Chapter 37 #4
I nodded and focused on our hands. “Yeah. They’d already had Terrance together, but adopting me made them look good in their community.
That was all they cared about. Public perception of them.
How ‘amazing’ they were to everyone else.
Mom hosted a book club for stay at home moms in the neighborhood and would throw parties at our house for them.
She’d bring snacks and dinner to Terrance’s soccer games and practices for all the other boys and their families.
She gave talks at the community center about motherhood and how to balance that with sense of self. ”
I snorted a malicious laugh. “But of course, none of that was real. She hated reading. She paid Terrance’s tutor extra to read the books for her and give her the highlights.
She didn’t make any of the food she claimed to and instead hired chefs to do something as simple as sandwiches.
She didn’t know the first thing about motherhood, because all she knew was self.
If she wasn’t playing tennis at the country club, shopping for the newest expensive purse, or playing put-together role model at charity events, she was home and practically bathing in wine while watching reality TV.
I remember her complaining once about how she’d look better on TV as the perfect example of a housewife with her two kids and rich husband. ”
At the mention of her husband, goosebumps broke out along my skin.
Tears born from lies and twisted games nearly strangled me.
I wasn’t sure if I could keep talking, but Xander’s gentle squeeze of our combined hands along with the soft kiss he dropped to my knuckles gave me the strength to keep going.
“Can you guess who the president of Mountview Psychiatric Hospital was?”
Xander’s dark brows rose. “Your dad?”
“Don’t call him that,” I snapped. An angry, violent disgust warped my insides. I closed my eyes and shook my head feebly against the chair cushion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” Xander whispered, reaching out to smooth a thumb between my furrowed brows. “You’re okay.”
I swallowed the bile climbing my throat and focused on Xander’s thumb, which traced a soothing pattern along my forehead while his other hand remained woven with mine beneath his chin.
“Mr. Cartwright was a doctor and the president of Mountview,” I confirmed. “So it only made sense to send me there when everything fell apart.”
Xander had been doing well to listen to me talk without giving away too much of what he was thinking or feeling. But now, he frowned slightly as though beginning to see the bigger painting through my hurried brushstrokes.
“You weren’t admitted to Mountview for seeing ghosts, were you?”
I let out a sardonic laugh, which was good. Rage felt better than terror. Hatred felt better than anguish. I clung to those feelings in order to plow on.
“Seeing and speaking to ghosts was just an excuse for them to get me there. They needed me certified as a lunatic, someone who couldn’t be believed or trusted.
I needed to be ‘crazy,’ and he had plenty of people on his payroll to ensure that happened.
Having their daughter sent to a place for mentally ill patients may look bad, but they’d rather receive the pity from people for taking in a broken child than the alternative. ”
Xander’s eyes never wavered from mine, even as his expression grew grimmer. “What did they not want people to believe you about?”
I could see his own conclusions forming behind his dark eyes, each probably more terrible than the last. He was most likely correct in his assumption, yet experiencing the real thing was so much worse than any guess he could’ve made.
I’d already said more than I ever had before. Exhaustion smothered the rage and disgust, so I let out a tired breath, unable to speak on this anymore.
“I don’t want to see him,” I said wearily. “I don’t want to be anywhere near him, but I want to be there for Terrance. I don’t want to miss out on even more of life because of him.”
I closed my eyes and focused on the summer breeze atop the tall building. I listened to the sounds of the city below us and counted each of my own exhales to keep my mind steady.
“What if I went with you?”
Slowly, I opened my eyes to meet his. He’d sealed off whatever he was feeling so that all I found was a steadfast and determined set to his jaw and brow.
“Would you feel safer attending if I went with you?” he went on. “If you want to go that badly but can’t stand being there alone, let me stand with you. I’m your Mr. Monster, remember? And no one, not a single fucking soul, will hurt you as long as I’m there.”
Wind catching a bird’s wings after a fall from a great height.
The first rays of sunlight peaking through a haze of dark clouds after a storm.
The beginning pitter-patter of rainfall at the end of a drought.
I imagined this feeling his words gave me now was the same one I’d find in each of those situations.
Hope.
I’d long given up on the feeling. I’d been convinced that I was simply meant to live a solitary existence with no real happiness of my own.
But this demon—this amazing, frustrating, persistently loving demon—made me feel everything I thought impossible.
He made me believe that I could face the impossible, because I wasn’t alone. He was there for me.
My beloved Mr. Monster.