later and clean everything with bleach. He wouldn’t stop her, but he always cleaned up her messes. He knew her punishments kept me silent—kept me from telling people what I knew about him.
My arm was on fire, but she held it in place. If I moved, she’d keep going. Maybe start on my other arm. But if I held very still, kept quiet like a good girl, maybe she’d stop. Maybe tonight I’d only get three.
Another slice, closer to the inside of my elbow. I shuddered, choking back a sob. That one was deep. She hated it when I cried, so I held it in, desperate for this to be over.
“You’re a stupid child,” she said. “Anyone else would have learned by now. I hate that you force me to do this, Callie. Apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I can’t hear you. Apologize for your disobedience.”
“I’m sorry I disobeyed. I won’t do it again. I’ll be good, I promise.”
She let go and I fumbled for a paper towel. Dad would burn it later. I held it over my latest wounds and clutched my arm to my chest, my eyes on the floor.
My heart raced. Was she finished? Would she let me go? I risked a look. She stood with the razor still in her hand, staring at me, her eyes cold and dead.
“Give me your other arm.”
I didn’t move. For the first time in my life, I didn’t jump to do what she said. Pain and fear swirled like a tempest and a voice in my head screamed at me to obey. Be a good girl. If I did what she said, maybe it would be over soon.
“Callie Dawn.”
Something inside me snapped. I could feel it break, the cracks snaking out like broken glass.
“No.”
She stared at me for a beat, shock plain on her face. “Excuse me?”
Never in my life had I refused my mother. But now that I had—now that I’d uttered that one forbidden word—I felt heat rise from deep inside. I was sick of living in fear. Sick of subjecting myself to her pointless torture. Because no matter how hard she’d tried, she’d never broken me. She’d never convinced me she was right.
She was insane.
“I said no.” I held my wounded arm tight against my chest. “You’re not going to hurt me again.”
She shook her head, her dead eyes never leaving mine. “Just this once, I will repeat myself. Give me your other arm.”
“No.”
Her jaw clenched and one eye twitched. My heart beat furiously, the urge to run almost overwhelming.
Without a word, she surged forward and backhanded me across the face. Pain erupted across my cheek, the shock of it crushing the air from my lungs. I turned, trying to shield myself from her next attack.
“Mom, stop.”
A heartbeat later, her next blow came. Something hard cracked across my shoulder. A book, maybe. One of the heavy cookbooks she kept on the counter. I ducked to avoid her, but she hit me again and again, each smack harder than the last. I could feel the bruises already blooming across my back.
“Stop,” I screamed.
I risked a glance at her and realized my mistake, but it was too late. She swung the book right at my face and it smashed into my nose with an audible crunch.
The pain was blinding but somehow I didn’t crumple to the floor. Staying hunched over so she couldn’t get to my face again, I bolted from the kitchen.
Steady footsteps followed me, her pace unhurried. Before I could reach the front door, she grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me backward.
I screamed, kicking and flailing. Fighting back for the first time in my life. How was she so freakishly strong?
And why was she so silent?
I shrieked, trying to duck away. She let go of my hair and I covered my head. She didn’t say a word. Twisting, I hit back, scoring an open-handed slap to her face. She staggered back a step. Rage burned in her eyes, searing away the deadness. Sheer hatred twisted her features.
“How dare you,” she snarled.
Her attack was so fast, I barely saw it coming. I tried to turn away, but she lashed out and the box cutter sliced my face. I screamed, clutching my cheek, the pain searing.
“You will be a good girl. I will make you be good.”
“Imogen.” Dad’s voice was hard, and my mother stopped, her hand with the box cutter raised. “Enough.”
I crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. What had happened? He never stopped her.