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A knock sounded on my door and made me jump.
I quickly pulled the shirt over my head and turned around to see Mrs. Barsetti.
She was still in her jeans and blouse, and the friendly expression she usually wore was absent. Her fair skin looked even paler than it did before. She kept one hand on the open door as she stared at me, speechless.
I wasn’t sure what had just happened. Maybe she was appalled by the fact that I was wearing Carter’s t-shirt. It would be impossible to know for sure that it belonged to him, so I wasn’t sure why she would assume. “Everything alright, Mrs. Barsetti?”
When I asked the question, she seemed to snap out of her mood. “Yes…I brought you some water.” She held up the plastic bottle in her hand and came toward me. Instead of getting close to me like she had earlier, she kept distance in between us as she placed the bottle in my hand. “Sleep well.”
“I will. Thank you…”
She forced a smile before she walked out.
When I was alone, I looked at my phone again, hoping Carter would call.
He never did.
Cane was gone when I woke up in the morning, so it was just Mrs. Barsetti and me. I went downstairs and joined her for breakfast, but I was met with the same strange attitude she gave me last night, like I’d done did something wrong.
The silence was deafening, the tension palpable.
No amount of small talk could fix it.
She drank her coffee and glanced at me from time to time. She picked up the newspaper and scanned it, but her eyes were shifting back and forth so quickly it didn’t seem like she was even reading it. Her breathing was abnormal, and I could feel the hostility in the room. Carter spoke so highly of his mother, so I was surprised by the inhospitable environment she was creating with her silence. His father had been nothing but warm to me. “Mrs. Barsetti…did I do something?”
She lifted her gaze from her newspaper, the guilt in her eyes. “No, of course not.” She folded the paper and set it on the table beside her.
“When you came into my room last night, it seemed like I’d done something wrong. The t-shirt I was wearing was Carter’s, but I put it into my bag by mistake. I was doing laundry, and it must have—”
“Honey, no.” She held up her hand, silencing me with the gesture. Guilt burned in her eyes, as if she knew exactly how she was behaving. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I apologize for acting so strange. I just…I’m not sure how to handle this.”
“Handle what?” I whispered.
“I know it isn’t my place and I should mind my own business, but when I see this kind of thing, I can’t ignore it.”
Now I had no idea what she was talking about.
She lifted her gaze to look into mine. “Your back…all the scars.”
The second she spoke the words, everything made sense. She wasn’t appalled that I was wearing her son’s clothes. She was disgusted by the scars on my back, the violence that had been inflicted upon me in my past life. They weren’t the kinds of marks that happened naturally. Judging by the lines and colors, they were obviously inflicted by a whip. Anyone could see that. “Oh…”
She ran her fingers through her hair as she considered what to say. “Please tell me that my son—”
“No.” I wouldn’t even let her finish the sentence. Carter liked to hurt me, but not like that. The pain he caused was tame, even felt good at times. He was never brutal in his violence. “Carter would never do something like that.”
She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling a deep breath to clear the pain in her chest. “Oh, thank god.” She ran her fingers through her hair again, opening her eyes once more. “Because if my son did that, I would do something worse to him.”
I believed her. She seemed like a fighter, like his father. “Carter has never been cruel to me.” I wanted to explain my story so she would understand, but I knew Carter didn’t want her to know. I kept my mouth shut.
“May I ask what happened?” She watched me with soft eyes, not pressuring me.
I didn’t mind sharing my story, but I didn’t want to incriminate Carter. “It’s not something I like to talk about…”
She gave a slight nod, her disappointment obvious. “Those things are hard to talk about…especially with someone you barely know. As time passes, it gets easier. But since the scars are permanent, you can never forget.”
My eyes watched her carefully, feeling something significant in her vague words.
“So, I understand, Mia. That’s all I want you to know.”
Carter never mentioned something terrible happened to his mother. If she’d experienced something similar, it seemed like he would have mentioned it to me. That meant he had no idea. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A man captured me, turned me into his slave, and I was in his captivity for three years.” I could share my story without mentioning Carter at all. Since she’d seen my scars, she already knew something was off anyway. Didn’t make sense to hide it. “He was brutal and cruel. There were times when I considered taking my own life, but I never did…because I have a son.”
