beat wildly and another trickle of sweat ran down my spine. “What?”
“Where were you yesterday?”
I felt suddenly paralyzed, as if my brain and body had ceased to be connected. Did she know? Was she testing me to see if I’d lie? Or was this a drill? A means of ensuring I remembered that they could take away what little freedom I had in the blink of an eye?
Maybe I’d start with where I’d been in the morning. Not a lie, but not the entire truth, either. “I took a walk on the beach.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped.
I shook my head, looking away, gluing my eyes to my plate. “No. I really did. I went to the lake and took a walk.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you spent the entire day walking around the lake?”
“Well, no. I mean, no, ma’am.”
“I know you left town, Callie Dawn.”
I tried not to visibly flinch at the use of my first and middle name. Panic swept through me, twisting my stomach and making my palms sweat. She knew. Oh god, she knew.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dad looked up as if only just now taking an interest in the conversation.
“This is your chance to come clean,” she said. “All I’m asking for is the truth.”
“I didn’t go far. Just to Perrinville.”
“You know the rules, Callie. You left town without our permission.”
My eyes still downcast, I nodded.
“Who were you with?” Dad asked.
The lie slipped off my tongue so fast, it was as if someone else was speaking. “Some other summertimers. High school kids. A group of them were going, so I tagged along.”
“This is unacceptable,” Mom said. “What makes you think I’ll tolerate this level of disobedience? You’re not allowed to leave town, especially not with some ragtag group of miscreants.”
I nodded like a good girl. The way her voice kept rising should have had me terrified, but all I could feel was relief. She didn’t know I’d gone with Gibson. And I realized something: I’d face her at her worst to protect my friend from my parents. I’d never tell them.
“Do you hear me, Callie?” She slammed her hand on the table. “Your father and I will not be disrespected like this.”
I desperately wanted to ask how they knew I’d left town, but I knew better than to ask questions when she was like this. “Yes, ma’am.”
“This is the problem with kids these days,” she said, and I didn’t know if she was speaking to me, or my father. “You let them out of your sight and it breeds nothing but rebellion.”
She stood and clamped her hand on my arm, her grip unnaturally strong. I didn’t resist her pull as she dragged me into the kitchen, dread making me want to vomit.
Dad didn’t get up. He never watched her punish me.
“I’m doing this for your own good, Callie.” The lack of emotion in my mother’s voice was chilling. She stopped at the counter next to the sink and pulled my arm onto the cold marble, my palm facing up. “I can’t allow disobedience to fester inside you. It’ll ruin you if I let it.”
My lower lip trembled, but I swallowed back the tears. She dragged the sleeve of my sweater up to my elbow, baring my forearm. My skin was marred by a few fresh scabs on top of older scars—a crisscross pattern of horizontal slices.
When I was little, it had just been bruises. By the time I was twelve, she’d started drawing blood.
She held my arm down against the cool granite countertop. “Look at this. Look at what a horrible girl you are.”
I didn’t want to look. I hated seeing my arms. But I didn’t dare disobey.
“Pain is the price you pay.” She opened a drawer and took out a box cutter. The box cutter. “It’s the only way, Callie Dawn. You keep making me do this.”
I sucked in a quick breath and held it as she lowered the blade to my arm. The point bit into my skin and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“When will you learn?” She drew the blade across my arm, leaving a hot trail of burning pain. “When will you stop disobeying us?” Another line of fire on my skin, close to the first. “When will you stop making me do this?”
Cracking my eyes open, I tried not to flinch at the blood. It seeped from the wounds she’d inflicted, dark red droplets trailing down to the counter. Dad would come in