41 - Own Good

41 - Own Good

James

Saying the words out loud felt like my skin was ripping apart and my body was on fire. The sound of my mother’s wail after the harsh smack kept echoing in my head. What horrified me the most was that mom was keeping it a secret for years wearing turtlenecks in summers and wearing heavy foundation when she wasn’t going anywhere.

“H-he didn’t stop,” I managed to say through my gritted teeth. Her warm hands caressed my hand as if I deserved it. “I remember punching him. There was a lot of yelling and shouting. Mom locked herself in a room when he finally left the house to get more drunk in a bar. I followed him, getting into a serious fight until my mom picked me up.”

I couldn’t meet her eyes.

I chuckled grimly. “That was my Christmas, Mia. I grabbed a bottle—fuck, I don’t even remember what I had been drinking. I was just angry. At everyone. And then Mom scolded me the entire ride. Not that piece of shit who hit her—” I swallowed when her small fingers entwined with