Page 36 of Receiving His Mercy
Her mother leaned forward and something cleared in her eyes. Caren’s breath caught in her chest. Was she actually seeing her? And not someone from the past?
“You look like my mother when she was young.”
She’d never met her maternal grandmother. Grammy had been her Dad’s mom. Grammy had hated her daughter-in-law with a passion.
“She was a hateful woman. Cruel and self-centred. You would never have survived with her, you know.”
“No? I’ve actually shocked myself with what I can survive,” she murmured.
“Are you talking about your childhood? Stupid girl. You weren’t abused like your grandmother said you were. Blackmailing us into not calling the authorities when she took you. Threatening to unravel everything we’d worked for. It was a relief to get rid of you.”
She bet it was.
“So you know who I am?”
“I am not an idiot, Caren. Why have you returned? Is it for the money? Well, you’re not getting any. It’s all going to various research facilities.”
“I don’t need or want your money.”
“No, that old bat left all her money to you, didn’t she? Money that your father desperately needed for his research. Selfish. Always selfish, you were. Taking up our time. Always wanting more and more.”
“What? Like attention? Care? Food? Strangely enough you do have to continuously feed a young child or they might grow up with various medical issues.”
Both physical and mental.
Her mother scoffed. “You should thank me for everything I did for you. Not complain. Now, get my stuff. We’re leaving this place. I don’t know why I’m even here. Did you have me put here against my will?”
“You’re in a dementia unit, Mother.”
Her mother froze.
“And you can’t leave.”
Maybe it was cruel. She probably should have asked Brenna if she should tell her the truth. But her mother had always valued the truth.
Except when it got in the way of her narrative, that was.
“I’m sorry.” She winced. Why did she say that? Showing this woman any care was pointless. And could make things worse.
“You’re sorry! You’re sorry?” Her mother turned with a screech and grabbed her arm. She was surprisingly strong as she twisted Caren’s forearm, making her cry out.
Shit! That hurt!
She yanked her arm free, and was cradling it when something struck her in the side of her head, making her stumble and fall.
“Get out of here! Go! Go! You stupid girl, go!”
Oh God. What was going on? She blinked. Had she lost consciousness?
“Go! Get out of here! You should never have been born! Oh how often did I wish that you would die!”
Why had she come here? This had been a terrible idea.
She’d made a classic mistake. Never ever take your eyes off the monster in the room. She’d learned that from a young age. Seemed that twenty years away had erased that knowledge.
“Oh no! Caren, you are all right?” Brenna appeared before her.
“I’m fine. Just see to my . . . to Martha, please?”
