Page 108 of We Already Dug the Grave

I bit my lip hard enough to hurt and ordered my feet not to run. The guard led the way, and the moment we were close enough, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Mama,” I gasped. I opened my arms to hug her, but the guard stepped between us.

“No touching.” Her expression was sympathetic, and she looked pointedly at the corners of the room. Security cameras.

Mama smiled, but it wasn’t the grin from my memories. This was the smile of someone who was bone-weary.

“Milly,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t what I expected. I sat down in the metal chair across the table from her. “Why does something have to be wrong?”

Mama scratched the back of her head and sighed. “We have five minutes. I wish more than anything we had time to dance around each other, but you’re here because you need something. That’s why I told them I’d see you. Are you in trouble?” Her words were blunt, but she wasn’t wrong. And the way she looked at me was familiar. She was still my mama.

“I, um, I did something. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“So you came to see me.” Mama nodded slowly, squinting. She nodded at the cameras mounted in the corner, then nodded toward the nearby guard. “There’s no privacy here. Everything is recorded. Just so you know.”

I swallowed, unsure of what to say. Of course there were cameras and guards. This was a prison. Was I really so stupid? Had I really thought I’d be able to spill my guts and let her comfort me, telling me it would be okay?

Would she even do that if she could?

“You can tell me what you need, but be careful,” Mama instructed.

“Something…big happened.” I thought carefully of how to say what I meant, but my thoughts were jumbled. There was so much to explain and here was Mama. Right here, in front of me.

“Milly. We only have a few minutes.”

“I know.” I nodded again. “Something happened and I can’t talk to anyone about it, but it’s something that maybe you could understand.”

“Something I’d understand?” She went still. “Do your aunts know? Do they know you’re here?”

I shook my head.

“Right,” she said. “Shit.”

Mama heaved a sigh, emotional roulette playing across her face. Sadness, anger, worry. “Milly. You’re young. You have an entire life to live, and, dammit, I want you to live it. Do whatever you have to to make that happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you can’t tell your aunts—if it’s that serious—then you can’t tell anyone. In fact, you should go away. Disappear. At least until you know you’re safe.”

“One minute left,” the guard said.

“I can’t.” My face fell.

“Yes, you can. Don’t end up somewhere like this, Milly. Please. You can’t end up here.”

I sniffed. “Mama. Am I…am I a bad person?”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate. “No, you could never be bad.” She reached across the table, her wrists still shackled together, her fingers stretching for my hand.

“No touching,” the guard said again.

“You’re a good girl, Millicent Marie. Always have been.”

I swiped at the tears that collected in the corners of my eyes. My entire life I’d never been a crier, but the last few days had wrung me out.

“Time’s up,” the guard said, not unkindly.