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I didn’t expect Lane to clean my face with a washcloth and rub ointment on the grazes on my face and bruises on my wrist.
Stanley stands with my pill bottle in hand and I look away. I hate taking them, they make me woozy and numb. He opens the bottle and empties it down the drain, then presses the button above the sink and we all listen to them churn and grind.
My lips part as I stare at the swollen profile of the man who I attacked with mace.
“No more,” he whispers and grips the counter edge for support. His voice has a hard gruff edge to it when he explains, “I will never put my hands on you, Mallory… sorry… Scandal. I will never hurt you in any way and I am sorry that I frightened you.”
For some reason, I believe him and my heart gets heavy in my chest.
“When you’re ready to talk to us, when you’re ready to talk to anybody, we’ll be here to listen.”
Then he leaves the room and Lane squeezes both my hands. “Let’s run you a bath, okay?”
“Why aren’t you mad?” I ask quietly. “Why aren’t I being kicked out? Why aren’t you forcing my pills down my throat?”
“We’re not giving up on you, that’s why.”
I don’t know who these people are or what they want, but this is the first time in my entire life that I haven’t been punished or shouted at for something I did.
My eyes fill with tears and my jaw locks as I try to fight them.
“Would you like a hug?” she asks, sensing my emotional state.
I shake my head.
“Maybe one day.” She helps me stand and leads me upstairs. “You soak in a bath. We will be downstairs if you need us.”
“I told you to keep her medicated! She’s clinically insane!” My uncle’s familiar drawling hiss has me rousing from slumber. I must have dozed off after my bath, something I don’t typically allow myself to do.
“She’s fucking terrified is what she is!” Stanley bellows back.
“She’s a manipulative liar. She will ruin me; she will ruin you. I told you she belongs in an institution!”
So it wasn’t my uncle that got me out of there?
There’s a scuffle and banging, followed by the sound of a smash. I stand in my doorway and twist my fingers as I listen to them fight. I know the sounds well, having heard similar sounds many times before.
“Stay the fuck away from us all or I’ll be the one who ruins you, Eamon. Do you hear me?”
“You’re making a big mistake. That girl is trouble.”
“Get the fuck outta my house.”
I hear the door slam and look out the window as my uncle strides towards his car. Just seeing the back of him makes me feel as sick as a dog.
Speaking of dogs, I let the big beast into my room when he starts pawing my door with his claws. He’s soothing. I like having him near.
I hear something else shatter and jump an inch from the floor. My hand goes to my thundering heart.
“I should kill him,” Stanley yells and I hear the sound of footsteps crunching glass.
“We don’t know that it was him, we don’t know that it was what you think it was. It could just be trauma from her time inside. It could have been the institution. She has a darkness to her, Stanley. She could be playing us like he said.” I can’t blame Lane for looking at every angle. She could be right after all.
“You didn’t see her face, Lane. You didn’t see her fa—”
A door closes and their words are cut off.
I sit on my bed and wrap my arms around my legs. They think they know me but they don’t. They think they know my past but they definitely don’t.
I don’t want them to know. I don’t want anybody to know.
“You look beautiful, Scandal,” Lane tells me with a smile.
I give her a flat look and she giggles.
“You’re going to be great,” Stanley explains with a tender smile. His eyes still look so sore. I haven’t yet apologized for that. Likely because I’m embarrassed and I don’t want to bring it up. It should come easy, the apology is on the tip of my tongue but I just can’t say it, not to him. “Just keep your head down and stay out of trouble, join a club or two like Jefferson suggested.”
I nod and grab my near-empty school bag; it’ll probably be full by the end of the day. It’s actually quite a nice bag. It’s a black, glittering backpack that should fit everything without issue.
“I’ll take you,” Stanley says, nodding at Lane. Then, with a cautious gaze, he quickly adds, “If that’s okay with you?”
“No pressure,” Lane replies.
“Sure,” I utter, dreading the conversation that’s likely to follow.
