8. Ellie
CHAPTER 8
Ellie
P ushing back the emotional hurt alongside the physical is harder than I imagined. Damon spent the ride home explaining why his dad behaved how he did around his mom, and while I appreciate the effort to shield me from more trauma, I can handle myself.
Ever since my dad’s arrest, everyone has treated me like glass, assuming I’m breakable and I’m not. I’m fragile, sure, because the man who spent years tormenting me broke down my trust and set me up for victimhood repeatedly. But I’m strong. I know I am. I survived my mom dying, the foster system and terrible caregivers, the bullying at school…my own self-doubt and demons. But I do it every day. I fight, and I never give up.
I’ve never wanted to.
Until today.
Lars’ rejection was brutal. It was like a scalpel strategically slicing through every major artery and letting me slowly bleed dry. I hate it.
“Ellie, darling, how was your weekend?” Clara asks as I enter the house, my bag over my shoulder. Her greeting is welcoming and genuine, which is the only reason I plaster a fake smile on my face.
“Good, we watched movies, had pizza, and stayed up too late.” I hope she accepts my false narrative.
“I’m so glad. I was thinking you might want to help me do a little meal prep for the week. How about baked bacon and cheese ziti, breakfast burritos, banana loaf, and trying a new sourdough bread recipe? I can never manage the darn sourdough.”
She’s so hopeful. I can see how much she loves having me here and the girl bonding that Carly refuses to do with her.
“I’d love to. Could I hop in the shower real quick first?” I don’t really want to. I’d like to go to bed and cry for the next five days, but I know that won’t do me any good, so I opt for the healthier option.
“Great! I’ll make you some lunch. Turkey clubhouse sandwich sound good? I just bought fresh oranges, too. I’ll cut some up.” She walks away, chattering about what she’ll do before I can give an answer.
My mom was the same way, always inviting me to do things with her, talking out loud to make her lists. Never allowing me to feel anything less than loved. Spending so much time with Clara makes me miss her and appreciate our time together even more.
Exhaling slowly, I start my way up the stairs, heading for my room to grab a change of clothes and a fresh towel. I was told I could do anything I want to the room, make it my own, but I don’t want to touch it. What’s the point? I won’t be here past graduation. I’ve already been accepted to Briarwood College with an excellent scholarship that includes housing on campus. I’ll make that my home.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Carly sneers from her bedroom door. I ignore her and enter the bathroom as she carries on. “Done spreading your legs for the basketball star.”
She’s had her sights set on any player who will give her the time of day. I think Damon is one of the few who haven’t, and she’s irritated knowing we’re friends.
“Nice to see you, Carly.” Keeping things civil is the only way I know how to survive against such hate, and it pisses her off for some reason.
Growling, she stomps a foot and slams her door behind her as she leaves me in peace.
I spend a few minutes under the hot spray, relaxing my overworked muscles and fighting to forget why they’re so sore before I start shampooing my hair. Finding the marks Lars left all over my body wells up tears, but I force them back. I refuse to cry right now, choosing instead to wait until I can, at night when everyone is fast asleep and won’t question me about it.
I knew a relationship between us was wrong from the start. Lars would never want a girl like me. A police captain and the daughter of a serial killer don’t make a great love story.
Allowing myself a few minutes to wallow before shutting off the water, I step out and dry myself before getting dressed and braiding my hair. I don’t feel like doing much more than that. After cleaning up the bathroom and putting things away, I return to Clara in the kitchen, pulling everything out that we’re going to need.
“Eat while I finish making a plan.”
Sitting at the table where she set out a sandwich and a cut-up orange on a plate with a glass of raspberry sweet tea, I take the chance to enjoy being taken care of. I fight back my emotions because I’m already on overload and fail miserably.
The next thing I know, Clara pulls me into a tight hug as she speaks soothingly. “Oh darling, you just can’t catch a break, can you.” She pulls back to look at my tear-stained face. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Which part, I want to ask caustically.
“My mom was like you.” She gives me a blinding smile as she takes my statement as a compliment. “I’ve just missed her and didn’t realize how much until I came here.”
“Oh, Ellie, I am so sorry you’ve had so much heartbreak in such a short lifespan. It’s just not fair to you.” She squeezes my hands, showing me the support I hadn’t realized I’d needed for so long.
“She was the only one who ever truly loved me, and I sometimes wish it had been my father who died in that accident and not her.” The puzzled look on Clara’s face makes me regret my words. “That’s terrible to say, isn’t it?”
It takes her a minute to respond, and I fight not to run away. “It’s not terrible, but Ellie, who said your mom was in an accident?”
“My dad.”
“Oh, honey…Ellie. Your father was the one who killed her. That’s why you were in the system when you were younger. He was on trial for her murder.” All the air gets siphoned from my lungs, and I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.
“What?” I hiss with a short breath.
That can’t be right. I remember they had a tough time finding him. The social worker told me so every time I asked. I was told he had to go through parenting classes and background checks and a million loops just to visit me. When he finally gained custody, we immediately moved to Florida from Nevada. Away from everything I’d known and loved. Away from Mom. It hurt at the time, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
“Yes. He was arrested days after it happened. The trial occurred quickly because he was a flight risk, and the DA didn’t have enough to keep him remanded. It was supposedly a stroke of luck on his part that he wasn’t convicted.”
“But…” My brows furrow. “No, she was in a car accident. A drunk driver hit her on the highway at the end of a girls' weekend. Everyone told me so.” Standing abruptly, my chair topples over and slams against the tiled floor. “You’re wrong; you’re lying!” I scream at Clara, running up to my room to grab my bag with everything I need in it before bolting out of the house and heading to the beach.
She’s wrong.
My father didn’t kill my mother.
It’s a lie.
Except…
There are things that don’t make sense anymore. Things I didn’t understand at the time. My father on the news, and the channel being shut off quickly. Comments I would overhear the adults around me making about being behind bars. The excuses about why I couldn’t see him. There was no time left that week; he needed approval first… Things I thought were related to me but now make more sense in relation to him being in prison.
The real question now is, why wasn’t he convicted back then?