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“Mary? Mary!” He slaps a hand across my face, and I look at him in utter disgust. Pressing his fingers against her neck, he silent as he listens for a pulse.
“Damnit!” He shouts. “Stupid, stupid, woman.”
He looks up at me, and the rage from my mom transfers over to me. Just like that.Just like always.
Cocking his fist back, he slams it into my cheek before I even have a moment to react. He climbs over mydead motherand gets on top of me, hitting me once, twice, three times. He keeps going, punch after punch into my face. The years of hiding his abuse beneath my clothes has been broken now that my mother is gone. It seems he no longer cares about hiding the man that hides behind these walls.
I would say that he no longer cares about me, but I think its blatantly obvious he never cared in the first place.
He continues to hit me until I can no longer see out of my eyes and the taste of blood fills my mouth. My ears thrum and my face throbs.
Out of breath, he shoves off of me and barks, “Get the fuck out of here, boy. I need to deal with your mother.”
I groan as I roll over, lightheaded and barely conscious.
“I said get out of here, you stupid fuck!” He roars, kicking me in the side.
I fall to my stomach, swallowing down a painful grunt. Sliding my knees underneath me, I use all my strength and limp out of there, slamming the door shut behind me. I hear something crash inside, but I don’t look back.
Where I’d usually go to Easton’s after a bad night, my body is for some reason moving me towards Cara’s house.
When I get to her door, I lean all my weight against her doorframe and knock. I can barely stand on my feet at this point. My eye is completely swollen shut and the ringing in my right ear won’t stop.
I hear her feet pad to the door; the lock unhinges and the door creak open.
“Jackson?” Cara gasps. “Oh, my fucking God, what the hell happened to you?” She grabs onto my arm and pulls me inside. She pokes her head outside before shutting and locking the door behind her.
She grabs onto my arm, pulling me towards her room. “Holy shit, Jackson! Can you hear me?” She shoves me on her bed, assessing me from head to toe.
“Yes, I can hear you.” I’m not going to tell her I can only hear her in one ear.
“What happened? Who did this to you?” She walks out of her room and comes back with an icepack and a towel.
“Jackson? I saidwho did this to you.” She presses the towel onto my eyebrow, and I wince. It feels like something’s broken.
“My mom’s dead.” I say instead of telling her the truth.
She freezes her movements, moving her eyes down to me and staring. Only staring.
“What did you say?” She whispers.
“My mom’s dead.” I repeat. I’m not going to tell her—or anyone—that she killed herself. That’s something that I’ll take to the grave.
“Oh, my God! When? Where? How?” She cries, falling to her knees between my legs and squeezing my thighs. “I’m so sorry! B-but, what happened to you? Why are you like this? Did she get hurt?”
“She overdosed on heroine.” I’m very aware that I’m becoming numb and spouting these answers like they were rehearsed. Absolutely no emotion or feeling in my answers. It feels like I’m not even here, like I detached myself from my body and watching this scene happening from above.
Maybe my dad killed me.
Cara cries. Big fat tears fall down her face for someone she barely knew. Someone that she maybe spoke to three times over the last number of years, and she’s crying like it was her own mother. But then I wonder, would she even cry like this for her own mother?
“Stop crying.” I lift her under her arms and bring her up on the bed with me. The pain makes my bones groan in agony, but I don’t care. I hate seeing Cara like this. She should never cry this hard. Not for my druggie mother, and certainly not for me.
“P-please, tell me what happened.” She blubbers in my arms.
I take a deep breath and lay back. It’s time to fess up. Come clean with my life and rid myself of my shit childhood. If for some reason I have some kind of a brain bleed, I want to die with my conscious clear. If there’s anyone I want to know what has happened in my life, it’s Cara.
“Come here.” I pat the spot next to me, and she widens her eyes in horror.
