Then, a second look of pity followed, more prominent this time. He removed her hand and slid around her slowly. He stopped in the entrance of the tunnel, his back turned to her.
“Why were you here? Really?” she asked.
“Maybe I was waiting for you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Don’t I?”
“I doubt it.”
He seemed to sadden at the sight of her face. “It’s good here. It’s one of the few places to get properly clean. You should stay. Just for a little while.”
“You weren’t hiding from something then?”
“Nothing to hide from here. Never will be. It’s safe.”
Skye narrowed her brow. She tucked her hair behind her ear and grazed her kissed lips with her finger. She wanted to say something, wanted to keep him around just a little while longer, but she was without the proper questions that would hold him in his spot.
“Weren’t you looking for someone?”
“Right. Seen him around?”
“Can’t say I have.” He smiled and turned.
“Where do you stay?” asked Skye.
He hesitated for a moment. “Other side of the rocks. Over the hills.”
After he was out of sight, she pressed her hand against her lips again.
The walk back to the duplex was a daze. Her worry about Ashton had lessened. He’ll be back, waiting in bed probably. At least she could still get hers yet tonight. She could think of Sebastian during and it would feel so damn good.
When she arrived at home, he was nowhere to be found— no sign of him having come home, not a thing out of place. Not knowing what to do with herself, she sat on the edge of the bed, feeling weighted by fatigue. She flopped down into the bed for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. Just a quick break and I’ll get help from Erin and Trevor. Five minutes. She was out cold in five seconds.
All she could hear was screaming. Skye yelled at her mom and dad to stop, but they didn’t hear her. They didn’t even see her standing there in the small messy kitchen, plates, pots, and pans everywhere. She kept staring at the sink filled with dirty gray water and floating pieces of lettuce. Skye was worried one of those pots would be used as a weapon again.
Their screams were overwhelming, each high note piercing her ears and heart. Make it stop! Make it stop! It felt like her heart was outside of her chest, bleeding all over the dated flooring with floral patterns, the cheap tile cracked in many places. She was going to die if they wouldn’t hear her, if they wouldn’t stop. She watched in slow motion as her cruel bastard of a father raised his hand and closed it into a fist. She knew it was going to land. It already had before, and many times before that. Still voiceless, she watched as his large knuckles met her soft cheek, crushing her head to the side, sending her to the floor.
She didn’t help her mother. Skye ran to her bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the bed and looked down at a drawing she had been working on for quite some time. The sketch was that of a ballerina dancing on water. She was meticulous with the shading around the pointed toe on the surface of the water, making sure the rippling pattern around her was as realistic as dancing on water could be.
A whimpering sound drew her out of her room. It was coming from her mom’s bedroom, but he was gone to work now or at the bar, so she was in the clear to check on her mother. She cracked the door open, fearing what she would find. Her mom was upright in bed, staring at her through the cracked door. “Come on.”
Skye stopped. She hadn’t heard that sweet voice in a long time. “Well come on. It’s all right. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
She opened the door and stepped in. Her mother’s face was terribly damaged. Why wasn’t I there to stop it? I should have done something. Anything.
Her eye was swollen shut and her nose appeared to be broken, dried blood still stained around her mouth as she hadn’t cleaned up yet.
“How’s the drawing coming?” asked her mom.
Her mother looked angry with her. She couldn’t reply.
“Well, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” her mother said sarcastically.
Finally, through great effort, Skye spoke. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. I feel fine. It’s like anything else, sweetie. You do something enough times, you get better at it. Taking punches, it’s like breathing for me.”
She lit a cigarette and took in a big drag. “Yeah, after a while if I’m in the right kind of mood, there’s a satisfaction to it. On the chin is better than the eyes though. On the eyes always hurts the way it should.”
Skye could feel the tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Do me a favor, yeah? Don’t marry an asshole. And if you do, don’t have no kids with him.”
Skye flinched. “You don’t mean that.”
“No? Here’s what I mean then. Every time you decide to ditch school, your mommy dearest takes a punch. You smoke pot with your friends, a punch, you get caught screwing some boy in school, a punch, you get suspended from school, a punch… I’m all punch-drunk, babe.”
Skye wanted to drop to her knees and hold herself. “I told you we should leave.” Skye had suggested it several times, but never with enough insurgence as they needed to make a strong stance against her father. But he would have come after them. He would have found them. He was maybe a drunk, but he was also a determined man. Apathy wasn’t the problem.
Her mom took another drag from the cigarette, ash falling, burning like her words. “I know what you said. Thought about it a lot… There’s no leaving. No living. Do me a favor and graduate sooner than later. That’ll make things easier.”
Tears continued, dripping down to the cold floor on her bare feet. They had missed their heating bill. Words from her mother’s lips didn’t ring true, they felt off. She was always a sweet woman that would never hurt her. Not ever. She was supposed to be her friend.
Her mother’s stare turned colder, her voice quiet and steady. “This will be you. The writing’s on the wall. May as well get in on the action. He’d be happy to have you. Maybe after he kills me, you can step up to the plate. Yeah, that’d be just fine.”
Skye awoke in her clothing on the bed where she had fallen. She was covered in sweat, a swirl of nausea cursing her stomach.
The day Skye left, she was never the same. It didn’t happen at once, but with time, she pushed her mother, the only person she’d ever love, out of her mind.
She cried for a minute and then checked the rooms for Ashton. He was still gone. What time is it?
Chapter Thirteen - Erin
The smell of coffee hovered in the air, bringing her no pleasure. She tried to travel to her default setting; in her garden back in New York, but her mind was underwater, trapped with that body. His skin was so white. The texture would have been sponge-like to the touch. The fiery grip around her ankle and the fireworks that shot up her leg had been so intense.
She stood and grabbed her cup of Joe. She swallowed too much coffee, scalding the back of her throat just as there was a knock on the door.
Skye’s eyes were bloodshot, the fake-bake tan nearly gone from her face. She was panicked. “Ashton didn’t come back last night?”
“What? I assumed you had found him. Why didn’t you get us?”
“I thought he’d come back. I figured—I don’t know, I just thought he went for a walk, got turned around, and would come back.”
“It’s going to be okay, Skye.” Erin rubbed her shoulder. Trevor came out of the bedroom looking half asleep still. He yawned with a sleepy grin on his face, and then realized how upset Skye was.