His skin crawled from the screams. Finally, footsteps came out to the kitchen.
“You said I could get some if I did that,” his mother whined. “I did what you wanted. Give it to me.”
“Greedy bitch. I’ll say when.”
Something crashed against the wall. “The night’s young. We got more to do.”
“Just a little hit. Please.”
Low laughter. “Be a good girl and you’ll get what you need. Where’s that boy of yours?”
“At a friend’s.”
“Is he in that fucking closet again? Let’s get him out to party.”
Vincent’s heart beat wildly but he remained completely still. Fists pounded on the door. The lock rattled but held. “Hey, boy, come out and play. I got some stuff for you.”
“Told you he’s not here. Leave him alone, you have me.”
A few more minutes of harassing, pounding, and threats. Then a clatter of needles hitting the table. “Ticktock, little boy. One day you’re gonna be a man and get your ass out here to help your mother. You hear me, boy?”
His mother said something he couldn’t make out. Then there was blessed quiet as they shot up and went back into the bedroom. The noises started up again.
Vincent concentrated on the music, rocked back and forth, and wished he was dead.
He was eleven years old.
Eleven
GEN SHOT OUT of bed.
The door banged repeatedly in a nonstop rhythm, getting more and more demanding. What if they were reporters? She glanced over at the empty bed. Where was Wolfe? Had he left for the store? What should she do?
Gen hunkered down, crawled to the living room, and peeked out the side window.
Kate, Kennedy, and Arilyn peered back at her.
“Babe, it’s us, let us in!”
She fumbled with the latch, flung open the door, and was engulfed in a tight circle of hugs.
Unfortunately, the numbness and walls she’d built up over the past few days crashed down with a tumble.
She burst into tears.
Gen let herself go, crying and shaking as they moved her to the couch. Kate held her tight, Arilyn patted her knee and whispered soothing words, and Kennedy crashed around the kitchen, cursing like a banshee.
“Asshole prickface! Putting on some type of wimpy show for the reporters to look good! I knew something was up, Gen. I never trusted him. Anyone with teeth that white is trouble.” The bang of a kettle and the rushing of water echoed in the air. “Jumping out the church window was the best damn move you’ve ever made.”
Gen dragged in a tearful breath. “But I left him at the altar. He loved me, and I’m so messed up, I panicked and now everybody hates me and I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”
Kate gripped her shoulders. Her voice was strong and calmed the rising panic. “Yes, you do. You just didn’t want to face it. It’s time to look at the truth, honey. You didn’t want to marry David. I think you wanted to leave for a long time.”
“You’ve changed over the past six months,” Arilyn said. “We all saw it but didn’t know what to do. You avoided your friends, you looked stressed all the time, and you lost your joy.”
Kennedy slammed down a mug on the counter. “Bastard asshat. I had a feeling he was working you behind the scenes. Every time we had plans, you’d call with an excuse regarding David. You started to disappear. And you were so jumpy, I’m so pissed I didn’t talk to you sooner. I should’ve known he was an abuser.”
The past year drifted before her, and the inner voice she kept tamped down rose to a shrill scream. Yes. Remember how he’d tell you what to wear. How to act. How to please him. Remember the cold look in his eye when he was displeased? The temper just barely kept under control if something didn’t go his way?
“He never hit me.” Her voice came out weak. Gen realized it was her last defense. At night, when she thought of leaving, when she thought of how her life was so entangled with his, and her fear of him grew, she’d tell herself that. As if it was a prize. He never hit her. Wasn’t that a good thing? Didn’t that prove that she was crazy to believe he was slowly taking over her soul, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a shell of who she used to be?
Arilyn smiled. Her strawberry-red hair glowed around her face, giving her the look of an angel. “Of course he didn’t. That would have given you a reason to leave. Rarely do abusers start with the physical. It’s a slow build of control, a subtle shift of power as they isolate you from your support system, until there’s no one left.”
The truth slammed through her. A gasp wrenched her lips. My God, how many times had she wished he would just hit her? Arilyn was right. She would’ve left without a glance back. Clean. Instead, he cloaked manipulation with love until she didn’t know what was real anymore.
Kennedy brought her the mug of tea. She clasped her fingers around the heat and took a sip of the scalding liquid. Blessed warmth coated her belly. “Did he make you nervous? Make you question your decisions? Check your phone and messages and all communications? If you did something wrong, did he have ways to punish you?”
Kennedy knelt on the floor in front of her, gazing up at her with knowing amber eyes. Again, the flashbacks hit her like stinging pebbles. The time she’d burned dinner when his friend was over. He’d laughed and chided her gently at the time, but when they were alone, he refused to speak to her for two nights. She never screwed up cooking again.