Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 179189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 896(@200wpm)___ 717(@250wpm)___ 597(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 896(@200wpm)___ 717(@250wpm)___ 597(@300wpm)
I look at the bruises on her face and say, “I don’t think those were caused by falling down the stairs.”
She raises her brows. “It’s possible. We don’t know. She didn’t say much other than to call you.”
“Okay.” I purse my lips. “What about my mom’s boyfriend?”
“Ahhh … Yes, we called him too. He hasn’t said a lot other than to say she fell down the stairs.”
“Right.” I frown.
“I think he’s getting some coffee. If you want some too, you can get it down the hall on the left.” She smiles.
“No thanks,” I say. “I just wanna stay with my mom for a second. If that’s okay.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you two to it. Oh, she might wake up soon. The morphine dosage has been reduced, so she won’t feel so drowsy all the time.”
“Thank you,” I say as she leaves the room.
I take a deep breath and then caress my mom’s cheek. “Oh, Mom … what did he do to you?”
Her mouth twitches and a soft moan leaves her throat. I smile, blinking away the tears. “Shh… don’t talk yet.”
“Oh, so you’re here too. Couldn’t get here sooner?”
The moment I hear his ugly voice, I turn around and growl, “This is all your fault.”
“What? You not being here?” He snorts. “That’s all on you, girl.”
“Don’t talk to me. You’ve said enough,” I say. “I don’t want you anywhere near my mom or me.”
“Well, tough luck, kid, because this is my woman.”
“She is not yours. She’s not an object you own. She’s a human being, and I know she didn’t just fall down the stairs either.”
He makes a face. “What? You’re not suggesting I did it? Bullshit.”
My mom suddenly squints her eyes, and I immediately focus on her again. “Mom!” I grab her hand and squeeze. “I’m here.”
“Hailey?” Her hand lifts and she wipes her forehead. “God, I’m glad you’re here.” She’s still slurring, but I can understand her just fine.
“And I’m not going anywhere either,” I say, squeezing her hand tighter.
“I had such a bad dream. And I feel so sleepy. Like I’ve been asleep for days.”
“That’s the drugs,” I say, chuckling a little.
“Yeah, and because she’s a lazy twat.”
“Shut up!” I say, turning around. “Just shut up.”
Infuriated, he slams his coffee cup down on the table and says, “How dare you speak to me like that?”
“Stop …” my mom mutters.
“No, you need to learn how to behave.”
“And you need to learn to keep your hands off my mom,” I growl.
“What did you say?” His brows are on six o’clock, and his fists are balled.
“You heard me; I know this was your doing.”
“If she weren't such a clumsy woman, she wouldn’t trip down the stairs all the time. Don’t you blame this on me, kid; you weren’t even there for her. You were too busy screwing other boys at that stupid college of yours where you’re not learning one damn thing.”
“Please … don’t fight …” my mom utters.
Tears well in my eyes. “You know nothing about me. Or my mom. I don’t give a damn what you say—I know you hit her. Those bruises on her face didn’t happen because she ‘fell down the stairs.’” I make quotation marks with my fingers.
“Hailey …” my mom says.
“No, Mom, I’m done faking it. I’m done lying. You should be too. Look at what he did to you.”
I direct my attention back to him. “You’re the only reason our whole world went to shit. You ruined everything. Me. My mom. You’re a bastard.”
“That’s it!”
He lifts his fist and makes a threatening move.
Right then, a nurse enters the room, and he quickly lowers his arm and pretends he was stretching and yawning. Then he leaves the room again, eyeballing the nurse with some kind of non-verbal threat. The nurse just stands there and furrows her brows at him, turning her head to look at him as he stomps off.
“Quite a piece of work,” she says. “Excuse me.”
“I know, right?” I say.
“Hailey …” My mom coughs.
“I hate him.” I grab her hand and look her deep in the eyes. “Mom, please …”
“I’m sorry, Hailey,” she says, her eyes turning watery.
I rub my lips together, trying to prevent the tears on my side. “I know.”
“No, you don’t. I’m really sorry I put you in this position again.”
“I’m okay, Mom, really. I am. Worry about yourself.”
She leans in to brush her thumb across my cheeks. “Such a beautiful, smart girl. You’ve got your father’s genes, not mine.”
I smile. “And your caring and forgiving nature,” I say.
“Hailey …” She pauses. “I lied.”
I close my eyes and squeeze her hand again. “I know, Mom. It’s okay.”
I know exactly what she lied about.
Not just these bruises, but all her other bruises and broken bones too.
All of it.
It was all a lie.
She starts to cry. “I’m sorry … When he pushed me, he left me there. He just left me for dead. I managed to crawl to the phone and call for help.”