Page 37 of Broken By Silence
Tracey.
She’s leaning against the brick wall near the parking lot, cigarette dangling from one hand, a cheap bottle in the other. The smell of smoke mixes with something cloyingly sweet, like rotten candy.
Her clothes hang off her thin frame, stained and rumpled, and her glazed eyes lock onto me the moment I appear.
“Well, well… look who decided to show up,” she drawls. “Scarlett, is that you?”
The name hits like a punch.
Scarlett.
A name from when I had to disappear into silence to survive him. I breathe out slowly, forcing myself to be steady. “What do you want?” My voice is tight.
Her lips curl into a slow, lazy sneer. “So, the dud speaks.”
Her eyes dart around, unfocused, glassy. She drags hard on the cigarette, flicks ash carelessly, shakes her head like it will clear her thoughts, but it doesn’t. It never did.
“You think you can just waltz through life, leave me with a mess,” she mutters, voice thick and slurred, “take what isn’t yours… and not pay for it? Ten thousand! Ten thousand dollars, and it’s gone! Where’s my money, Scarlett, huh?”
I flinch becausehermoney is the money that was paid for my pain.
Little Bird.
My stomach knots at the memory of him, but I focus, keeping my eyes on her, everything Claire taught me humming at the back of my mind.
“I didn’t take anything from you,” I say carefully.
“Don’t lie to me!” she screeches, her voice cracking. “Scarlett… you took it! Stole it! Lorenzo…”
My stomach tightens painfully at the sound of his name. Lorenzo. She sways slightly, bottle clutched tight, cigarette loose.
Her eyes glitter, manic. “He… he told me where you’d be. Said I could collect… get you for him… and he’d give me more… more money.”
I step back. “You’re lying,” My voice shakes, betraying the panic rising inside me. “Why would he send you?”
Tracey laughs, harsh and jagged, and it makes me flinch. “Lying? Me? Oh, Scarlett… don’t be naïve. You think I don’t know what he wants? You think I don’t know what I can get?” She sways, “Money, favors… whatever. You were supposed to make everything easier… but look at you. New hair. New life, and here I am cleaning upyourmess.”
I swallow, gripping my backpack strap like a lifeline. “You think I’ll let you hand me over to him willingly? You know he raped me. And because he wiped your debts clean and paid you some money, it was suddenly okay? I was no longer your daughter… I was your pawn. Someone you sacrificed for profit.”
Tracey sneers, waving the cigarette like a weapon. “Pawn?” she spits. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I never cared about you. All you ever did was whine or cry about how unfair life was. I did what I had to do. Drugs. Money. A favor here, a favor there. Twenty grand in my pocket. You were just convenient.”
I choke back the panic I can feel clawing at my throat. “I’m not yours to sell. I’m not Scarlett anymore…” My knees threaten to buckle. “I won’t go to him.Ever.”
Tracey snarls, tipping back the bottle for a sloppy swig. “You think you can say no? You’remydaughter,myticket. Don’t get clever and think you can get out of this. You owe me for raising you.” Years of neglect and cruelty are etched into every line of her thin face as she sneers at me.
I force the words out, refusing to cower to her. “I never owed you anything. Youabusedme. You sold me. I’m Lottie now. The daughter you knew? The scared one who couldn’t talk. She’s dead.”
Tracey’s face twists in disbelief. “Lottie? Scarlett? What does it matter? You’re still my daughter. You’re still the same person, and if Lorenzo wants you… Well, you’re going to be his bride.”
I stumble back, struggling to breathe, words barely forming. The years of silence I’d forced on myself to survive come roaring back.
Every syllable feels like fire, and I can’t say half of what I want. I want to scream at her, tell her the years she stole from me, the voice she tried to crush… but it comes out as a broken whisper, raw and shaking. “I’m not your daughter. No mother would treat their kid this way.”
Suddenly,a presence comes from behind me, and a sharp crack cuts through the air. Tracey’s head snaps to the side as a hard hand strikes her cheek.
She stumbles, cigarette dropping, bottle tipping. I gasp, flinching, as Claire steps forward. Every inch of her radiates control and danger. “The only good thing you’ve ever done in your pathetic little life,” Claire says the words slowly… deadly like a snake waiting to strike, “is give birth to my daughter.”
Tracey’s shock is written all over her face. She clutches her cheek, swaying, her bravado gone. “Y-you?—”
