Silence Me (Dare Me Series Book 1)

Part 2

She looks back to me, startled at my proximity. Her eyes go the house behind me. She sniffs and brings her cigarette to her mouth. Cold air mixes with gray toxins and I step back to keep it from going in my face. "Closure?" She says in a question. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I shake my head and look at the ground. Anger fades and hurt takes over. I like anger better. Because hurt is too heavy. "He raped me. Did you know that? That your husband raped me?" Her eyes jerk to mine, and for the first time I see a person inside of the heartless shell. "I wish you wouldn't call me Bethany I am your mom." I laugh coldly. "Mom? You didn't earn that title." I turn back to the house. "He hit me and made sure to tell me everyday that I am as worthless and undeserving of anyone's love." Laying my sight back on her, I see the shake in her fingers as she breathes in nicotine. I point at her. "You left me with that." She closes her eyes and brings her closed fist to her mouth as she stumbles back , the car catching her fall. Her hand hits the side of her foot as she tries to get a grip. The smoke falls from her fingers and her whole body starts to shake, but she keeps upright. I guess the truth is too heavy for her to hold. Her body physically tries to go to the ground. I take a step closer. Surprisingly I don't yell. My voice is eerily calm, as if I'm making sure she is hearing ever single syllable. "You are the reason I'm so fucked to. Why I have issues with trust and love. Why I can't open up to people who care about me." I point to the house ."you are there sons for everything that happened to me in there." I take a deep breath. "Any you ask why it matter?" I laugh, but there's zero humor. I can't believe this whole goddamn situation. Tears cloud my vision and I wipe my face with the back of my hand. "I'm sorry," she whispers. Her voice brittle. She's sorry. My heart freezes like the cold rain kissing my cheeks. "God made the world in six days," she says. I narrow my eyes. What the hell is she talking about? " I always thought he shouldn't have talent he day off. He Half assed it and I think it's the human who got short ended." "You mean because we're so flawed?" I ask. "That's exactly what I mean. We're flawed, lacking. He made this great big world beautiful in every way except for us." I chuckle and wipe my nose. She's crazy, but I'm fluent in crazy. Is this her way of say she ain't perfect? That she make a mistake. I scoff. A mistake is putting a red shirt in with the whitest her leaving wasn't a simple mistake: it was a life decision that affected my well being. My eyes skip past her, looking done the road I though I'd never see again. I used to sit under the tree when I was just a girl, staring dreamily at that road, wondering if she'd ever come back down it. My eyes were transfixed. The breeze picks up. Encircling next in an icy whirlwind, but I don't move. The sky shades and the world bleeds gloom, a faint smell of whiskey cause the hair on my arms to stand up and I'm unable to decipher if I've cheated time as a meme org okay out before my eyes.

"Come here" I hear his loud voice coming form the open window of the house. His voice is slurred and causes me to roll my eyes. Mama has been gone for five years now, and I still look down this gravel road, parting she'll come back for me. I'm thirteen now. I love daydreaming and reading books from the school library. Books are fun because they let me escape my true reality. Mama is gone. My stepdad is an asshole. I'm unwanted. "I said come here!" He yells again. Causing me to jump from my thoughts. I stand up from under the tree and head inside. The sky is as gray as the smoke from the cigars he smokes. And the smells of rain makes he homesick for a home I don't have. "Yeah?" I ask, walking into the house. "Get in here and clean up this mess." He's piss drunk and reeks of whiskey. I look behind him at the kitchen I cleaned only an hour ago. Now crumbs from a sandwich he made cover the counter, along with an open bread bag. And a dirty butter knife. The ham is still out, and I see beer bottles on the stove. I shake my head at him. "You clean it, I didn't make this mess." I regret saying this as soon as it leave my mouth x he throws a beer bottle toward me, kissing my head by an inch, but beer splatters onto my face when it passes by. Before I can wipe it off, he has my hair fisted in his hand and he's roughly directing me to the kitchen. I wince and try to pull his arm off, but it's a futile attempt. My face is shoved into front of the beer bottles covering the stove. So close my nose touches one of them and it tilts over, spilling a last swallow onto the stovetop. "Grab them," he says. I reach my arm and collect as many as I can.