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“Mother,” I finally stammer, feeling the heat scald my cheek. “I wasn’t laughing. I was only thinking.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks, pushing me down a little lower. “Thinking about what, you sick little shit? Huh? Abouthim? About the disgusting things that man put into your head? I won’t tolerate this anymore, Maude! I fucking won’t! You let this go, now! You let him go, or I will fucking kill you. Do you understand?”
Hissing as the hot oil splashes on my chin, I nod, hoping to convince her of my compliance before she sears my face on the scorching metal. “I do. I do, Mother. I promise.” Holding my breath, I wait, eyeing the rapid sizzling. She clutches me there for a minute longer, blowing her alcoholic, minty breath across my neck. “You better fucking mean it this time.”
She flings me back, steadying me on my feet before heading into the main room without another word. I stare after her for a moment, one hand holding my red, blazing cheek while the other clutches my racing heart. I count the beats of my pulse, trying to slow it down as the terror that snaked around my throat begins to loosen. Once my pulse settles, the tears waiting at the bottom of my lashes fall free. They glide down my flushed cheeks, easing some of the sting left behind.
It takes me a moment, but after some time, I silently and without emotion, wipe the wetness away from my skin, erasing every tear as if they didn’t happen while letting my thoughts keep me warm. This is just how she is, I remind myself. It has nothing to do with love, nothing to do with me being her daughter. She yells, kicks, and threatens to control me because she knows it’s the only thing keeping me here.
Fear.
It’s her greatest tool.
CHAPTER THREE
By the time dinner’s ready and the three of us are sitting around the table, my face has cooled, and my heart has fallen into a steady rhythm. Mother, of course, lets ourlovelyguest sit at the head of the table while she presses her barely covered tits aggressively into his side. I’m on his right, as far as I can be, without drawing their stares.
Like I was told, I keep my head bowed, eating silently while they have a conversation about what he does in his free time. Apparently, he’s a manager at some used-car dealership. It explains a lot, actually. They don’t pay any attention to me, too caught up in each other’s gazes.
For the first time, I see something authentic on her perpetually frowning face as I take a peek up at them. Her smile seems genuine, so full of want and desire. From a detached perspective, I can’t really blame her. Jim is handsome enough, but nowhere close to the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. With a full head of soft sandy waves, eyes that undress every layer of clothing, and a body that is large and strong enough to make any woman feel petite, I see how it would be impossible not to melt for him. But still, whatever appeal he has, it’s nothing compared to the man I’m dreaming of.
Whatever lies behind her eyes makes her blind to his moving hand. It slithers across the tablecloth, knocking over the saltshaker so flakes fall onto the pristine white sheet. I observe his movements carefully beneath my lashes, noticing the change in my pulse and the chills on my skin as it comes near.
I take in his beaming smirk, a sly distraction for her, as he grabs my knees, his fingers bruising my skin in his unrelenting grip. He rips my thighs apart without ever taking his glittering stare off her, exposing my bare center to the lukewarm temperature of the room.
My eyes drop, and my exhale sputters on my lips when the cold, calloused tip of his pointer finger swirls around my opening, stealing thoughts along with the ability to breathe. He doesn’t look my way as he rolls his nails against my sensitive flesh, just continues to charm my mother with his undivided attention.
Feeling bile burn its way up my throat, I clasp his finger in mine, squeezing it tight enough to hear his bones crack. My eyes track the pulse in his neck, watching the beat increase the tighter I hold on. He expects me to throw his touch away, even attempting to pull back, but I don’t. Instead, with a smile, I hold him there, letting him admire how quickly I get wet before releasing his palm back into his lap.
He's at a loss for words as my mother asks him a question. Jim takes his time responding, bringing his swollen, red finger to rest on top of his lip.
Smell me.
I wonder, is my uncle's scent still burrowed in my walls? Is that him he’s taking in? Him, he can’t help but taste.
“Maude. Jim and I have some news to share with you.”
The tiny thrill I got from taunting Jim fades, my heart pounding in my ears with trepidation. My mother has told me many things in the past, so many plans she’s made with men that fell through the cracks. All those promises, and none of them had her sounding so… serious.
I don’t speak as I wait for her to continue. I barely take my eyes off the edge of my plate, anticipating the words that will set my life on fire. It takes a while, at least thirty breaths, before she finally utters the explosive truth.
“Jim and I are moving in together. The three of us are going to leave,farfrom here, and become a new family. We won’t have to worry about the past haunting us anymore.”
She doesn’t look my way, even when my mouth falls open, eyes still stuck on him. But Jim does, pinning me with a lustful glare from the side of his eye. With that minuscule glance, I can hear his thoughts in my head, his vile, greedy desires spilling between us like oil. I answer him by parting my legs farther, opening myself to whatever he has for me. That brings a smile to his face, one that spreads his lips wider than she has all night.
I’m going to ruin you.
Sucking in an exhale, I dip my head, mentally preparing for the pain of my mother’s words while an idea blossoms. I ready my beating heart to do what needs to be done, regardless of the pain it brings the three of us.
Subtly, I extend my hand underneath the table, blindly searching for his scratchy forearm. I find it easily, since he left it right where I dropped it. It’s almost as if he’s giving me permission to use him for my plans. It’s a good enough rationalization for me.
Unlike the last time, I take his finger with nothing but complete adoration. He lets me, barely stuttering as I guide the tip of his finger inside me. I control the speed, torturing him by leisurely driving him into my opening. Mother looks across the table at me, eyes squinting just slightly at the corners, trying to figure out why I haven’t blown up yet. I won’t give her the satisfaction, not yet. Not while her boyfriend’s fingers fill me.
It's a mental struggle, forcing his touch past my unwilling hole, but I do it without hesitation. I take this intrusion with my tongue trapped between my teeth and my eyes now on my mother, holding back the emergence of a watery smile.
I continue to stay silent, regardless of the fury turning her snowlike face a burning red. It’s crucial for my sanity, to hold back the words that will blow everything up before I get the chance to run, but when Jim shoves the entirety of his finger knuckle deep, coating his skin with streaks of my blood and ruined flesh, I can’t stop the mewl of pleasure and pain from leaving my lips.
Finally, my mother has decided she’s had enough of me.
