Page 122 of Highball Rush
“She was always cold, but it started when I was eight.” My voice was muffled in his chest. “I overheard things I shouldn’t have. Illegal things my dad was doing. She said she had to for my own good. She had to make me obedient so I’d never tell anyone about him.”
“Oh my god.”
“It got worse when I was older. She started slicing my arms. Drawing blood. She made it look like I was hurting myself. She told her friends I was troubled. Made me see a psychologist. She’d hurt me before each session to remind me not to tell them anything. She’d whisper in my ear that I was a terrible girl and if she had to, she’d cut too deep and let me bleed.”
“Fuck, Callie.” Gibson’s voice was strangled.
“And he never stopped her. He knew what she was doing to me and he didn’t stop her. Just went behind her with bleach and kept the cabinet stocked with bandages so he could hide what she did. He justified it, telling me it was necessary.”
Gibson held me in his strong arms, stroking my hair. Neither of us said anything. I felt sick and exhausted, like I had poison in my veins. The taint of it clung to me, the terrible memories so hard to face.
But just when I thought I might crumble beneath the weight of the horror threatening to crush me, I breathed in Gibson’s scent. Felt his hand slowly rubbing my back. His cheek resting against my head. I sank into him, the raw power of his love like a cleansing shower. It washed away the worst of the poison. Reminded me I wasn’t that girl anymore. That it had never been my fault.
His strength fed mine. The power I’d always had inside of me. The courage that had allowed me to live a life after being so brutally abused. I wasn’t a victim anymore. And I wasn’t going to allow my mother to continue harming me all these years later.
Closing my eyes, I wrapped my arms around Gibson’s waist and faced the truth. Owned it. And decided not to let it break me.
I pulled away, feeling shaky, but whole. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He had tears in his eyes.
“For loving me.”
He leaned his forehead against mine. “I’ll always love you. Honey, are you serious about this? Are you okay?”
“Yes. I couldn’t remember. I’d locked it all away. But I’m sure of this, Gibson. I can see it now. It was my mother who hurt me.”
The license plate still bothered me. Not that it was from Virginia. Plenty of Virginia drivers must go through this area. One of them losing a license plate—probably in an accident—wasn’t unusual. But why would it have that frame? The one my mother had used to project the image of the proud parent with an accomplished child?
“Henrietta, do you remember where you found the things in your collection?”
She nodded an enthusiastic yes.
“All of them?”
She nodded again. It was clear her collection was important to her.
“Can you please tell me where you found this?” I pointed to the license plate, afraid to touch it again.
She held up a finger, gesturing for us to wait. From a cabinet, she produced a rolled-up piece of paper. Gibson helped her spread it out on the floor. It was an old map of Bootleg Springs and the surrounding mountains.
We crowded around it and she touched her finger to the spot markedBootleg Springs.
“Did you find it in town?” Gibson asked.
She shook her head, then traced her finger along one of the roads leading out of town. Tilting her head, she studied the map for a few seconds, as if making sure. Then she stopped her trace and tapped her finger a few times.
“There?” Gibson shifted so he could look more closely. “That’s Mountain Road. That’s where my…”
Henrietta nodded, grabbing the license plate, then took down a basket. She placed the license plate on the map and covered it with rocks, sticks, and pinecones from the basket.
“It was buried when you found it,” he said.
Another nod.
Gibson stared at the license plate like it might burst into flames. “That might be why no one else did. Henrietta, when did you find this? Recently?”
She shook her head and scrunched up her face, her eyes narrowing, as if she was thinking hard. Finally, she held up both hands, splaying her fingers. Then closed them and held up two.
