Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,70

sat on the front steps with Audrey and Sara as they waited for Chris to arrive. The hole left in the entertainment center unnerved her. The thought that someone had stolen from their home made it feel less like the safe haven it had always been.

Chris’ Land Rover sped onto their street, and he jumped out as he threw it into park.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Someone stole our Playstation,” Sara said miserably.

“Did the house get broken into?” he asked Abby.

“It must have. I’d feel better if you looked around in there. Were you at the gym? Did I interrupt your workout?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Are your Mom and Justin home?”

“No, he’s at school and she was gone when we got here,” Abby said.

“You guys stay out here, I’ll be right back.”

Abby made small talk with the girls as they waited, hoping Chris wouldn’t encounter anyone in the house. She wondered if she should have called the police instead. He had been gone nearly 20 minutes when he came back out the front door.

“Is everything okay?’ she asked anxiously.

“Yeah, everything’s good. I checked everywhere. You guys can go back in.”

He reached for Abby’s arm as she moved to follow Audrey and Sara.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Was anything else missing? Your jewelry?”

“The only thing I have that’s worth anything is the ring you bought me, and I never take it off. Did we get robbed, Chris? Did you find something?”

“No, there was no sign of forced entry. And they would have taken stuff that’s still in there.”

“Someone must have just wanted electronics, because that’s all that’s gone,” Abby said.

“Anything else come up missing lately? Money?”

Abby blanched as she remembered the $300.

“Yes,” she whispered. Chris shook his head, looking disgusted.

“I know you don’t want to believe this, Abby, but it’s your Mom.”

Though she stared at the newscaster on the television screen, Abby’s mind was elsewhere. It was after midnight, but she couldn’t sleep. Audrey and Sara had both been scared at bedtime, worried that someone would come back into the house while they slept.

Chris had told her to take them to his apartment when he went to work, where they might feel safer. But she had declined, knowing that she needed to stay home. The conversation she was waiting on had been a long time coming.

Eager for a distraction, she grabbed her phone, typing out a message to Chris.

I miss you and wish you were here. Thanks for being here earlier. – xo

He didn’t write back immediately, so she knew he must be busy. She wished she could doze off, but her mind was racing too quickly. It wasn’t just anger she was feeling, but bitterness. Betrayal. And fear. The fear of her mother that had been with her since childhood. Kathy had never been violent because she didn’t have to be. She’d always cut Abby so deeply with her remarks that Abby ended up cowering as though she had been struck.

Sometimes she’d wished her mother would have hit her instead. The sting of a bruise would heal eventually, but the biting words Kathy spewed ran through Abby’s mind long after they’d been spoken.

As she heard keys rattling near the front door, she sat up quickly, suddenly feeling like a young child again. She steeled herself for what was to come.

“Mom,” she said flatly as Kathy pushed the door closed behind her.

“Hi,” Kathy muttered. She walked across the living room toward the bedroom, and Abby jumped up from the chair.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” she demanded.

“About what?”

“You know what. You took the girls’ Playstation. Where is it?”

“I did not,” Kathy said dismissively, turning to leave the room.

“I know you did! And I know you stole money from me, too.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“I’m calling movers tomorrow to come get your things in a week. You need to make other living arrangements before then.”

Abby’s midsection trembled as her mother turned to glare at her.

“You ungrateful bitch!” she said, seething. “I have no other place to go, and I’m sick. You want to throw your own mother on the street?”’

Abby jumped from her chair, fury driving away all her anxiety.

“What have you ever given me to be grateful for?” she yelled. “You’re a terrible mother!”

“You’re just a spoiled brat. Always have been.”

“A spoiled brat?” Abby stared at her mother, incredulous. “You can’t be serious! You’re a cold, mean, deadbeat drug addict, and still all I’ve ever wanted was your love. I’ve done everything I can think of to get it. I’m supporting