If You Find Me(68)

“She went into town for supplies” I stammer at his feet, my stomach gathered up in one huge cramp.

“Don’t you look away, girl. Only liars look away!”

I look into his eyes, and it’s all I can do to hold his gaze.

“Do you know our mama, sir?”

I’m buyin time, time to think of somethin’. I’m in charge. My steady voice fools even myself. My mind whirs a mile a minute.

“I’m Carey. This is my sister, Jenessa.”

“Pretty little things, aren’t ya?”

My heart drops when he laughs, a soulless sound if ever there was one, capped off by a cobwebbed meth cough, a sound we know all too well. Jenessa leans over and empties her stomach on the ground.

In four lightnin steps, he covers the leafmeal between us, his hand dartin’ out to wrap around my throat.

“You don’t know what you’re doin’,” I say. “You’re makin a big mistake.”

“I asked you, where’s your mama, girl? She owes me money and I’m not leavin without it.”

My fingers encircle his fingers, desperate to loosen the hold, my flesh burnin, his grip a vise. I cry out in pain.

“Mama should be back any minute, sir. If you want to wait, you can have some food and—”

“Where does she keep the money?”

I listen to my voice, small and placatin, like I’m talkin’ to someone rational. Tears flow down my cheeks, but he don’t let go.

“I... I—we don’t have no money, sir. But if you wait for Mama—”

“When’s the last time she’s been here? And don’t lie to me, bitch.”

“Five weeks ago.”

I tell him the truth. Maybe he’ll let me go and go lookin’ somewhere else. But he leans in, breathin on me, and my one mistake is turnin’ my head to escape his breath.

“You look at me, girl, when I’m talkin’ to ya!”

My head jerks to the right under the crack of his hand, and white stars dance in the air. Beyond, there’s a lake of blackness. I fight it with all my bein’.

[page]In the Hundred Acre Wood, I could always see them comin before they appeared. Nessa, a pink peekaboo through breathless greenery. Mama, a lemon yellow zing of insulted bushes and low-hangin’ branches whippin across her store-bought ski jacket.

Between the white stars, the lemon yellow flashes, but it don’t zing. It sneaks off in the direction it came, at a quick but silent clip.

“Mama!”

But the scream lodges itself deep in my throat like a rabbit’s knucklebone.

With one sweepin’ gesture, our dinner flies to the forest floor, and he uses his free hand to rip off my jeans and undergarments. He hauls me by my ponytail backward onto the table, the metal edge digging into my calf. As the white stars fade, I see him fumblin with his zipper. He forces my legs apart, his breath quickenin’, his weight crushin’. I feel white lightnin rip through my stomach.

That’s the last thing I remember before goin dark.

It’s Jenessa’s screams that rouse me. The leaves are a sea, rockin’ me. I grab hold of a low-hangin’ branch and scramble to my feet.

He has Nessa on the table O She’s naked from the waist down, her dress pushed up to her chin.

In the dyin firelight, he don’t see me crawl to the camper. I should’ve had it on me all along. An ember pops in the background. Two or three ticks on a watch pass, if that, and that fast, I know what I have to do.

I pull my shotgun from its pegs and inch back down the camper’s rickety wooden steps, my mind animal keen.

He struggles with Nessa, his hand clamped over her mouth, swearin at the thing hangin limply between his legs like a tree limb struck by lightnin.

I give him no warnin’, my finger cocked and the trigger pulled by a hatred floodin’ me bigger than the creek swollen with ten spring rains.

I aim for the heart.

At the last minute, he turns toward me, and I blow a hole through his upper arm. The slug passes clear through his hide, thunkin into the hickory behind him.

“Stay down, Nessa!”

“You f*ckin’ bitch!”

He shoves Jenessa away and she crashes to the ground. I hear my voice, clear and true, betrayin’ nothin’ of my intentions. But boy, do I have me some intentions.

“Go in the camper, Jenessa, and lock the door behind you. Don’t you dare come out until I come get you myself, you hear?”

She’s a frozen heap on the ground, but I know she can hear me. I have no choice but to yell at her.

“GO! Get your skinny ass in that camper NOW!”

In that moment, it’s like I’ve prodded her with a white-hot poker. She scrambles to her feet, wailin’, but she don’t make a sound. I stand in front of them, half-naked, but I don’t feel shame. I’m a mountain lion landin’ on the back of a whitetail buck. I’m the rapids rippin the river to shreds, pretty to watch but able to kill.

I see it in his eyes, fightin to sober up quick: He thinks I’m crazy. He must have me confused with Mama. I’ve never been like Mama.

Once I hear the lock click, I turn to him.

“I’m comin’ back for your sister, bitch. For both of you. And I’ll keep comin’ back, if you catch my drift.”

He don’t think I’ll do it. My mouth slips into a crocodile smile. His stench lingers on my skin as his stickiness runs down my legs. I cock my shotgun. He runs.