Chapter Nine
“Mom,” I began hesitantly as she sipped on a glass red wine. She was leaning over the kitchen island, her hair in disarray while she stared off into space. Her eyes were bloodshot, and I couldn’t remember a time when she looked this bad.
Instead of acknowledging me, she took another slow sip.
I knew her relationship with my father was complicated. They were bonded in some way I’d probably never be able to understand. It didn’t matter that he treated her poorly. Some twisted part of her still cared for him.
“Mom … We need to talk,” I tried again.
“Can it not wait?” She glanced at me over her shoulder, revealing her dull, icy eyes.
Frustration slithered down my spine. “No. It’s important.”
She’d been putting it off for the last two weeks, and I gave her time to mourn. There wasn’t an expiration date on mourning a loved one, but I still forced myself to give her time, even though this shit has been nibbling at the back of my mind ever since it happened.
She sighed and pushed away from the counter to turn and face me. “What is it?” Her voice was colder than I was used to, but I wouldn’t let that deter me.
Swallowing, I blew out a nervous breath. “Have you checked the security footage?”
“Of course, I did.” She scoffed, like the question alone was stupid. She hadn’t been her usual self lately though, so how was I supposed to know?
I nodded thoughtfully. “The night of the party…” I trailed off, folding my hands together as a current of dread coiled around my stomach. “I was nearly assaulted by three boys from school.”
She was silent for a long moment, probably trying to process what I was telling her. We didn’t talk about things like that. Frankly, I’d always been afraid to confide in her and Dad about my feelings.
“And you’re just now telling me this?” she countered, a hint of accusation in her tone. “Conveniently after your father’s death.”
I reared back, my lips parting in shock. “I-it’s not like that,” I stammered. “I was afraid to say anything.”
She snorted and took another sip of her beverage before returning it to the island.
Confusion tore through my skull at her callousness. I knew she was grieving and was probably drunk on top of it, but to accuse me of making it up for attention was monstrous. I would never do something like that. She had to know deep down I wouldn’t.
“I saw what you were wearing before you went out,” she continued. “If you were almost assaulted as you claim, that must have been why.”
My heart dropped into the depths of my stomach, tears springing to my eyes. I almost didn’t even want to tell her the rest, but knew I had to. It was my best bet of getting her to talk.
“I wasn’t dressed any more scandalously than the other girls who attended,” I muttered.
She shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you then. You should have filed a report as soon as it had happened.”
My lower lip trembled, and I absentmindedly rubbed at the cuts on my arm, concealed by a long-sleeve shirt.
Why did I think she’d care? I knew she was a hard woman to please.
I knew she wanted me to be different—more like her.
But I never, in a million years, would have expected her to blame me for something I had no control over.
“A-after the party, I stripped out of my clothes and went to sleep. But something woke me up in the middle of the night,” I added carefully.
This seemed to get her attention. She straightened her posture and furrowed her brows, eyeing me with renewed interest.
“I-I don’t know what it was,” I continued.
“I was in some kind of state of sleep paralysis, but I wasn’t alone.
Someone started touching me.” I shuddered at the reminder, warring emotions flickering through me when I remembered the sensations.
“Licking me … down there. And when I woke up, I heard you screaming. I ran to see what was wrong and that’s when I saw Dad.
When I went back to my room, I saw the message on my wall. ”
Mom was looking at me like she didn’t know who I was. Her skin was paler than before and she could barely hold herself upright.
“Savannah,” she muttered so low it was almost a whisper, a gentle caress through the air.
I nodded. “I think whatever happened to Dad—what happened to me—I think it’s all tied to her.”
Mom’s knees finally buckled, and I rushed through the room, barely catching her in time.
My fingers dug into her pits as I worked to tug her back up.
She was full-on shaking now. My hand rubbed gentle circles against her back as I steered her into the living room and helped her get situated on the couch.
When she was secured, I sat down beside her.
“T-there was an incident,” she stated, her eyes so distant, I wasn’t even sure if her mind was here anymore.
“It was meant to be one big joke.” She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her small body.
“Savannah was dating the Quarterback at the time, and he hated her. I think she hated him too. He was sleeping with her best friend, and she was hooking up with her stepbrother.” She scrunched up her nose at that, her gaze slowly moving to meet mine again.
“What happened?” I asked softly.
Mom hesitated, unsure if she wanted to tell me.
But I wasn’t letting this go. Finally, she released a shaky breath and pinched her eyes closed.
“We tricked Savannah into coming to a fake afterparty at the football field. She was pretty and a lot of our boyfriends liked her, which made us a little envious, I’ll admit. ”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t like where this was going. Still, I bit my tongue, desperate to hear what my parents had done that was so awful, it warranted retaliation in the form of murder.
I reached over and gripped her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze to let her know she could tell me.
“All of the football players took turns fucking her while Tripp was beaten and held back.”
“Tripp?” I asked.
She nodded. “Her stepbrother. For some reason, he actually liked her.”
The entire football team raped her? Horror swept through me at that knowledge. Dad was on the football team. I didn’t even need to ask if he was involved. The proof was in the gruesome way he was killed.
“Afterwards … Me and the other cheerleaders took turns stabbing and beating her until we thought she was dead.”
My hand loosened around my mother’s, disgust twisting my gut. My own parents did this. Of course, she wouldn’t care that I’d been assaulted. She had no problem helping the football players assault a poor, defenseless girl.
I forced myself up on shaky legs, trembling as I struggled to come to terms with everything she’d just confessed. Deep down, I knew my parents were responsible for something. But I hadn’t expected that.
I shook my head, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “How could you do something like that?”
She blinked at me in surprise. “Ember, we were young, dumb, and in love.”
“What?” I hissed, genuinely concerned with the way her mind worked. “What you did was far more than being young, dumb, and in love. You helped a woman get raped, beaten, and nearly killed. That’s not okay.”
She blew out a breath and leaned back to settle into the cushions. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’ve never even had a boyfriend.”
Rage licked down my spine, warring with the hundreds of other emotions tumbling through me. “And even if I was, I’d never be such a heartless bitch,” I snapped. “No wonder Daddy was murdered. Sounds to me like he deserved it, and it sounds to me like you’re next.”
Mom jumped to her feet faster than I could even give her credit for. Her hand connected with the side of my face so hard, the sound reverberated throughout the room and my head jerked sideways. I looked at her in shock, though I shouldn’t have been surprised—not after what she just told me.
“How dare you,” she snapped, her body trembling with rage. “I’ve done nothing but try my damn hardest for this family—”
I snorted. “No. You’ve done nothing but let me watch you get abused and cheated on while being a docile little trophy wife with no fucking purpose. You peaked in high school, Mom. You’re nothing now, and from the sounds of it, you were nothing then either.”
I spun on my heels and stormed to my room before she had the opportunity to hit me again. My mind spun with everything I’d just learned and my heart ached for the woman she helped destroy.
Suddenly, things made a hell of a lot more sense. My father despised her, and it was probably because she was a constant reminder of what happened back then. He was a piece of shit, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a conscience somewhere under there, even if it was buried so far it reached Hell.
I used to want to make my parents proud. It upset me when they were disappointed with me, or when I couldn’t meet their expectations.
Now, I couldn’t give a shit less.