No Saint (Wild Men 6)

“Depression... Is that why she was always so distant, always locked up in her room...?”

Aunt Emily nods, and I close my eyes, trying to puzzle this whole thing out. Mom didn’t hate us, didn’t ignore us. She was sick. I can call her, talk to her if I want. All this time I didn’t know, I thought nobody wanted to talk about her.

But come to think of it, I was the one who never wanted to talk about her.

Oh God... All my teenage years, all my childhood I felt unwanted, undeserving. Before Ross and his bullies, before my parents got divorced and Mom left, I always thought it was me. Ugly, unwelcome, unpopular, unloved. No wonder Ross’s comments left such a lasting impression on me, sent me running. I’d been running inside my head since I was little.

Knowledge is power, right? The power is mine. Starting to understand myself better, my motivations, my triggers, I can change, become stronger. I came back to Destiny thinking I’d turned a new leaf, but I’d been on the same page all this time, trying to convince myself I was fine.

I’m not fine. But now I understand why, and with Mom a phone call away, and Ross changing into a better man, a good man, I have few excuses. It doesn’t erase the past, but with everything laid clear in front of me, the whys and wherefores, it’s my turn to take that step, let go of the old hurts and mend my world.

It’s time for actions, not words.

Chapter Thirty

Ross

Tonight there’s some sort of family night at Luna’s and she isn’t sure she can slip out and come meet me. I wait for her anyway, sitting on the porch outside, listening to frogs croaking and absently rubbing my many scars, old and new, under my T-shirt. The new ones under my ribs, all scabbed over and itchy, and the fainter ones higher up my chest.

Like a map, I think, a map of my life, taking a swig from my tequila bottle and leaning back in the creaking rocking chair my dad liked so much.

I suppress a shiver and the ever-present urge to get up and go, leave this

fucking house behind forever.

This house... it’s almost bearable being here when she’s around. Too bad she’s not here now and it’s trying to close its walls around me, crush me like a damn bug. It’s why I sat outside, hoping that the open space will calm my racing heartbeat.

Dad was almost never home after Mom... was gone, leaving me to fend for myself, always sleeping with one or another of his mistresses.

It wasn’t all that bad. Truth is, I was fucking glad when he wasn’t around, looking for excuses to beat me up. Though, to be honest, my memory isn’t all that clear. It’s as if my childhood is shrouded in a fucking mist, with some blinding spots of pain.

I take out the photo from my pocket. It’s crumpled and I frown down at it. I should take a pic with my phone before it gets completely ruined.

Seeing it reminds me of the box under my bed.

It also reminds me of what I found in the shed. The earrings. The yellowed papers. I should go back, take a look at them. I hate that shed, where Dad kept the bloodstained ax, where he attacked me with the knife. I’ll go one of these days, though... I really should...

My eyes close and sleep rolls me under. It’s hard, sleeping without my girl. I had no choice before, but now, I sleep better with her. Something inside me relaxes and I sleep deeper, more peacefully.

I do my fucking best to ignore how the nights and days are tagged as with or without Luna.

But she’s not here tonight, dammit, and I can’t use her as a crutch to sleep. Not that my tired body cares, either, and I doze off again before I know it.

It’s dark, so damn dark, and I hide inside... a closet. A cramped space even if I’m little, my legs skinny, my hair hanging in my eyes. Dad is prowling outside, looking for me, snarling like a rabid dog. He’s drunk, I know he is, and he’s snapping his belt like a whip at the floor and furniture. Whenever he hits the closet doors, I jerk, and I clamp my hands over my mouth to keep back the howl that’s building in my throat.

Can’t make noise or he’ll find me. Have to stay quiet.

But the doors fly open, he grabs me by the scruff of the neck and throws me down and then the pain starts.

All your fault, Ross, all your goddamn fault—and it’s Dad’s voice but it’s echoing inside my head, between my ears. Worthless dumb shit, I’ll kill your mother for dumping you on me, I’ll show the bitch... I’d sell your hide if I thought it was worth a fucking penny... I’ll show you what happens to little pussies like you... If I hear a single damn sound out of your mouth you’ll find out what pain really means...

The dark roars and twists around me, rocking me, blinding me, but this time, it’s not the belt that hits my back but a long knife, cutting through me, all the way to the heart—

I jerk awake, panting, a scream caught behind my teeth. Fuck, fuck, what...? Did that ever happen, did he say those things—?

A noise. Coming from across the house, from the trees. Someone is crashing through the weeds, stepping on rotting branches in the undergrowth.

A stupid fear grips me that Dad is here, come to punish me for... for what? Liking a girl? Missing her? For smashing the mirror and trying to change?