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“Are we close?” I ask.
“Yeah, just a few more houses that way.” She points toward her parents’ home in the near distance. As we approach the house, I see that all the shades are shut, and the house looks dark inside. I hear movement, then shattering glass.
The noise makes me jump, and I flick my eyes to Lyr. “What was that?”
She shrugs and there’s no emotion on her face. She looks numb.
“If I had to guess, Cash is going on a tangent and beating Mother.” She says it so casually it’s disturbing.
“Is this normal?”
I don’t know if I can stand here while Cash treats his wife like a punching bag.
“Yeah, it’s been this way for as long as I can remember. When I was around, she got it less, but since I’ve been gone, I’m sure it’s a daily occurrence for her.”
I should drop it, but I don’t. I can’t.
“Do you not care?”
She offers an awkward smile.
“Not really.” She shrugs again. “God knows she didn’t. Why should I?”
She’s not wrong. I can understand her thought process. I move toward the door, and Lyr follows.
“It’s time to go in now. Are you gonna be okay, or do you need to stay out here?”
It’s not a threat. I genuinely don’t want her to go inside if this is going to trigger her.
“I’ll be fine,” she replies in a clipped tone.
Assessing her, I take in her beauty along with the wickedness of what we’re about to do. Both look good on her.
We circle to the front door and brace ourselves before ascending across the threshold to Lyr’s childhood home. The moment we step inside, a tall glass of water crashes through my chest before shattering against the front door. What a welcome. My gut drops when I realize that this was every day for Lyr in the past and that I hadn’t been there to shield her—to save her—not in the way I can now.
CHAPTER 35
LYRICS
Same shit, different day. I’d seen this my entire life; the abuse wasn’t new, but it was always fresh. And now that I think about it, the hatred I feel for Jake only increases. While he was living peacefully with his mom, I was being raped and beaten by his pathetic excuse of a father.
Cash chases my mother through the house. I watch as the two of them bob and weave around corners and walls, my mom’s wails echoing throughout. She’s yanked back and thrown into the corner of the kitchen counter, her back taking the brunt of it. She shouts in pain and hisses as she tries to breathe through it, grasping at the ache.
Cash uses that opportunity to snatch her by the hair and drag her into the living room. He bends her over the edge of the couch, shoving her face into a pillow as he pushes her skirt up, yanks her underwear down, and pulls himself out. He forces himself inside her, and she shrieks.
Atticus and I stand there, unblinking and unmoving—the two of us barely breathing. We just watch as Cash rapes my mother, unable to look away. Frozen. I’m disgusted with myself when it occurs to me that I have no feelings about this. No tears. No urge to help her. She watched him hurt me from almost every angle of this house and said nothing, and now I’m doing the same. I’m no better than her, and somehow, I don’t care.
It’s over in two minutes. Cash always was quick to finish. He puts himself away, pats my mom on the head like an obedient dog, and walks to the kitchen to retrieve a beer before plopping himself into his cat-clawed recliner and turning on the TV. My mother lies bent over the couch for several minutes before she, too, eventually stands, puts herself back together, and retreats to the bedroom while fixing her hair. I hear her sniffle before she closes the door.
Attie rests his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” He gives me a gentle squeeze.
“I’m surprisingly fine. Never better, actually.” I pat his hand before he pulls away.
I feel nothing right now. I have nothing to say about what I just witnessed. There’s no salvaging anything between my mother and me, and because of that, I no longer care for her or about her. Her battles are all her own.
“Good girl. Now is not the time to have a conscience anyway.”
