Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
“For years, you hardly spoke to me. You let me get away with anything and everything. You avoided me. You know how much you meant to her. You knew how it would hurt her. And you didn’t care! You didn’t care about her and now she’s dead!”
My voice is hoarse and the words echo in my head. I didn’t care about Sam when I sent that to her. I was just angry at my mom for not believing me. I didn’t think about how it would destroy Sam. It was my fault for telling her. It’s always been my fault.
“I’m sorry!” my mother wails. “I wish I could take it back, Allison, but I can’t and I’m sorry.” Her face is bright red, and she struggles to swallow as she waits for my response. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her. I just wanted to save you.”
It’s the first time she’s ever told me she regrets it. It’s so late. Too late for what really matters but still, it’s something I desperately want to cling to.
How could I ever be saved in a world that allowed this to happen? In a world that makes a victim feel like they could have stopped it when there wasn’t a damn thing they could have done to prevent the inevitable. There’s nothing that can save me.
“Please stop hating me,” she begs, her bottom lip wobbling and her frail shoulders shaking. I always thought she was so strong. I thought I was the weak one. Maybe we’re both weak.
“I never hated you,” I tell her but I can’t be sure that it’s honest. Pain turns to hate so easily. “I wasn’t okay, though. It’s not okay. It never will be.”
“Please forgive me.”
I nod my head although I flinch when she tries to hug me, and it breaks her. I can’t help it. There’s so much more. And the truth begs me to speak it.
My voice is eerily calm and my mother just nods her head once, staring at the pot of withered violets and avoiding my gaze. Or maybe my judgment.
“Mom, I have to tell you something.”
My mother’s eyes whip to mine. Maybe because the tone of my voice has changed. From pained to haunted.
“When Grandmom died, that very week, there was an article.”
My mom wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt, but I know she’s listening.
“There was a name I recognized.” My hands clench at my side as I remember seeing it. “The name of the boy who hurt Sam.” The words hurt as they leave me and the article flashes in my memory.
“You don’t need to tell me this.” There’s hesitation in her voice like she’s scared to know.
I hear her and I know she already assumes, but she should know. I want the world to know what I did. “Just about alumni, about tradition. It wasn’t anything that should have made me angry, but it did. I was the angriest I’ve ever been.” I admit to her something I’ve never said out loud. Jack and Kevin Henderson, the proud alumni nephew. Smiling in an article.
The boy whose uncle was friends with a judge.
The boy who said she’d made him think it was what she wanted.
The boy who went back home and kissed other girls and smiled, knowing he’d get what he wanted. No matter what.
That boy never paid for what he did. He smiled at me. “Sam could never smile again, but there he was, smiling.”
“Allison?” she says, and my mother’s tone holds a warning. Like she knows what’s coming. Like she’s followed my train of thought.
“I’m not done,” I tell her and her expression changes. I force my clammy hands to unclench.
“I came here because of that article. I came here because I wanted him to do to me, what he did to Sam.”
“No,” she says and shakes her head, denying it, the puzzle pieces firmly falling into place for her. I asked for it. Her head shakes as I continue my story. She can say those words now like she did back then. It’ll be true this time.
“I wanted the world to see him for the person he was. I wanted them to know she wasn’t lying.” My words get louder as I speak. More frantic, more saddened. “She deserved some kind of justice. I came here and I sought him out on purpose.”
Her cries are all that stop me from telling her more. She covers her mouth with both hands and shakes her head.
I won’t deny it. I won’t pretend things aren’t as they seem.
“I knew what I was doing, Mom. I wanted him to hurt me. Because if he did it to me, he’d be punished. Sam would finally have some sort of justice. It wouldn’t make it right, but she’d have something.” I croak out the last word, the tears slipping down my face to my chin and falling hard on the floor beneath me. Each one feeling heavier than the last.