Page 39 of Blood Ties

Kai

I stand beside the ladder to the attic, staring without seeing. My hands haven’t stopped shaking since I spoke to Riley, and there’s a dull buzzing in the back of my mind.

My head is spinning. So much has happened. That girl in the kitchen, Knox comforting me, Riley telling me she loves me. I’m feeling too many things at once to make any sense of it. The word love sits like a weight on my shoulders. I think of Riley’s lips against mine, Knox’s arms around me.

But most of all, I think about Momma.

I told Riley the truth. Momma isn’t like her. She isn’t trapped here.

I take a deep breath and try to steady myself. It has to be the truth. There’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed that over all the years of being here. She would have told me she was trapped. Asked for my help. She has to know I’d do that, for her.

But she hasn’t been coherent since I was a kid. What could I have done?

I swallow with a dry click, and force one of my shaking hands to grip the ladder. I haul myself up, one bar at a time, and knock on the door at the top.

“It’s me,” I say, and enter.

Momma is propped up on her pillow, staring listlessly out the window as usual. I stand in the doorway and study her across the room, my pulse pounding. I know Momma’s not well. But it’s not because... it can’t be because...

I can’t even bring myself to finish the thought. She’s just sick.

The buzzing in my ears won’t go away.

I slowly cross the room and crouch beside her bed.

“Hey, Momma,” I say, staring at her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been up here much lately...”

Her eyes are glassy, distant. She doesn’t even know I’m here.

I thought I had gotten used to the pain of her absence. But the hurt feels fresh today. It throbs in my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut, startled by the intensity of the pain.

God, that buzzing sound is still in my ears, and it’s getting annoying. It seems — louder now, clearer almost. Like the sound of rain tapping against the roof, even though the sky outside of Momma’s window is blue.

I try to ignore it, to focus on Momma. “If... if you can... I need you to tell me something,” I croak out.

It’s hard to find the words I want to say, but her silence gives me all the time in the world.

“I just... I just need you to tell me, so I know for sure...” I bite my lip, force it out in a rush.

“Do you... want to be here, in this house?” There’s no change in her expression.

Not even a flicker, a moment’s eye contact. “Are you trapped here, Momma?”

I reach for her hand, lying listless on the bed at her side, but something stops me at the last moment. I study her limp hands, her wrists. She’s not shackled, but when I look closely, I can see faint white scars, barely visible against her pale skin. Almost like, years ago, she was...

No, no, no.

My shoulders slump. It feels like something inside of me is cracking.

“Can you just tell me?” I ask, barely a whisper. “Please? I won’t tell Dad, I won’t tell Knox, I won’t tell anyone, I just... I wanna know. I can... I can get you out of here, you know that? I’ll do it. You just need to tell me.”

My lower lip starts to wobble, my breath coming out shaky. The sound of nonexistent rain drowns out the drum of my own heartbeat. My mind is teetering between disbelief and suspicion, sorrow and anger.

“Just say it,” I plead. “Just say something. Anything. Momma...”

My voice cracks. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it’s not enough to keep in the tears. A sob tears out of my throat, and I sink to my knees on the floorboards, pressing my face against the side of the bed.

Because it doesn’t matter what the truth is. Momma is gone. She’s been gone for a long time.

Something brushes against the top of my head, featherlight.

I jerk in surprise before settling my cheek against Momma’s fragile, paperwhite hand.

“Shh,” she says, barely a whisper.

Or maybe that’s the rain. The sound of it grows louder in my ears. Louder and louder until it’s a throbbing pain.

And a memory hits me like a sack of bricks.

*

I WAKE UP TO DARKNESS , the sound of rain, and a soft hand against my cheek.

I blink until my eyes adjust enough for me to make out the silhouette of Momma leaning over me.

She presses her finger to her lips, and I nod.

I know this game, the one where we have to be quiet.

So I keep my mouth shut as she lifts me out of bed and into her arms.

The house is quiet around us as Momma carries me down the ladder. She pauses in the kitchen to listen, but there’s nothing to hear but the rain.

I don’t make a peep as she descends the stairs, tip-toes through the living room, and unlocks the front door. But when she steps onto the porch I frown, small hands fisting in her shirt as I squint at the downpour beyond the house.

“Momma? Where are we going?”

“We’re going on a trip, baby,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head.

A trip? It sounds scary. I’ve never left the farm before. “Where?”

“Somewhere good, I promise. You’re going to like it.”

“But... but...” I peer up at her, trying to understand. “What about...”

“Momma?”

She goes rigid. After a moment she turns, slowly, to see Knox standing in the open doorway, barefoot in his ratty pajamas.

Momma lets out a long, slow breath. There’s a weird look on her face. “Hi, baby,” she whispers.

His frown only deepens. “Where are you going?”

She takes another breath, and sinks down to one knee so she can look him in the eye. “I’m taking your brother on a trip, Knox.”

He blinks at her. “A trip... outside?”

He’s the one who always talks about wanting to go outside. He shows me pictures of trees and mountains and something called the ocean. He says one day we’re going to see it together.

“That’s right,” Momma says.

“Can I come?”

She hesitates. Worries her lip between her teeth before saying, very quietly, “No, baby. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

His eyes go wide and shiny. “But why?” His lower lip wobbles. “Is it because I threw the book this morning? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it...”

“No, sweetie, you haven’t done anything wrong.

” Her voice falters. “But... but you’re too.

.. I’m not s-strong enough to carry — ” Momma’s voice gets shaky in a way that’s even more confusing than her words, and she presses the back of her hand to her mouth for a second.

“You’ve always been my brave boy. I’m going to come back to get you very soon. Okay? I promise.”

Knox gazes at her. He must be angry, I think. He’s always wanted to leave the farm so badly. He must be so jealous that I’ll get to see it first. His face turns red, and I know he’s going to scream and yell and throw things like he does when he gets really mad.

But instead he gulps like he’s choking something down, and nods. “Okay, Momma.”

She smiles. I can feel her trembling. “That’s my good boy.”

I don’t understand. I stare at Knox as Momma kisses him on the cheek and stands up. I turn to keep looking over her shoulder, so only I see when tears start to fall down his cheeks.

It feels bad. It feels wrong, makes my stomach hurt.

“No,” I say, tugging at Momma’s shirt. “I don’t want to go.”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. You’re going to like it, I promise.”

I shake my head, tears welling up in my own eyes as I think again of Knox watching us go. “I don’t want to. I want Knox to come! I don’t want to go without him!”

She rocks me, tries to shush me through her own tears. “Shh,” she says. “Shh, don’t cry, my sweet baby.”

“Knox,” I wail. “Knox!”

A light clicks on upstairs.

*

I JERK BACK TO THE present with a gasp. More memories surface from the depths of my mind, flashes of things I didn’t know I remembered. Momma running through the rain with me in her arms. Mud rushing up to meet us when she fell. Dad’s silhouette against a streak of lightning in the sky, and...

I shake my head, stare up at Momma.

“You tried to get away,” I say, my eyebrows knotting together. “With me.”

And I ruined it. I know I was just a kid, and I didn’t understand what was going on, but... it was my fault. I woke Dad up, and he caught her. He must have been so angry...

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

But Momma is gone, somewhere deep inside of her head, far away from this place. The only escape she ever got — because of me. Because I couldn’t leave Knox behind.

My stomach churns.

Another piece of memory hits, this one jagged and biting. Shrieking in the rain while Dad dragged Momma back to the house by the hair.

“You ain’t never gonna try to run from me again.”

Then another sound, a distant roar, a deep mechanical revving. The chainsaw.

My chest constricts. I don’t remember what happened after that. Maybe I didn’t see, or maybe I forced myself to forget. But that’s the last time I remember her leaving the house.

The last time she even left this bed.

Cold dread sloshes in my stomach. My hands shake as I reach for the blanket that covers Momma. I grab it, hesitate — and then yank it back, quick and hard.

And I stare at the crude stumps where her legs used to be.