AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Help us?” I snort at the thought. “No one can help us,” I whisper. I lift my hand to knock on the door and demand my daughter back when Poppy speaks again.
“He still has to wake up,” she whispers to me. I drop my hand. Maybe I shouldn't bring her home with me. At least here, she is safe. Tears burn my eyes, and I chew my lip, glancing back at the house, knowing he would wake up eventually.
“Maybe we could stay here?” My wolf sounds hopeful, but even she knows that will make things worse.
“We have to face him sometime,” I tell her.
I take one last look at the door before stepping off the porch to find my mother leaning against her door, arms folded across her chest, she has her floral dressing gown on, her hair in a messy bun. I avert my gaze, praying she doesn't come over. No such luck…
My mother starts walking across the green lawns and between the swings of the park, while I hastily start walking home, not wanting to get into another argument with her. Not tonight, I am drained, both physically and emotionally. I have no fight left, nothing.
If only she knew; they all think I am against them. What they don't realize is I am doing this for them. “Rosie!” my mother calls out to me, and I fight back a groan of annoyance. Isn't this enough for one night?
“Rosie!” my mother calls again, only this time grabbing my arm and making me stop.
“What's going on?” she asks. I want to tell her, but if she knows. If she truly knew… I shake my head at the thought. My mother stares at me, her grief written across her face, but also something else. Something I am seeing far too often these days; she's scared for me. As if she didn't have enough fears, I didn't need to be another one of them.
“Nothing, Casey wanted to stay with her father,” I smile, the lie rolling off the tip of my tongue so effortlessly, you'd think I've spent my days rehearsing it.
She grabs both my arms. “Tell me, tell me, baby. Say the word, let us intervene.”
“Intervene in what? Casey is having a sleepover, you know just like me and Matilda did when we were little. She'll be fine.” I play off her words and pull away from her, turning toward my house when she speaks again.
“But will you be?” she asks me. I stop in my tracks when she continues. “You think we don't know but we do… Do you think we can't see it? He doesn't need to leave marks on you. He doesn't need to do it out in the open. You think you hide it… you don't.”
“I'm not hiding anything,” I breathe, turning to face her. She slowly walks up to me, her hands gripping my face.
“Stop lying, let us help. At least stop lying to yourself,” she whispers.
“Nothing is going on, it's just your paranoia,” I tell her, seeing the hurt shine in her eyes at my words. If only she knew those words hurt me saying them.
“You can't hide from me, I see you; I've always seen you, Rose. I see your pain, I see how it haunts you.”
I shove her away, impatience building. Her meddling will only tip the scales from bad to worse. My mother growls at my actions. “You can't cloak your wounds in silence forever, Rose,” her voice trembles, echoing the sadness of a thousand unspoken words. “I look at you and I see through your carefully worn facade. Just as I see his abuse reflected in your eyes.”
“Those tiny signs you think no one notices, the nervous twitch of your fingers when voices are raised, the skin-crawling fear that engulfs you — the way it makes your skin itch. I've observed them all first hand, I know the signs.”
I swallow, tears pricking at my eyes, and I try to come up with something to say when she continues. “The distant, vacant gaze when you retreat into your shell... when you shut it out, just so you dont have to feel it break you more. She whispers, choking on each word as if knowing it pains her as it does me.
“I recognize it, Rose. I am no stranger to it. I am not hallucinating or being paranoid. I know the face of a person disintegrating under the weight of their tormentor because I stared at the same haunted expression in my reflection for years. You can't hide from me.”
I shake my head. “You have no idea what you're talking about, Mom, stay out of it. My life is not yours to dictate… to be concerned about.” I turn and stomp off toward the house.
“Then take your title!” she yells. “Challenge your father!”
I swallow, knowing I can't give Vince that sort of power. I can't let him be Alpha… Shaking off her words, I move toward the porch, cutting across the lawn.
“Rose!” She calls after me.
I ignore her, jogging up the front steps and moving toward the front, pulling on the busted handle, the frame all cracked. Only the moment I do, the entire thing falls apart at my feet, the wood turning to splinters.
Glancing over my shoulder, my mother stands staring at me, and at the mess at my feet. My face heats with shame, but I ignore her, closing the mesh screen instead and locking it.
Moving through the house, I grab a dustpan and broom from the laundry to start cleaning up. Vince is still out cold, I suspect he'll stay down for the night, he's had a lot to drink this afternoon. Sweeping around his body, I nudge him with my foot. He groans but doesn't wake, thankfully.
Moving quietly about the house cleaning, I stop near Casey's bedroom door. Guilt gnaws at me. She's so little, yet seen so much. Gripping the door handle, I pull the door closed and move to the master bedroom. Pushing the door open, I move to the dresser to grab some pajamas when I hear Vince's phone ring from the kitchen.
It's like time stops at that first ring, cold sweat beads and slivers down my neck. The second ring makes me jolt as if the sound struck me.
