Chapter 8 #2
Brenna sighed and came to a stop. “Do you want a polite lie or the full truth? I’m saying this because I’m guessing you don’t have the best relationship with your mother.”
She grimaced. “Listen, if you’re going to lecture me on visiting her more—”
“No, no, that’s not my intention at all. Trust me, I understand that not everyone has a good relationship with their family. And, honestly, from what I have seen and heard, I understand why you might be keeping your distance from Martha. She is . . . well, she’s interesting.”
“You can be blunt. I’d bet she’s rude, entitled, self-absorbed and from what Mr. Peterson said, occasionally violent.”
“Yes, but this disease can affect people in different ways.”
“Oh, but she was all those things before,” she said without thought. Shit.
Sympathy filled Brenna’s face.
“But she just hid it better back then, I guess.”
“I just wanted to tell you that she talks about you a lot and much of it isn’t that nice. You shouldn’t take it to heart, though. I was going to say it was likely due to the disease.”
“I get it,” she whispered. “Believe me, I really do. I’m mainly just here to check on this place and on you, I guess. Sorry, no insult intended. You seem very good at your job.”
And she knew it had to be one of the hardest jobs there was.
“Thank you. And I totally understand. Come on, she’s in her room. She doesn’t really like to get out and socialize, which is a shame.”
“She was never much of a socializer,” Caren told her. “She was a workaholic.”
“Ahh, yes, she likes to give us some insights into our behavior and personalities. It’s been . . . enlightening.”
“Take it with a heavy grain of salt. I mean, I’m sure you do.”
“We do.” Brenna stopped outside a door, taking Caren in.
Caren gave her a nod and then followed her into a large room that felt kind of cramped due to the enormous piano in the corner.
God. Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected to see the piano. She could still remember the lessons. It was the one time her mother had taken an interest in her.
And God, she wished she hadn’t.
Her knuckles still had faint scars from when she’d made them bleed with her ruler. Her mother was a very intelligent woman with a high level of education.
And yet, she’d thought using corporal punishment would help Caren become a better pianist. Instead, she’d been terrorized to the point of being crippled with anxiety and fear every time a lesson had rolled around.
So seeing it right in that moment wasn’t great for her mood or her ability to speak.
Fear held her immobile as Brenna moved into the room to where her mother sat on a high-backed velvet chair. It was very throne-like, very much her mother.
Caren forced herself not to look at the piano.
You have this. You’re strong. Independent.
And this woman cannot hurt you anymore.
She has no power. You have all the power.
Not that she would use her power for evil. She wasn’t like this bitch.
No way.
“Morning, Martha,” Brenna said. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”
“It was terrible. This hotel service is awful and I would like to see your manager immediately.”
Her mother’s voice struck her hard, sending her spiralling back to when she was younger.
You are so stupid. An absolute disgrace to this family. How your father and I managed to create such a foolish, ridiculous child I will never know.
Why won’t you learn? I try to teach you over and over again and still you don’t learn. Perhaps some pain will help sharpen your mind.
Think of this as a lesson for the greater good. Does pain help or hinder a child?
Really, stop crying, I didn’t hurt you that badly.
Come to your school show? Really, Caren, don’t you think that is beneath us? We don’t have time for that. You don’t even have the lead role.
Yet another reason to be ashamed of you, really.
“Caren? Are you all right? Caren? Do you need to sit down?”
She blinked the world back into focus, staring at the woman standing in front of her. What was her name? Brenna. Brenna had a firm hold on Caren’s hand. Caren glanced down in surprise to see blood on her arms from long scratches.
“You hurt yourself,” Brenna said kindly.
Right. Sure.
“Oh, don’t waste time with her, Eliza,” her mother said, waving a hand.
“Waste of space, that child. Not sure why we even kept her. I said to my husband once she reached two and still couldn’t read or write that we should just give her away.
But he said that sort of thing wasn’t done and could ruin our careers if anyone found out.
But, really, me having a child who couldn’t read or write at two? Ridiculous.”
“My name is Brenna,” Brenna told her firmly.
Caren hated the sympathy in the other woman’s face. And yet she couldn’t look away, couldn’t look at the loathsome woman who might have given birth to her but certainly didn’t raise her.
“Eliza was her assistant. One of them, they never lasted long,” Caren told her. “Eliza was kind, though. She was probably the only one I met. Mother didn’t want other people knowing about me. Especially people from her professional life.”
“And, Eliza, I gave away that Christmas gift you bought her. Don’t worry, it went to a charity shop so it wasn’t wasted on someone like my daughter.”
God. How could someone be this awful and evil?
“You need to leave,” Brenna told her.
Caren jolted. “What? I just got here, though.”
“This isn’t healthy for you, Caren.” Brenna glanced down at Caren’s arms.
Shit.
She hadn’t done something like this in a long time. Sure, when she was stressed, she bought too much food. And this week, she’d slept every night in the kitchen with the cupboard doors open so she could stare at the food in the pantry.
But she was A-okay.
Uh-huh. Yep.
And maybe if you tell yourself that enough you might actually start to believe it.
Maybe.
“I’m here now. If I leave, I might not come back.”
“And that might be a good thing,” Brenna told her quietly. “We’re here with her. We’ll take care of her. But you might need to take care of you.”
Those words hit her so hard. She really did need to take care of herself. But she also didn’t think that she’d feel good about herself if she left now. It had taken a lot to get her here and to just leave felt like a failure.
What are you gaining from staying?
She didn’t know. She just knew she had to stay. At least for a while.
Shit. She should have waited until Lacey got back from her honeymoon and brought her with her. She hadn’t even told her best friend she was coming here.
Lacey wasn’t going to be happy if she found out. But Caren hadn’t wanted to subject her to her mother’s poison.
“Thanks for your concern. I appreciate it more than you can know,” she told the other woman. “But I can’t leave just yet.”
Brenna looked torn, but nodded. “I’m going to get someone to bring me some stuff to take care of those cuts.”
“Oh, don’t bother. I’ll run them under some water and they’ll be fine.”
“Don’t coddle the girl, Eliza. Honestly, what do I pay you for? You’re here to assist me, not fuss over that failure. An experiment gone wrong is what she is. That will haunt me to my grave.”
Fuck.
How many times had she heard that she was an experiment that had failed?
So many it had almost become meaningless drivel to her ears.
Almost.
“Dear God,” Brenna whispered. “This is terrible. Was this what she was like to you growing up? Why did no one ever report the abuse?”
Caren patted her arm in sympathy, giving her a wry smile. “The leading child psychologist in the state of New York, possibly the whole country, accused of child abuse? It wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t physically abusive.”
Not exactly true.
“She was always aware of leaving . . . evidence.”
“There’s all sorts of abuse,” Brenna said fiercely. “Not just physical.”
“I know. Believe me. But don’t worry, my grandmother got me away from them.”
“When? How old were you?” Brenna cleared her throat. “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me any of this. Kind of unprofessional of me to ask.”
“Actually, I think it shows that you care. I was just about to turn sixteen when I went to live with Grammy.”
Brenna closed her eyes and nodded. “Right. I was worried you’d say that. Go wash your arms and I’ll get some ointment for them.”
“Oh, Eliza, you really are wasting your time on her. And stop acting so appalled that I gave her gift away. Gifts will make her weak. She needs to learn to fend for herself and not rely on others.”
Well, she had learned that. But it was definitely the hard way.
“Did you ever get any Christmas presents?” Brenna whispered.
“Not even one. My father told me that Santa wasn’t real when I was three.”
“Oh my God.”
“Oh no, it was really a blessing. The thing is, if I’d thought Santa was real then she likely would have figured out some way to turn it all into an experiment.
Also, I likely would have wondered what I’d done wrong when I woke up Christmas morning to no gifts.
This way I didn’t have to. Of course, there were a number of irate parents at school when I informed their children that Santa didn’t exist. One of the few times that I can remember my mother going down to my school.
She eviscerated the poor teacher who ended up in tears. ”
“I can imagine,” Brenna said. “Don’t speak to her until I come back.”
She nodded and watched as the other woman left.
“Where is Eliza going? I need a cup of coffee. Honestly, that woman is useless. Always asking after Caren. As if anyone truly cares how Caren is doing. Useless fool.”
Wow. She’d never realized that Eliza had cared about her. Although she had snuck her sweets the few times she’d seen her. She’d lasted longer than her mother’s other assistants.
“That’s not Eliza,” she told her. “That’s Brenna. The woman taking care of you. And you should be nice to her.”
“Nice to her? Why would I want to do that? Niceness breeds complacency.”
Oh yeah. She’d heard that lots too.
After washing her arms in the small bathroom, she walked back into the room where her mother sat, carefully avoiding looking at the piano.
“How are you, Mother?” she asked, sitting in a chair across from her.
Her mother leaned forward and something cleared in her eyes. Caren’s breath caught in her chest. Was she actually seeing her? And not someone from the past?
“You look like my mother when she was young.”
She’d never met her maternal grandmother. Grammy had been her Dad’s mom. Grammy had hated her daughter-in-law with a passion.
“She was a hateful woman. Cruel and self-centred. You would never have survived with her, you know.”
“No? I’ve actually shocked myself with what I can survive,” she murmured.
“Are you talking about your childhood? Stupid girl. You weren’t abused like your grandmother said you were. Blackmailing us into not calling the authorities when she took you. Threatening to unravel everything we’d worked for. It was a relief to get rid of you.”
She bet it was.
“So you know who I am?”
“I am not an idiot, Caren. Why have you returned? Is it for the money? Well, you’re not getting any. It’s all going to various research facilities.”
“I don’t need or want your money.”
“No, that old bat left all her money to you, didn’t she? Money that your father desperately needed for his research. Selfish. Always selfish, you were. Taking up our time. Always wanting more and more.”
“What? Like attention? Care? Food? Strangely enough you do have to continuously feed a young child or they might grow up with various medical issues.”
Both physical and mental.
Her mother scoffed. “You should thank me for everything I did for you. Not complain. Now, get my stuff. We’re leaving this place. I don’t know why I’m even here. Did you have me put here against my will?”
“You’re in a dementia unit, Mother.”
Her mother froze.
“And you can’t leave.”
Maybe it was cruel. She probably should have asked Brenna if she should tell her the truth. But her mother had always valued the truth.
Except when it got in the way of her narrative, that was.
“I’m sorry.” She winced. Why did she say that? Showing this woman any care was pointless. And could make things worse.
“You’re sorry! You’re sorry?” Her mother turned with a screech and grabbed her arm. She was surprisingly strong as she twisted Caren’s forearm, making her cry out.
Shit! That hurt!
She yanked her arm free, and was cradling it when something struck her in the side of her head, making her stumble and fall.
“Get out of here! Go! Go! You stupid girl, go!”
Oh God. What was going on? She blinked. Had she lost consciousness?
“Go! Get out of here! You should never have been born! Oh how often did I wish that you would die!”
Why had she come here? This had been a terrible idea.
She’d made a classic mistake. Never ever take your eyes off the monster in the room. She’d learned that from a young age. Seemed that twenty years away had erased that knowledge.
“Oh no! Caren, you are all right?” Brenna appeared before her.
“I’m fine. Just see to my . . . to Martha, please?”
She stumbled to her feet and made her way out of the room. An alarm went off as the screeching continued. Shoot. She hoped Brenna was all right.
But as guilty as she felt at leaving her, she also knew that sticking around would only make her mother worse.
Reaching up to where her head throbbed, she felt something wet touch her fingers. Bloody bollocks. She was bleeding.
That . . . that bitch.
Caren made her way out of the unit, ignoring the woman at the front desk who tried to get her attention.
The security guard gave her a look of alarm. “Ma’am? Are you all right? Can I call someone for you?”
“There’s no one to call, but thank you.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Actually, I don’t think I can manage my phone. Could you call me an Uber?”
“Sure, sure. You might need something to stop the bleeding, though. Blood can be hell to get out of upholstery. Um, you don’t want to know how I know that.”
She gave him a tight smile and leaned against a wall while opening her hand bag to pull out tissues.
“It’s on its way. Sure you don’t need an ambulance or something? I can call it for you.”
She was seeing double and feeling nauseous so maybe she should take him up on his offer.
But, no, she didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. She just wanted to get back to her hotel and pretend that none of this had happened.
Sometime later she stumbled into her hotel room and turned to lock it before moving to the bed and collapsing on top of it.
The world was spinning as she turned onto her back so she didn’t get any blood on the bed cover. Although that might be too late.
Breathing slowly, she willed the spinning to stop.
God.
Nausea bubbled in her stomach and she sat up. Suddenly, the world went dark.