Page 58 of Our Daughter's Bones

Melody was unrecognizable. Her skin was porcelain white, devoid of any blemish or puffiness. Mackenzie trailed her fingers up her mother’s smooth arms. The purple bruises had dissolved.

Healthy and beautiful. Unlike roadkill.

She wondered if it was a mirage. The mind did that; it morphed reality. She rubbed her mother’s soft curly hair. The light reflected on the black strands dancing in between her fingers.

“How?”

“Makeup, sweetheart.” She pinched Mackenzie’s chin. “You can always paint over your reality.”

“Why?”

“So that no one thinks about hurting you.”

A door swung open and closed downstairs. Melody shot up from the bed, trembling and fixing her hair. Her lips quivered. She scrambled to put on her shoes. “Your father just left. I have to get him back. I don’t want the neighbors to see him like this!”

“I’ll help!”

“Absolutely not. Stay here!” Melody bolted out of the room.

Mackenzie ran after her but was too slow. She felt the air swish and slam into her as her mother swung the door shut. She gasped when she heard the door click.

She banged her fists against the door. She screamed for her mother to let her out. She knew what was coming. Soon enough, she heard it. The loud curses that had polluted their home. The sounds of fists beating skin. Furniture toppling and glass shattering.

Mackenzie felt rage build up like never before. Brick by brick, her innocence crumbled. She curled her fists tight and imagined the door was her father. She banged and pounded and punched and thumped it. Every hit sent a zing of cold fulfillment through her.

“No! Don’t touch her! No!” she cried till her scream felt like shards of glass inside her throat.

Eventually, she gave up. Her chest rose and fell. Dried blood was splattered over the door—the remnants of her anger. She fell on the floor, staring at her swollen hands. One day, her rage would kill someone.

“Anyone we should be focusing on?” Nick’s voice snapped Mackenzie back to the present. He nodded towards the names she’d been working through.

“This guy is the top of my list.” She leaned back so Nick could read her screen. “We should pay him a visit.”

“No time like the present,” Nick replied. “I’ll drive.”

Thirty

The car went over a bump in the road, and Mackenzie felt the contents of her stomach shift. She looked out the window to the blurring green trees, fading into the dusk. The car’s wiper blades were working furiously, but she could still barely see the road ahead.

She felt like she was inside a live painting, with colors swarming around her. Everything was out of focus. Nothing felt tangible.

She clutched her throat and swallowed the vomit.

“Motion sickness?” Nick said from her side.

“Yup.”

“There’s some Gravol in the glove box.”

She fished it out and gulped the large pill dry. “Thanks.”

It hit her that Nick never had motion sickness. But he always kept medicine in his car for her. She glanced at him.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked without looking away from the road.

“I was thinking.”

“About what?”