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He shifted his weight to the side so he could discard the condom, and he hoped she wouldn’t use the opportunity to bolt. But she lay there on her back, staring up at the ceiling as tears etched a crooked path on her face.
She looked tired. Fragile. And scared.
He reached a tentative hand to brush away the moisture on her cheek. “Will you talk to me? Do you trust me enough to tell me what’s hurt you so badly?”
For a long moment she lay there, unmoving, quiet, as if gathering herself. To run? Or to confide in him? He couldn’t say with any authority which of the two she was leaning toward. Maybe she didn’t know herself.
When she finally did stir, he tensed, and then she rolled slightly until she faced him with haunted eyes. He wanted to do a fist pump. She’d made her decision and she was still with him. Still next to him. But he remained still, waiting for the revelation that was buried deep.
“My real name is Carly Winters. And you were right. I was born and raised in the South. Covington County, Mississippi.”
She waited a moment as if grappling with whether to go on. He willed himself not to stir, not to react. He didn’t want to do anything to change her mind.
“My father—my real father—left my mother when I was a baby. For a long time it was just me and her. We were dirt-poor but I was happy. She loved me and did her best. I adored her. She encouraged me to sing. In the evenings, I’d sing to her while she did dishes. She said she never got tired of hearing her baby’s voice. She always swore I’d be a star.”
She drew in a deep breath. “When I was nine, she met Da
“I can remember thinking that it was the start of a great new life for us. Suddenly we didn’t have to worry about where our next meal would come from. She no longer had to bring home leftovers from the café, and for the first time ever, she bought me new clothes from the rack in a store instead of getting them from Goodwill or neighbors who gave us their kids’ castoffs.
“But it didn’t last,” she said faintly. “Da
Dread curled in Co
“Da
“Jesus,” Co
Lyric went on as if he hadn’t spoken. Her eyes were glassy and had a distant look, as if she were unaware that he was even here anymore. She was lost in her past. Reliving each and every moment.
“Da
Co
“He’d come into my bedroom at night while my mom was working, and he’d rape me. And the entire time he’d whisper how much he loved me and how beautiful I was and what a good girl I was.”
Co
“If you’re wondering why I didn’t tell my mom, I did. It took me a while to work up the courage. I waited until he had gone out and then I told her and I begged her for us to leave before he got back. She was devastated. I’d never seen her cry. Not through us being poor and hungry. Not when he hit her. She never cried until I told her what he’d done.”
Unable to keep from touching her and offering comfort, Co
To his surprise, she scooted closer, as if seeking the comfort of his body. She curled into his arm and laid her head against his shoulder. Maybe she could no longer face him and it was easier to let loose the poison of her past when they weren’t staring eye to eye.
He wrapped his arms around her and entwined their legs, wanting no separation between them. Never once would he want her to feel like she was somehow less for what was done to her. He’d hold her forever if that was what it took.
“I thought we’d just go. But I underestimated my mom’s anger. She confronted Da
“Good for her,” he said softly.
Lyric shook her head. “No. It was the wrong thing to do. We should have just gone. Left and never looked back. She wanted justice. I just wanted us safe. He flew into a rage. I think he forgot I was even there. I hid in the cabinet under the sink while he beat her to death.”
She made a sound like a wounded animal. The moan tore from her throat and her fingers dug into his skin. “There was blood. So much blood. I remember peering through the crack in the cabinet door, so terrified I could do nothing. I did nothing. I hid like a coward while my mother died. I let him kill her because I was afraid he’d turn on me. Or worse, he’d keep me and abuse me. So I sat there and listened to her screams.”
Co
“Worse than the screams and the sounds of him hitting my mother was the silence afterward. So silent you could have heard a whisper. I stayed under the sink for three days. When they finally found me, my mom had been dead for over seventy-two hours, and I hid there and never did anything to help her.”
“Sweet mother of God,” Co
“I just know that I did nothing and I traded my life for hers. I could have run. I could have gone to a neighbor’s. I could have done something,” she finished with a sob. “Those three days were the worst of my life. I was alone in that house while she lay dead just feet away. Even after I knew he was gone, I couldn’t make myself leave my hiding place. I’ve never liked being alone since. It terrifies me.”
Co
“My testimony put him in prison for life. Because I was a minor and was so traumatized by the event, they sealed the records and I was born again, so to speak. New name. New life. No one knew of my past. Not even my string of foster parents. They only knew I had been sexually abused and my mother had died. I chose Lyric to honor my mother’s vision of my future. I was determined to become a singer for her.”