Page 124 of Hate So Deep

“Is that it?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“I wanted to know…”

What? If I ask her if she was here that night, she’s going to attack but that’s ultimately why I’m here.

“What? Jesus Lauren, just spit it the fuck out. You’re just like your father,” she mutters.

Ignoring the shards of ice pressing at my spine, I exhale slowly before saying, “Do you think it’s possible that Buck did it?”

The silence that greets me is so fucking unbearable that I shrink away while she stares at me.

I’m considering just walking away when she shrugs and says, “Does it matter now?”

“Wh-What?” I mumble.

I was totally expecting her to jump all over my ass and well, now I don’t know what to say.

“If he did, he’s fucking dead,” she spits, eyeing me like I’m the stupid one.

“Mom,” I whisper, “they think it was me. If he did it, then I need to know.Theyneed to know.”

Turning away, she stares at the pile of boxes that at one time were neatly packed against the wall and following her gaze, I take in the shit sprawled across the floor.

What is she looking for?

“Get a good lawyer,” she says, and I frown.

That’s it? What the actual fuck?

“Mom–”

“I don’t have time for this, Lauren. You’re eighteen. Figure it out.”

Basically dismissed, I watch her pull another box from the shelf and drop it to the floor. When she opens the box, I spy a frilly dress that I wore for my fifth birthday on top and smile, albeit bitterly, when she pushes it to the side and grabs for another.

Backing away, I say at the stairs, “Did you ever love me…at all?”

At first, I don’t think she’s going to answer, and I turn to the steps, pausing when she says, “I had you to keep my farce of a marriage together, Lauren. You weren’t anything but a symbol of what a bastard your father is. Remember that when he’s fucking his whore tonight.”

Right. Okay…

Blinking back my tears, I rush up the stairs and emerge into the kitchen where I backtrack to the front door, but I can’t go out there like this, assuming Dirk is still here.

Instead, I move up to the second floor and stop outside my room. It still looks like a tornado blew through and I can only imagine what the police were looking for.

If Aimee was murdered, does that mean that they’re trying to link the shit in here back to her?

I simply don’t know and that’s what scares me.

Walking to the window, I spy Dirk’s truck idling outside before sitting on the bed.

The truth is, it doesn’t matter what we say or do, my mother will not lift a finger to help me and whether she was here or not has become a moot point.

She’d rather see me fry.

However, that’s the first thing he’s going to ask me when I get in that damn truck and I’m ashamed to admit just how fucking cruel my mom is.

Dirk did insist that her vehicle was there that night though and there is another way to confirm his story.

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