Page 100 of Hexed
The list goes on and on.
But none of that,noneof it compares to how I feel right now, staring at my father—the man I still have nightmares about—while he stands across from me in the living room of theAquata.
I need to go back outside and hurt her.
Beat her like my dad used to beat my mom, just so she can experience afractionof hardship in her life.
She can play an innocent all she wants, but there’s no way she doesn’t realize how this affects me. She might not know the gritty details of my past, but she knows enough, and she did this on purpose. To be cruel, the same as she’s always been.
ButI’mnot the same girl.
Staring at my father on my birthday is like being in a time vortex, snapped up and spun around until I’m thrown back into my past.
“Come out, come out wherever you are.” My momma’s voice is a singsong from the living room. I cover my mouth, stifling the giggle wanting to burst free.
I’m cramped in a cupboard to the right of the kitchen sink, and it’s so hot and stuffy, the strands of my brown hair stick to the sides of my face.
“Er-sahhhh,” Momma hums. “Where’s my Yrsa, baby?”
My foot cramps and I jerk, my toes hitting the wooden siding.
Dang it, I just know that means she’s gonna hear me.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, the door swings open, my momma’s beautiful white grin spreading across her face as she leans back on her heels, her hands already shooting forward to tickle my sides. “Gotcha!”
“Momma!” I screech. “You’re gonna make me hit my head!”
A car door slams out front, and suddenly the mood changes, Momma’s eyes growing wary as she looks to the side door off the long and narrow kitchen.
“Who’s that?” I whisper,but the sinking in my heart gives me the answer before she does.
It’s my daddy…at least, that’s what I’msupposedto call him. He’s never really around enough to make it feel like the real thing. I barely recognize the man because of how often he’s missing, and even when he is here, the way he likes to hurt Momma makes me not want to know him at all.
I just wish she’d feel the same.
Momma pops up from where she was crouching in front of me and peers out of the small square window over the sink, a sharp inhale of breath following whatever she sees.
That sinking feeling in my chest drops to my feet.
If he’s back, then that means I’m about to lose these moments with her. Again.
She never really loves me out loud for long, even though she promises each time will be different.
It never is.
If my daddy is a drug, then my momma is the addict, and she’ll bleed for him until her veins run dry, even if it leaves me all alone.
Her lips thin, her face draining of color. That’s a weird reaction. No matter how much he hurts her, she’s always happy to see him.
“Is it Daddy?” I ask, unsure now.
She glances at me, chewing on her lip, and then she gives a sharp nod and crouches back down until she’s looking me in the eye. “I want you to do something for me, okay? I want you to hide in here again, in this very spot, until I come and get you. No matter how long it takes. Can you do that?”
I scrunch my brows. “But you already know where I am.”
“I do, but…” She leans in close. “Your daddy doesn’t, and I just know he’s gonna want to find you. It’s your birthday, after all.”
She’s always doing things like that, trying to make him seem like a better person, a better parent, than he is. But just because I’m a kid doesn’t mean that I’m dumb. I don’t believe her for a second.
