Page 119 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
Her head whips my way, eyes narrowing. “I beg your pardon?”
“I spent the last week at the lake. Had a nice chat with your old boyfriend, Craig Smits.”
She stiffens. “If you mean that sheriff, the man is a boor. I felt sorry for his wife and befriended her—”
“He’s dead now. Killed by the nekkers. Gail is dead, too. Killed by the horseman, because no one bothered to warn her what might happen if she struck me, even unintentionally.”
My mother goes still, and I want to say the look creeping into her eyes is horror for Gail’s death, but I know better. It’s horror on realizing I might actually know what I’m talking about.
“I’ve found the journal,” I say. “I’ve seen the drowned dead. I’ve seen the horseman. Spent a night with him standing guard. Bram. That was his name in life. But you know that, from the journal Smits gave you. You bonded me to the horseman, resurrecting the old legends, using the magic to fend off your disease. It worked, too, untilAustin died and you told Smits to shoot Dad and blame him for Austin, and then my grandfather booted you off the property. You snuck back for one more sacrifice with Smits, only it wasn’t enough. Without me staying there the whole summer, the magic faded, and soon you were in no shape to renew it… and the disease took hold.” I meet her gaze. “You killed innocent people, including my father. And for what? You still ended up here, losing your mind.”
“I don’t know what—”
“Youkilledmy father,” I say, struggling to whisper-hiss the words when I want to shout them, struggling against the tears I’ve been shedding for days now. “You had Smits murder him and even that wasn’t enough. You wrote his suicide note, having Dad take the blame for killing Austin so there’d be no doubt. You murdered him and then shredded and burned his memory. You stole my father from me in every way possible, and then you didn’t even bother to replace him. Always only half there, always with better things to do than take care of your grieving daughter.”
Her head tilts, mouth moueing in a calm way that sends shivers through me. “Are you well, Sam? You’ve been under a great deal of pressure. I know it was such a disappointment, not getting into medical school.”
I blink at her. “Not—not getting in? I got in. You needed the money for your care.”
“Now, Sam, you know that was just what we said when you didn’t get in. That you graciously let me use your tuition money, which was mine after all.”
I sputter. “Yours? Dad’s the one who started the fund, and the only one who contributed to it. As for not getting in, I still have the offers of admission.”
She sighs. “Sam, there’s no shame—”
“Here,” I snarl, fingers trembling as I hit my phone screen. “I have them right here. Two offers, which I have kept on my phone and every now and then, when things get really bad, when I’m working at midnight to make extra money or eating fucking ramen again, I open them up to remind myself that I could have done it, that maybe someday I will do it. And then I’d open a photo of you to remind me why I’mnotdoing it now.”
“Sam, you’re getting all worked up—”
I shove the phone at her. “This is the photo of you I pull up. This one, where you’re smiling and looking at me like you love me. It’s the only one I have like that. It was taken the day I said I wouldn’t go to fucking med school so you could have the fucking money.”
“Watch your language, young—”
“You aren’t even listening to me. Not hearing me. You never did. This photo”—I wag the phone—“is a lie that I clung to. The lie of a mother who never was. You ordered your lover to murder my father. You framed him for a child’s death. You told me Dad was a monster, and you wouldn’t let me talk about him. When I begged for us to move away, you said no, some bullshit about your dad and his dementia, despite the fact you barely visited him. You had friends, a good job, a support network, why would you leave Syracuse? You forced me to stay in the same goddamnedschool,where everyone knew my father was a murderer, where I was the child of a killer.”
“You loved that school. That’s what I remember, and if—”
“You made me stay with my grandfather that week, and it was hell, and Ihatedyou for it. Then I got older and I felt so guilty for the hate. You were only trying to help, right? Trying to repair the relationship? No, you threw me to him in hopes I’d soften his heart and he’d give you the money you needed.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense. You’re rewriting history, Sam—”
“Do you like it here, Mom?” I wave at the home. “Best place money could buy, even if it meant I lived in the tiniest, shittiest apartment I could find, working endless hours, letting my cat die because I couldn’t afford her care.”
“Are you really comparingmycare to your cat’s?”
“But it’s fine now. I came into a shitload of money from my grandfather. Enough to buy a swanky condo, go to med school, getallthe cats.”
Her lips tighten. “Good for you.”
“It is. I deserve it. I mean, Gail deserved it. So did Dad. But I’m finally accepting that I do, too. Still, this place…” I look at the building and wrinkle my nose. “Doyoudeserve it, Mom? That’s the real question.”
Her eyes narrow. “Samantha Jane—”
“Do you know what I think you deserve? A jail cell. But since you won’t get that, I’m giving you the next best thing. I’m giving you…” I lean toward her and smile. “Nothing.”
She blinks.
I back up. “You’re paid up here for the next three months. After that? Whoops, seems my phone number no longer works. I’m no longer living where I was. No longer working where I was. No one can find me to pay for your stay. No one can find me to pay for that trial medication. Such a damned shame.”
