Oh, Hell No (Mississippi Smoke #3)

Prologue

Winslet

December 12, 2013

I do not hate my mother. I do not hate my mother.

Glancing down at my younger brother’s black eye and bloody nose as I pulled him close to me while I hid us in the bathroom closet, I decided there was no use in lying to myself.

I hated my mother.

She was a terrible human. I didn’t care that she was an alcoholic and her daddy had sexually abused her when she was a child. That was no excuse for her to throw Perry against a wall and curse at him because he’d used the last of the milk in his cereal.

Perry had been born two months early. He’d always been small for his age. Mom had never forgiven him for it either.

My eyes stung with unshed tears as I clenched my teeth tightly and tried to think of mean things to keep me from crying like a baby. Perry needed me to be strong. I was all he had. I was all he’d ever had. Thankfully, I wasn’t weak.

I didn’t know for sure who our fathers were, but I did know they were not the same. There were very little similarities between us. We shared our mother’s brown eyes. That was it.

“She’s been quiet awhile.” Perry’s soft words weren’t even loud enough to be considered a whisper.

I nodded. She had stopped ranting and throwing things, but that didn’t mean she was passed out. This wasn’t our first time hiding from her, and I knew from experience that coming out too early could mean she was still ready to take a swing at Perry or me if I stood in her way. And I always stood in her way.

I had been late getting home from school today because of some extra credit I had signed up for in the library. I should have known better. Allowing Perry to come inside the apartment without me was a bad idea. We never knew what mood she would be in or how drunk she might be.

It was too dark for me to see the damage on Perry’s face and assess how bad it was. I’d lowered the washcloth I had pressed to his nose to stop the bleeding he had several minutes ago. Knowing it had worked was a relief. But his eye was going to draw attention at school. Miss Luneze, the counselor, would see it, and she’d start asking questions again. I knew she meant well, but if she told anyone about Mom, they’d take Perry away from me. Then, who would take care of him?

He grunted, and I realized my arms had tightened around him when I thought about some stranger walking in and taking him away. I knew they would take me, too, but it was very unlikely we would be placed in the same home. It was a chance I wasn’t willing to take.

Perry needed me. Kids picked on him at school. To get Bartley Headson to stop bullying Perry—putting him in the trash can, knocking his books out of his hands, and giving him awful wedgies—I had agreed to sit by Bartley at lunch and let him call me his girlfriend.

I hated Bartley Headson almost as much as I did my mom. But I did it for Perry. Bartley was a spoiled rich kid who was good at all sports. Everyone thought he was so cool. He was a bully. There was nothing cool about him.

“Winzy,” Perry’s hushed tone said, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah?” I replied.

“I’m sorry I used the rest of the milk.”

I swallowed against what felt like a rock clogging my throat. He was nine years old. He shouldn’t have to be sorry for eating cereal after school. It wasn’t fair.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry that she is our mother.”

He sniffled, and I felt his head nod against my shoulder. “Me too.”

The floor creaked, and I stiffened, then shoved Perry behind me the best I could in the limited space. When the door opened and the light flooded the darkness, I glared up at my mother, ready to fight before I let her near Perry again. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. I doubted she had brushed it in a week. The golden color of her hair was faded with the brittle, unhealthy look it had, but I had seen photos and knew it had once been as thick and shiny as Perry’s.

“Get out, you!” she screeched, then reached in to grab my arm.

I kicked at her, causing her to stumble backward.

“GO AWAY!” I shouted.

Perry’s body was trembling so hard that I could feel it. That gave me the courage I needed to stand up to her and not cower.

“Get out, you little bitch! He deserves this whooping! All he does is mooch!” She hissed the last word.

I pushed Perry back further before climbing out and quickly slamming the door behind me to keep him locked away and safe.

“He’s hungry after school.” I tried to talk to her like a rational human. “He needed a snack. I will go get you some milk. Just leave him alone.”

Mom didn’t drink milk. She just drank tequila. But I didn’t point that out. When she was like this, that would only make her angrier.

She pointed at the door behind me. “He’s a pussy, just like his father,” she spat. “Crying and running to hide behind a girl.”

The pure hatred in her gaze made my stomach turn. How had this woman given birth to us? We weren’t like her at all. She was a hateful, awful person.

“He’s nine.” I pointed out the obvious.

I didn’t add that he was no bigger than a seven-year-old. His size always made her livid. Another thing she hated about him.

Her hand swung out, and I had just enough time to brace myself before her palm hit the side of my face causing me to stumble backward. The sharp bite of pain made my eyes water. That would leave a mark. A copper taste filled my mouth, and I did a quick inspection to find one of my molars felt broken. I spat, and a piece of my tooth came out, along with blood. The throbbing ache was beginning to register in my head, and I realized that she might have done more damage to my mouth than she normally did.

Crappity, this hurt.

“Get him out of there!” she demanded. “And both of you go buy more milk!”

Her eyes barely glanced at the broken tooth and blood on the floor. “Clean that up too,” she added, then turned to leave the bathroom.

Unlike with Perry, once she hurt me, she would calm down. When she hurt Perry, she remained insane, but the moment it was clear that I had been hurt, she stopped. I didn’t understand it, but I knew it was the only way to stop her sometimes.

I waited until she was out of sight before touching my jaw. I barely covered my pained whimper from the brief contact, and I snatched my hand away fast. This was going to make it hard to eat. How I would hide this and Perry’s black eye at school, I had no idea.

The door behind me opened, and I moved out of the way while my brother climbed out. His round brown eyes studied me with an anguished glint in them that I knew too well.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “No. Just stings a bit. I’m fine,” I lied.

His expression didn’t change, and I knew he wasn’t fooled.

Closing the short distance between us, he wrapped his arms around me. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

Yep, I hated my mom. More than I would ever hate anyone else on this earth.