32. Millie
CHAPTER 32
Millie
“What the fuck is this shit, Elena?!”
“I’m so sorry.” Mom scurries around the table to take his plate from him. “I can make you something else.”
“You think I work all day to come home to a dinner that’s burnt to shit?” He snatches the plate from her, throwing it across the room with a smash.
Maddie’s lip quivers and I grab her hand under the table, hoping she’ll be able to hold back her tears for long enough not to provoke him.
“Useless! You’re fucking useless!” He swipes a hand across the table, sending condiments and a glass vase flying off the edge. The flowers he bought as an apology yesterday fall in a watery clump on the floor. “Can’t cook, can’t keep this place clean. Can’t keep me happy when I come home to fuck what’s mine.”
Mom gives me a pleading look across the room. I bundle up Maddie against my hip, creeping backwards as I leave the room and take her to bed, hoping to shield her from the worst of this fight, but knowing she’ll hear it all.
I hold her against me, letting her use my shirt to mop up her silent tears.
“You’re good for nothing, Elena.” There’s another clatter, followed by the shattering of glass and a pained cry that I can tell mom tried to hold back. “And those fucking kids, they ruined us. Ruined you as my wife, ruined the life we had together.”
“Richard, please. Don’t bring the girls into this. It’s not their fault. This is all my fault.”
I bite my lip, trying to stay strong for Maddie. I don’t want her to see how much his words are hurting me too.
“I’m going out.” The front door clicks open. “And that pussy better be ready for me when I come back.”
Momentary silence follows the slam of the door, before Mom gasps for air and folds into gut wrenching sobs.
“It’s okay, Madds. It’s gonna be okay.” I kiss her forehead, tucking her in under the comforter and placing her teddy bear under her chin. “Wait here, I’ll be back in just a minute.”
Mom sweeps at the broken glass as her body shakes. I take in the open space, the smashed television on the floor, the contents of the dinner pot all over the kitchen tiles, cracks snaking through each of the family pictures on the wall.
It’ll all be back to normal tomorrow.
He’ll replace the TV, take down the frames, buy some gifts and make his empty promises. He’ll convince us that it’s all in our head, that it was never that bad – and he’ll do it so well that we’ll start to believe him.
And then we will repeat the cycle all over, and over, and over again .
“I’m so sorry, Millie.” Mom falls into my chest, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. “I promise we’re going to leave, we’re going to get out of here. We just need some more cash, then we will leave.”
I run my hand over her forehead, feeling blood seeping into my nail beds as I try to hold together the woman I didn’t break.