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“Come on. I’ll keep you company.” Mom is dazzled by the wink he sends her way. She’s so busy gazing at him with stars in her eyes that she doesn’t even notice his hand resting a little too low on my back.
Unsure of what to do with it, I lurch forward, disgusted by his touch. His fingers drop instantly, swinging by his side while my stare fixes ahead. I’m about to cross the threshold into the main room when I turn back, meeting mother’s severe expression across the way. Our passing glance tells me nothing, no instructions to follow other than to fix him a drink and behave. I don’t see anything in her eyes other than blank worry. Typically, she likes to see me squirm. It’s fun for her, she says, wanting to see how long I can withstand discomfort since I crave it so much.
“Tessa didn’t tell me she has such a beautiful daughter. How old are you, beautiful girl?” His hand finds its way to my lower back again, this time pressing farther against my skin. I can feel the heat of his palm burning my flesh through the thick material of the shirt. They leave an imprint on me, marring the spaces I left just forhim.
“Quiet, I see. That’s okay. I’m sure I can get you to talk one way or another.”
Rolling my eyes, I hold my tongue, keeping that smile plastered on my lips before muttering, “I’m eighteen.”
His whistle is laced with appreciation, long and sharp like the look he rakes down my body. “Well, you’re a woman now, aren’t you?”
I am.
I became a woman the day my uncle entered my body.
I becamehiswoman.
Spinning, I take a closer look at the man my mother decided to bring home. Now that we have a moment alone, I can observe him without her eyes stabbing into my sockets. The front of him matches the back; broad shoulders, an outfit meant to look expensive… but isn’t. I search for my uncle, any trace of him in this man’s blue eyes and dirty blond head, but I don’t find him anywhere. I swear she does that on purpose, intentionally bringing home men that resemble nothing of her brother, so I feel that loss so much deeper.
“What are you looking at?”
As I run my gaze over the entirety of him for a second time, I shake my head, feeling that empty nothingness spread across my insides like a raging inferno. “Nothing.”
Forcing my mind to go blank instead of letting my temper rise, I spin to make the drink my mother demanded. While I stand here, watching the dark liquid trickle over ice, I sense movement behind me. The muscles in my neck stiffen instinctively when Jim’s thick, unwelcoming fingers dance along the scooped collar of my loose pink shirt. I watched him raise his hand from my peripheral, but my curiosity wouldn’t allow me to react. Now that his flesh is touching mine, I wish I had slipped away sooner.
“Why are you here? What did my mother promise you?” Because that can be the only explanation for why she brought him here. Promises are always made and never kept. They don’t stay long enough for that.
“I—”
“Maude. Come in here.”
My mother’s voice comes out sweet. The kind of sweet riddled with barely contained fury and the promise of pain. Jim can’t see it. When he looks into her eyes, all he’s met with is a wide grin and a sparkling gaze. But me? Oh, I know that trembling smile like the back of my hand.
Feeling tension rise into my veins, I grind my heels into the floor, ducking past Jim while embracing the splinters piercing into the thick skin of my feet. Suddenly, I catch a sickly sensation flowing through me. Twisting, I glance at Jim, his stare stuck on my departing feet. I turn to see if Mother saw it, but her furious glare is only directed at me. She doesn’t have to say a word for me to understand her message. It rings loud and clear in my head.
Get the fuck away from him.
Not wanting to upset her more than I already have, I hurry into the next room, sparing Jim one final look before disappearing behind the kitchen door. Collecting pots and pans from the table, I prepare to throw together a quick dinner, knowing she couldn’t have gotten far. She sits back, leaning against the wall with a cigarette in between her fingers.
Ignoring her, I let the chaos she created in the kitchen distract me from her venomous glare. It’s loud and obnoxious, two things she hates when it comes to me. I wait for her to scold me for attempting to seduce this man,even though I wasn’t, but the anger in her voice never comes. Instead, to my dismay, she laughs, twisting my nerves into a tighter knot than before.
The sound is foreign to me. It almost feels like a blade to my gut. The knife cutting deeper the longer it goes on. Why is she doing this? Why is Jim here? I don’t want to play whatever game she has going on.
I don’t know how long passes before she takes her first step toward me. I was able to successfully tune her out, focusing on my task while she teetered by the window. But now, Mother stands at my back as I’m frying the remainder of the food, watching me with a calculating expression. The heat of her stare makes me sweat. I know what she’s doing. She wants to see how easily I can be distracted, so she has a reason to bend me over the counter and beat my ass with an open fist.
My uncle used to do the same, finding enjoyment in toying with me and seeing how far he could take my body. I pushed him, which wasn’t smart, not with the games he enjoyed playing. But I wanted to have some fun too. Mother isn’t like that. If I don’t give her what she wants, she finds another sort of pleasure in my pain, one that won’t allow for my own.
Footsteps sound over the sizzling, competing with the beat of my heart. I hate the way my skin crawls as she comes near, the anticipation of her next move slithering beneath my flesh. I try to decipher her intentions before she reaches me, but there’s never any knowing with Mother. One day, I think I’ve got her tone down, finally cracked the code, but I’m always wrong.
Still, it doesn’t stop me from trying.
I fight the muted growl from leaving my lips as she presses into my back. Instead, I seek comfort in my memories, replacing her sickening touch with the firm press of his solid physique, knowing it wouldn’t take much for him to snap my bones in half. He would never do that, though. He loved me then, and he would love me now. My uncle would never hurt me.
“What are you laughing at?” Swiftly, I wipe the grin from my lips, but it’s too late. She already saw pleasure in my eyes. That isn’t permitted, not unless she allows it.
I don’t bother trying to explain what brought a smile to my face, the idea of her infiltrating the thoughts of him holding me so tightly he breaks me in two, makes me want to vomit on her disgusting red toenails, but Mother isn’t a patient woman, and she won’t stand for my silence.
Gripping the nape of my neck, she forces me down, slowly shoving my face into the opaque steam of heat. It amazes me how easily she overpowers my struggling, laughing as I thrash above the bubbling oil. “Awww, what’s wrong, Maude? Something not so funny anymore?” I huff in her hold, eyeing the sizzling cast iron. The inches shorten, and I hold my tongue, but as hard as I try, I can’t spit out another fake apology. Fear becomes a vise around my throat, and it feeds something inside her, a sick sort of joy.
