Page 46

46

Raya

Ace flipped the script. He’s the one keeping secrets now.

Well, one secret.

He refuses to tell me when he’s gonna do it.

Every morning I wake up, going on two weeks now, and lie there staring at the ceiling, wondering if today’s the day Daddy’s heart stops beating. I feel around the bed, excited when Ace isn’t there, because maybe he left early to kill Daddy before work. And every day, I’m disappointed when I pull up to the house and see Faith’s car in the driveway. I wanna see an ambulance. A fire truck. Better yet, the coroner. Something that tells me the deed is done.

I’m at the house now, changing out my clothes for the week. I’m so tired, I might just sleep here tonight. I’ve been meaning to, anyway. I’ve been debating something.

A last goodbye.

I’ve been going back and forth for a while now, wondering if there’s any benefit. What some people call closure, I think. I would be doing it for me, not him, but I don’t know if it’s worth it.

I know exactly what I wanna say. The words sit hot and bitter on my tongue like venom. I want to tell him how he ruined me before I ever had a chance to become somebody worth loving. How he filled his own daughter with so much shame she couldn’t even look at her own reflection without seeing imaginary dirt smeared across her skin.

I want to tell him how much I hate men because of him, but even worse, how much I hate men for not redeeming themselves. I didn’t get to see for myself how horrible they are. He showed me that, and they proved him right . That’s worse. So much worse. I wanna tell him how he ruined my instincts and made me distrust my own body. How he made me hate everything associated with him, even benign things like that disgusting green dish soap.

I wanna tell him about Ferris.

When that boy entered the picture, my father exited stage left. He knew I would tell a boyfriend. My first love. So he slunk away like the coward he is. I was relieved. I thought I was safe. Then Ferris showed me who he was at his core.

A man.

The hitting didn’t hurt as much as what Daddy did, but it was enough. It reinforced what Daddy did. But I’d already learned the lesson. Nobody was coming to save me, so I had to save myself.

It’s ironic, though. I didn’t punish Ferris until after it was all over. There was this old movie on, A Thin Line Between Love and Hate , and there was a woman on there, not unlike me, or so I wanted to believe. Beautiful. Successful. Boss bitch. Worthy. Until a raggedy man came along to unravel her. That’s the thing about men, that’s what they do. They show up to ruin women’s lives, bending and twisting us until we break.

I kinda liked how she broke, though. Something about it really spoke to 19-year-old me. It spoke so loud, I got my own orange and dropped it into my own pillowcase, then I stared at my dirty reflection while I beat myself senseless. My skin split. My eye swelled shut. Blood splattered everywhere. But I liked what I saw in that mirror. It was ugly and scary and brilliant.

I was in control.

And revenge…it’s true what they say. It really did taste sweet.

It was so fucking perfect. Daddy came home, saw me, and flipped out. How dare another man hurt the one he hurts most?

I could see it in his eyes when the police came. He was loving playing the aggrieved father. He wanted justice, dammit, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it.

Ferris got thirteen years for felony aggravated assault. I remembered he still had my old phone, so I lied and said he robbed me, too. I remember how good it felt seeing him dragged away in handcuffs, proclaiming his innocence, while Daddy sat next to me, an unwitting pawn in the whole scheme.

I’m grateful to Ferris. He was my hot stove. And Daddy?

I left court that day knowing he was next.

That’s what I wanna tell him. I wanna see his face when he realizes he created a monster. I want him to know I manipulated him and used him. I wanna ask him how it felt to be used. But he can’t answer.

Thanks to me.

It took me a while to build up the courage to tell Aunt Tori. Honestly, the only reason I told her was so that she would help me get rid of him. I didn’t expect sympathy or even allegiance to me over her own brother, but…that’s what I got.

I can’t remember the name of the stuff she stole from the hospital, but I remember that it was an undetectable paralytic. I waited until Daddy was asleep, and then I stuck that needle in just like she told me to. I kept it simple…a fall down the stairs. But when I looked down at him, I couldn’t do it.

I’m not even gonna pretend I have a heart. I felt nothing for him. I was worried about me . What the hell was gonna happen to me with him gone? My mother was almost a thousand miles away. Tori traveled all the time.

I was scared. Of the unknown, of supporting myself…of being lonely.

It’s such weak bitch nonsense, but I couldn’t shake it. I didn’t feel safe with him, but I didn’t feel safe without him, either.

So I saved his wretched life.

I stare up at my ceiling fan. Five blades. Round and round. I have Ace, now. I finally feel safe. But I hate that I can’t trust him fully, or love him the way I want to, the way he deserves. I’ll fake it as best I can, but what if it’s not enough? The part of me that could have loved and trusted him, the soft, tender, open part, doesn’t exist anymore. She died a long time ago.

Daddy killed her.

I head downstairs, my toes curling against the old wood floor. I find Daddy where he always is, slumped in his wheelchair, staring out into the black night.

Tori never said it, but part of me believes Daddy must have done something to her, too. That’s the only way I can explain why she believed me so quickly. Never a single question or doubt from her. And I lied a lot when I was little.

It also explains her lingering fear. The whole, ‘I bet he can still talk’ nonsense. I snatched away her peace when I let him live. In a way, I owe it to her, too.

“Daddy?”

His eyes don’t move off of whatever’s so interesting on the other side of that window. I shrug and drag a chair up beside him, scraping the legs loudly across the floor.

His head turns, just slightly, his eyes finally flickering towards me. It’s quick, but I see it. A flash of fear. His throat bobs as he swallows. He wheezes. Looks away.

Yeah. He’s powerless.

There’s no more plotting. No more manipulating. He’s just a pathetic shell of a man.

The doctors called it Broca’s aphasia. Loss of speaking ability brought on by a traumatic brain injury. I was giddy at the thought of him having no use of anything below the waist, but the idea of all his thoughts being trapped inside his head was delightful . Knowing I could say whatever I wanted with no response. I had fun with that, I really did.

But it’s over, now.

I’m gonna say what I have to say, then be done with it for once and for all.

I lean in close, sickened by the smell of antiseptic wafting off of him.

“I just want you to know something,” I say softly. “We’ve never talked about it because…I guess I never wanted to relive it. And I still don’t,” I add. “I just wanna make sure you understand that I’m not one of those pathetic bitches who forgives the people who hurt them.”

His eyes widen.

“I’m not one of those weak ass women who needs closure so I can move on . I don’t wanna move on, Raymond. I wanna hate you every single day til the day I die.”

I blow out a breath. “Hating you feels so much better than forgiving you.”

His lips part like he wants to say something, but only a wheeze comes out.

“I hope you’re miserable,” I say. “I hope you dream about me when you sleep. I hope you relive me dragging you out of your bed and pushing you down the stairs. You remember that, don’t you?”

He does. I see it in his eyes.

“You probably thought I’d feel guilty. But I never did.”

I thump the arm of his wheelchair, making him jump slightly. “You’re gonna die soon, Daddy. And when you do, I’m gonna celebrate.”

I stand, smoothing my hands down my thighs like I’m wiping this all off of me.

I walk around to stand in his line of sight, blocking his view of the window. “You’re a piece of shit. Completely fucking worthless.” I smile. “If there’s a hell, you’re gonna burn in it for what you did. And I’m gonna live on, hating you and thriving and being fabulous.”

I need one last thing. One last touch.

I haul off and slap him so hard, his head rolls to the side.

“Bye, you broke down bitch.”

There.

That’s that.

Onward and upward.