Page 49 of Borrowed
Toby handed me the metal, and I raised the cross like a blade.
She began to pray.
Mother didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
She just stared.At me.At the water dripping off my naked skin.At the thin stream of blood trickling from my nose.At the cross clutched tight in my hand, the cape dragging behind me like a corpse I refused to bury.
I stepped closer.
Tile groaning under bare, wet feet.
Her hands clutched her purse like it could shield her.
“No, please.Just stop this…”
She whispered my name like it might wake me from something or banish me back into it.
Toby’s voice purred beneath my ribs.
“Take her hands.Make her pray.She wanted a God?Give her one.”
I knelt in front of her.The cross settled between us.
Heavy.
Holy.
Pointless.
“You never loved me.Always hurt me.Your love is pain.”I said softly.
She flinched.Her lips moved.“I didn’t?—”
“You did.You took Toby away!Let me love you, Mother.”
Toby’s need curled in my gut.
Not rage.
That would’ve been mercy.This was colder.
Slower.
A crucifixion of her comfort.
I took her hands.Laced our fingers together.Pressed her knuckles to her chin.
“Pray with me.Pray for Toby’s forgiveness.”
She shook her head.Tears welled up.“Please…please, stop this.I can fix this!I can repent!”
I smiled.I could still feel Toby’s breath on the back of my neck.
“Let God hear you, Mother.See if he listens.Or maybe you should pray to the devil.”
