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She remembered the pain of the grafts, the stiffness in her limbs, the mix of dulled and heightened sensations.
The docs who’d taken care of her in the hospital had seen evidence of her parents’ irresponsibility, nearly killing them all when they couldn’t be bothered to use an ashtray, when their trailer had burned to the ground.
Her docs had seen her back.
And they’d seen the cigarette burns on her thighs, the sides of her breasts.
Seen she’d already been marked.
Many times over.
This was whysheknew she’d deal, she’d gather her strength, she’d heal, and then she would move on. Her friends were worried. The doctors had recommended a therapist.
It was just…circumstances didn’t define her.
Not anymore.
Only…hearing her mom’s voice—
She swallowed hard.
For a second, she thought her mom might give a fuck, had turned over a new leaf because her daughter had almost died.
But that had only lasted a second.
Asecond.
Because then her mom had begun spinning some dumbass story about an investor for her new business falling through—and Raven had to admit, this was one step up from up from “needing money for milk” (that was actually spent on hydrocodone)—but damn…it hurt.
It shouldn’t hurt.
She’d had more than her fair share of manipulations and abuse from her mom, from both of her parents.
But…she’d almost died again.
And…they didn’t care, except when it came to what she could give them.
She wastired.
Even after spending the day with Connor’s parents, with Kim and Caleb and Cole, all of whom had fussed over her and made sure she hardly lifted more than a fork from her plate to her mouth (and she had no doubt that if it looked like she would falter in shoveling in the food Kim and Martha had whipped up for her that Martha would have snatched that fork and commenced in feeding Raven until she was stuffed full), she wasexhausted.
With italics.
That bone deep sort of tired that made it difficult to even sleep, that no amount of rest seemed to alleviate.
And that was making her emotional. Not actually hurt because her mom was still her mom. It wasn’trealhurt filling her insides, slicing through her belly. It was the fatigue that came from healing, the exhaustion that trailed it.
Not that some tiny part of her had hoped it might be different now with her mom, with her parents. That things had changed and maybe she could have something that was like…well, something that was a little like what Connor had with his parents.
Love and affection, both freely given.
Helping without expecting anything in return.
A closeness—
She dropped her hand to her thigh, tapped at the screen a few times, and blocked the number her mom had called from.
Filed away her hurt into a deep, dark drawer.
