Stealing water. Mom grabbed my upper arm and yanked me out of the tub so fast that I had to cling to her to keep from stumbling. I found my footing and stood there dripping as she blocked the exit with her body. She was seething, her face a shade of red I’d never seen.
“Don’t think you’re smarter than me,” she said, jabbing her finger at me.
“I don’t.”
I was starting to shiver. I needed to figure out how I could get around her and out the door. Maybe if I apologized.
“I’m sick and tired of both you kids wasting water. You seem to think I’m made of money. Well, listen and listen good—I’m not.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
Truth was, I wasn’t sorry at all. I was mad as a teapot. Water consumption never came up in Sophia’s house. If we needed to wash dishes or take a shower or flush the toilet, we didn’t think twice. But at home I fretted over water all the time, and just the sight of it made my stomach knot up worrying about its preciousness. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to take more than my share. My mind scrabbled around trying to figure out how to calm her down and get a towel.
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Can I have a towel?”
Mom narrowed her eyes. “I’m not finished with you.”
I didn’t know if she had just given me a reprieve, or a threat. But I didn’t wait to find out. I lunged for the towel rack and ripped down a towel, then scooted behind her and out the door before she had time to react. I ran for the bedroom hoping Matthew was there, because two of us stood a better chance against one.
Before my mind had time to register what was happening, I felt her weight land like a mattress on my back. I pitched forward and landed on the carpet with such force that the wind knocked out of me. I felt time stop as I searched for my breath again, and then felt myself being rolled like a rag doll onto my back, and then Mom pinning me underneath her like a wrestler. Her body pressed on me like a bag of sand, and I gasped for air.
“All you kids do is take, take, take! After all I’ve done for you! I’ve had to do this all on my own, but do I ever get a thank you? Nooooooooooo!”
My heart thumped against her inner thigh as I slapped at her arms and tried to buck, but I was trapped. Adrenaline coursed through me, and I thrashed as hard as I could, but I couldn’t budge her. We were like two cats pawing at one another as she tried to grasp my flailing arms. Finally she caught my wrists and wrenched my arms to my chest, where she held them folded. Her lips tightened in fury and she shouted over me, at a spot on the wall.
“You have no idea the hell I lived with!” Her nonsensical outburst shocked me into submission, and I stopped struggling, uncertain of what was happening. She seemed to be talking to someone I couldn’t see.
“Nobody liked me. Nobody EVER liked me!”
A quiet terror filled my lungs. Mom was somewhere else in her mind, in an altered state where I couldn’t reach her. The voice that came out of her was familiar, but much younger, how I imagined she sounded as a small girl. It seemed possible that she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing. And this was most frightening of all, because what if she was capable of doing far, far worse to me? I begged for release, but my words bounced off her, unheard. Her anguish distilled into a one-word drumbeat.
“Nobody! Nobody! Nobody!”
She buried her hands in my wet hair, curled her fingers around two hanks of it and pulled. An instant, white pain of a thousand needles pricked my scalp. She yanked my head side to side, and we were both screeching now, unintelligible sounds like trapped animals wailing for rescue. I felt my follicles rip away, and from the corner of my eye I saw my hair slip from her fingers and flutter to the ground. I squirmed to get loose, but she shifted her weight slightly to block my escape. I had no way out.
I went limp, giving in to whatever was coming next. I closed my eyes and saw myself sinking toward the bottom of a dark ocean, floating farther and