Chapter 1
Lily
" C ome on, Mom," I grunted, transferring her from the bed to the wheelchair. She'd soiled herself again. She's only fifty, but she's got a few broken teeth, and her skin droops from the weight she carries around in her mind. When I removed myself from beneath her arm, she kept the arm elevated as if I'm still there.
Wheeling her into the bathroom, I held back tears. Five years ago, I received a call from the hospital detailing her struggle with catatonia. My father gave them my number. She was no longer responsive to his beatings, his verbal assaults, and his methods of manipulation. He was no longer interested in dealing with her. Especially since he found a younger, more gullible model, willing to see the good in him. Heaven help her.
My body was heavy as I got done with cleaning her, cleaning her chair, changing her sheets, getting her dressed, and starting the battle of trying to get her to eat again. That's the moment that broke me, when she refused to chew. My shoulders shook, and my chest heaved as I ran to the bathroom and hovered over the bathroom sink, trying to steady my breathing.
There are some months when she's better than others, when lorazepam helps her respond again, but the house is still the same. Since coming back home, I haven't had time to make any changes. It's surprising how fast five years fly by. A bloodstain, a hole in the wall, a picture of him; even her own mirror reflection triggers her into another episode.
Sure, for all intents and purposes, she's alive. But he's taken her life. And she let him. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I splashed water on my face until they no longer burned my cheeks. She could have left him, just like I left Marco. She could have made better choices, to protect us both. Instead, she gave her life to him, a piece of shit, a savage with no humanity.
My blood boiled as I thought about how happy he's been. Oh, I've heard it. That's one thing about returning to your hometown, everyone's always keeping you up to date about what you've missed. As if I asked. I don't care if he's doing better in his new relationship. I'm pretty sure everyone sees what he wants them to see. They're so easily fooled.
Taking a deep breath and running my hand through my short, blond hair, I pushed past the hot resentment burning a hole through me and reminded myself to focus on my priority, my mother. I tried not to think about her also taking my life and focus on helping her reclaim hers. My eyes were red as I looked at my worn reflection in the stained wall mirror. I'll be okay, I soothed myself.
On my way out of the bathroom, my phone pinged. It's a specific ping, reserved for the ladies of the Women's Center group chat. Pulling it out of my pocket, I unlocked it to find that I'd been invited to Ann Marie's wedding.
Groaning, I put it back in my pocket. She's expecting an excited response, I'm sure, but I needed a moment to gather myself so that I could fake it. It's not that I'm not happy that she's happy. I want her to be happy. These women have become my family in the last eleven years. They've been there between me running back and forth to Marco until I got the courage to leave him for good. They've listened to my stories, and I've heard theirs. We've bonded over going through similar experiences. And I know Anne Marie's been through some shit with men.
This isn't her first marriage. The last one ended when her husband almost killed her. Now, I'm supposed to be happy she 'found love' again when love doesn't exist? Okay, I might be overreacting.
Some people claim to have found love. I guess they're lucky. She could be one of the lucky ones this time around. I'll show up and pretend that men aren't only good for one thing, good dick, if they have it. Just because he fucks you well, it doesn't mean you have to marry the bastard. Take the sex and leave the rest behind, that's what I say.
"Some of us just aren't made for love, are we, Mom?" I said as I tried to spoon-feed her again, hoping this time she'd attempt to chew and swallow.