The Baby Blue Bentley {Russell Westbrook}

Chapter XXXIII

"I can't believe you would do that!" Desiree screamed at me, one of her hands waving in the air to express her anger, the other clutching her pregnant stomach. "I'm going to her trial on Tuesday and I'm getting her out of that hellhole!" She groaned and screamed at the same time out of frustration, "I can't believe you would do that to her! What ever made you do that! Call the police on her for a crime you know she never committed!"

I tried to remain calm with my pregnant sister, but it was a lot harder than I had ever imagined. "D, calm down, please. Sit down," I offered her a chair next to mine. She folded her arms across her chest, standing her ground. "Fine. Be that way. I have proof against her. She told me to my face that she did it. I'm sorry. I know how close you and her are—"

"Bullshit!" She yelled back, not allowing me to finish. Talking to Desiree was like talking to a brick wall sometimes and it could drive me insane. If Desiree didn't want to believe something, she wasn't going to believe it. Period. "You just want to come between her and I. You've always been jealous of our relationship." I snorted and shook my head, adding a giggle. "Do you know what type of position you put our father in? He's never going to speak to Mom again."

"Good," I said, shrugging, "She killed someone he loved—"

"He never loved that little girl!" Desiree shouted back at me. She tried to lower her voice, but it didn't work. She was too worked up. "Don't say that ever again."

"I don't get why you don't just accept it," I blatantly said. I was getting irritated with her quickly, "Our father fell out of love with our mother a long time ago. And now we know why. She's a crazy psychopath—"

"Jesus, Monica! Can you stop with all this? Why are you doing this? Is this some sort of grand plan? Let me come split the family apart?"

"You know that was never my intention," I told her, shaking my head. "Don't be stupid. Seriously. I know you are the younger one so you're supposed to be stupid and naïve, but this is just... wow."

"Wow? Wow? That's how you are going to describe it? I've known my mother my whole life—"

"Where the hell do you think I've been?" I cut her off, viciously. "Under a damn rock? No, Desiree, you are lucky. You never got on Mom's bad side. She has one and it isn't pretty. You've never seen how viscous she can get. You have no idea."

"And you would know? How do you know? What do you know?" She snapped. I stood up from my chair and removed my shirt. She studied me intently, having no idea what my actions were. I turned around so she could see my back. I didn't hear her say anything at first, but I heard her take a few steps closer to me. I felt her fingertips trace against my back. "I never..." Her voice trailed off in awe. "When.... How..."

"You have been asking me all these years why I left when I was sixteen," I explained, tears brimming around the corners of my eyes, "Why I never came back. That's why... She's not a good person, D. She's not." Desiree didn't say anything. She was speechless. "She beat me with a whip. Like I was a fucking slave. Over and over and over..."

"You don't have to tell me," She said, backing away from my scars. She shook her head and sat down in the chair on the other side of the table facing me. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let her continue?"

"I didn't have a choice," I whispered, shaking my head and brushing a tear off my cheek. "You have no idea how hard it was to call the police on her. It was... so hard. Then I remembered... What she did to me... And I knew I had too. I didn't have a choice. Before I even thought about calling the police on her, I thought about you, how you might feel. I just prayed that maybe one day you will understand why I did it."