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CHAPTER TEN
The faint noises downstairs stopped after ten minutes. Now, all that’s left in the house is sweet, uninterrupted silence. Exhaling, I wipe my hands on the sides of my hips, sickened by the sticky residue of Mother and Jim on my palms. I should just wash them, but Uncle always left pieces of me on his flesh, so it’s only right I do the same.
With my eyes closed and my head resting against the thick wooden frame, I let the adrenalin die inside me. Downstairs, I felt it consuming me, turning my blood into blackened fire with Mother’s tears and Jim’s sack of bones. As much as I enjoyed embracing my Greene heritage, I don’t want to be in charge. I don’t want to be drawing the blade.
I want to bleed.
Pushing away from the door, I swipe my hands through my hair, raking my nails across my scalp until I reach the knots at the base of my neck. I squeeze the tension away as I turn the corner, applying more pressure than necessary when I walk into Mother’s room.
The first step over the threshold throws me back in time, back to the night I was forced to taste her flesh and take a life. It’s funny how one scared me more than the other.
I always hated when anyone but him touched me, but I took it. I let Jim do it because, at the end of the day, I knew what that would get me, but Mother? My mom… she was a line I never wanted to cross. And then I was forced. And she didn’t fucking stop it.
Hate blurs the lines, and no one hated me more than her. She never protected me, not like my uncle. He’s who I need now.
Nothing is stopping me from getting him back.
Dropping my hands, I sprint into my mother’s closet, pulling clothes off hangers and boxes from shelves until the space is cleared out. I’m not worried about the ruckus I’m making. No one around here calls the cops unless the screaming doesn’t stop, so I use their neglect to get what I want, tearing the room apart to find what I need.
“I know you have it. I know it’s in here somewhere.” My mother didn’t justknowmy uncle's address. She worked her entire life to leave him behind, so it’s written somewhere, hidden away. I just have to find it.
The first place I check is the case inside her closet. It’s where she keeps her personal files; birth certificate, records, the first and only photo of us two. I expect to feel a pang in my gut when I see it, but I’m pleasantly surprised to feel nothing when I look into our eyes. We never had much of a connection. She did her best to make sure of it.
Tossing the photo to the side, I scavenge through everything else thrown to the floor. The clothes are pointless, but I was hoping to see an address scribbled on one of the sheets, maybe a scrap of paper. “Fuck.” I would take anything. Frustrated, I tear my fingers through my tangled strands, storming over to the dresser to rip the wood from the rails. The cabinets crash to the ground, exposing nothing but scraps of lace and clothes she had no business going out in.
Hours of this pass, and I am left as clueless as I was before. With the sun setting and destruction surrounding me, I throw myself on the bed, lying there motionless until my irritation is too much to control. Releasing a snarl, I begin flailing, slamming my fists against the mattress while my feet kick against the frame.
“Fuck!” is all I can roar, breaking down as I sense all my wishes and dreams crumbling. It’s too much to carry, too heavy for me to remain lying on this bed. I slide off the mattress and onto the floor, yanking at the shirt on my chest as if the fabric is holding me down.
I have the shirt halfway up my chest, when a white corner captures my attention. My mother doesn’t keep pictures, as they hold too many reminders, yet that’s exactly what I find when I drop the material and reach underneath the bed.
At first glance, I don’t understand what I’m looking at. The grain, staining, and scratches are almost too thick to see through, but I would know his face anywhere. With shaky hands, I trace the seam of his smile, letting tears well in my eyes as I admire him at my age.
“You’re so beautiful,” I mutter, staring into his blue gaze. Unlike Jim, his are full of life, promise… love. Like the sea, I want them to drag me out, drifting me so far from land, I down into their abyss.
The photo shows him sitting on a ragged, red couch, and beside him, a young girl lies against his side. His arms wrap around her thin shoulders while she stares vacantly into the camera. I’ve never seen my mother young. I take her in, her round face and long black hair. She’s stunning, a vision of youth with years in her eyes.
I flip the image around, looking for something, expecting to find nothing.
“Keep running, Tessy. It’ll catch up to you one day.”
His writing.
His words.
I can hear them in my head, feel them wrapping around my heart until it cracks under pressure. I don’t stop the tears from falling as I hold the photo to my chest. In a desperate attempt to see more, I lift the corner of the mattress, searching for more and instead coming up with an empty envelope.
The fracture lengthens a bit, but everything changes once I flip it to the front.
“I found you.”
EPILOGUE
I’ve never driven a car before, haven’t even been in one for years. I had nowhere to go, and my mother never allowed me out of the house. So the moment I got behind Jim’s Nissan Sentra, I had no clue what to do. I knew the basics, but finally, getting on the road without instantly jerking the car to a stop took forever.
The first stop I made was at the corner store where Mother picks up her cigarettes. I didn’t have much money on me, but luckily, the maps the clerk had behind the counter were only a few dollars. From there, the drive was simple. Our highway doesn’t get very busy, leaving me with much-needed space for the majority of the trip.
I saw things I forgot existed; the strong current of rivers, billowing trees that loomed over vast fields of flowers, buildings, and people, and a world full of beauty that I lost behind the walls of my home. The hatred I felt for my mother springs up inside me again, burning brighter for keeping me contained when there was a life waiting for me. My uncle would have never done that. I wouldn’t have been a slave, a thing to whip and beat whenever deemed fit.
