Bury Me(31)

“I’ll be good, I promise!”

I scream and claw and fight at the arms wrapped around my small body, but it’s no use. They don’t love me. They never loved me. They’re tossing me away like garbage.

“This is for your own good.”

I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.

“Please don’t make me go!”

I bite down hard on the arm around my neck, dragging me away. My teeth pierce the skin and blood fills my mouth.

The shouts of pain, curses, and yells are muffled, and I barely hear them. The warm metallic taste in my mouth fills me with hunger and rage.

I laugh when I’m roughly shoved away and smile when my body hits the ground. They stare at me in fear and horror and it makes me happy. I can feel the blood dripping down my chin and I lick it away like a drop of ice cream.

“You are a bad little girl.”

This time, I let them yank me up from the ground and pull me away. I’ll come back, and I’ll make them pay. They did this to me, and they will pay.

My eyes pop open and I have to blink a few times to make them adjust to the dark. I feel blankets around my body and a pillow under my head and realize I’m in my bed, my dresser and the open door to my bathroom coming into focus in the shadows. I lie here for a few minutes, letting myself fully wake up before I start thinking about what happened.

I was talking to Dr. Beall. He said something I didn’t like. It made me remember something, but what was it? I close my eyes and picture myself standing on the stairs, looking down at the doctor. He was telling me a story, and it was about my childhood. I remember feeling sick to my stomach, and I wanted to make him stop talking, but I couldn’t.

A name! He said a name and I hated it. Just the sound of it made me feel like someone was hurting me. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, trying to pluck the name forward, trying to keep picturing myself on those stairs but everything in my head suddenly disappears like a brick wall has slammed down, blocking me from what I need.

The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly rise and my eyes fly open, realizing I’m not alone in my dark, quiet room. I slowly roll over and turn my head to the side, my heart pounding in my chest when I see a dark figure standing next to my bed staring down at me. It makes me remember that night in the woods, lying on the muddy, wet ground and looking up to see a shadow hovering over me. Is it the same person here to finish what he or she started?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The words are soft, barely a whisper of sound, and my heart thumps loudly in my chest. I remain perfectly still in my bed as the shadow leans closer, the light from the moon shining through my window finally allowing me to make out who it is.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” my mother whispers again.

Her voice is full of anguish, and I hear her sniffle and realize she’s crying.

She doesn’t move any closer, just continues to stand in the shadows staring down at me.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I was so weak and he was so strong,” she rambles quietly. “I made a mistake, and everyone suffered. I didn’t know. You have to believe me, I didn’t know.”

I stay quiet and still, letting her unload her guilt and make her confessions, even though I have no idea what she’s rambling about.

Gazing at her in the darkness, I watch as she turns away from me, moving to the window to stare out into the night in a daze. The moonlight illuminates her profile, and I see tears fall like a river down her cheeks. I notice that she’s clutching something in her hands, holding it against her chest, but the light from the moon isn’t strong enough for me to make out what it is.

“My daughter, so beautiful and perfect and good. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have believed him. I should have seen the truth all along. It hurts so much. Oh my God, it hurts. I deserve this; I understand that now.”

So far, that’s the only statement she’s made that I can understand and agree with. The secrets, the lies, the dreams and memories I have of so much pain…she was the cause of it. She and my father both were, and they deserve to suffer as much as I have.

“I have to make this right. I have to stop the pain,” she whispers, bringing one hand up to swipe away the tears.

With her palm pressed against her cheek, the moonlight glints off the object still clutched in her other hand against her chest and I can clearly make out what it is now.

I jerk my body up and kick the covers off me, scrambling off of my bed on the opposite side of where my mother stands, moving so quickly that I stumble to the ground, my knees smacking roughly against the hardwood.