Page 82 of King of Cruelty

“And then, of course, since he was the only one bringing in the money, he was the only one who could control it. She wasn’t even allowed to know the passwords to the bank accounts,” I flung. “He made her beg, plead, and justify every fucking cent he gave her.

“But now,” I cried, “you’re askingwhy didn’t she leave him? Why didn’t she ask for help?Well, who was she supposed to go to for help, Dawson? He alienated her from all of her friends and her family. The bastard wouldn’t even give her the moneyto buy a plane ticket home for her mother’s funeral. And when her uncle tried to send her the money himself, our dear blessed dad broke her phone, all the computers in the house, and... he bought that gun.”

She gaped at me, eyes wide.

“And he pointed at me in my crib and told her that if she ever left him, he’d kill me, Kenzie, her, and then himself.”

“That—that—” Lyla shook, eyes watering. “That’s not—”

“It’s the same threat he’d make to her countless times, even after she gave up hope of ever leaving. He just had to keep her in constant fear and terror for the lives of herself and her daughters. Because she believed him. She believed that if she ever took us and ran, he’d hunt us down and kill us all.” I pinned her through, the silence so heavy even Laurel stopped cooing and watched us solemnly. “So she endured it all... until he turned his abuse on Kenzie.”

My own eyes started stinging. “My psycho mother, as you call her, told all of this to the jury and the judge, but that wasn’t enough for them, and they sentenced her to twenty years in jail. Two decades of her life stolen. Her kids taken from her. Everyone picking apart her life and her actions, even though they have no idea what it was like to live through what she did. And on top of that, she’s never even held her granddaughter.

“You wanted someone to be punished and to suffer for the death of that evil bastard, Dawson, well, what do you call what my mother’s been through?” I barked. “Because any sane person would call that punishment. Anyone would say that she is suffering!

“But that’s not good enough for you. You can’t get to my mom, and you can’t make my dad answer for the things he’s done, so all that rage, and pain, and grief, and confusion got blasted at Kenzie, and you never even gave her the chance to know why.”

Her lips trembled, tears running down her face.

I sighed, rocking back to finish putting on Laurel’s diaper. “Look, I know it seems like I came here to yell at you and make you feel bad, but I really didn’t. I came here... to welcome you into our family.”

“Wha—what?” she croaked.

“You’re my sister. You’re Laurel’s aunt.” I picked up Laurel and plopped her on Lyla’s lap.

The woman squawked like I threw a koala bear at her, claws first.

“We’re here. We’re free. We’re sisters. So let’s stop letting ghosts drive us apart.”

“I—I don’t—” She goggled at Laurel, eyes wide at her babbling like the baby was dropping f-bombs. “I never said that I believe you. Idon’tbelieve you! If my father was anything like the man you’re talking about, I would know. He put me to bed every night. I saw him every weekend. He—

“Take her back,” she cried, holding Laurel out to me. “I don’t know anything about babies, and she’s not my niece—no matter how many times you say it.”

“She is your niece, and you do believe me.” I got up and moved to the armchair, leaving her to hold a giggling Laurel who was kicking and bouncing like this was a fun game. “You believe me because even though you have so many terrible things to say about my mother... I bet yours didn’t.”

Lyla tensed, her lips pressing tightly shut.

“Did your mother say she was crazy? That my fatherwould never do those things? Or even that she misses him and wished that he was still here?”

Deep, piercing silence echoed from her half of the living room.

“I know your mom got married. What’s your stepdad like? Is he anything like the guy who used to take you to the movies,water parks, and for ice cream, but never let you pick the movie, said that only little sluts wear two-piece bathing suits, and made you eat the same ice cream as him, even though you hated pistachio?”

Silence.

“And if you ever dared to argue with him, he’d cut the trip short, throw you in the car, and spend the whole ride berating you for being a rude, ungrateful brat until you promised through your tear- and snot-covered mouth to never have an opinion of your own again?

“That guy, Dawson. Is that the guy you don’t believe was abusively controlling?”

She didn’t utter a word.

“I know you believe me,” I said, voice firm. “I know you believe your mother, and I know you believe mine. What’s really bothering you is that you believe us all... and you love him anyway.”

Lyla flinched, pulling Laurel in reflexively.

The baby automatically laid her head on her shoulder.

“You think that makes you a bad person, but it doesn’t. It really doesn’t,” I said, seeing the look on her face. “Love isn’t something that we can control. After all... my mother loved a bad man too.

---