Chapter 20

We were driving for what felt like forever. I knew it had only been a few minutes though. My mind was racing with thoughts that made me cringe. What if I can't defend myself? What if I just run the minute we stop? I knew she was very determined to get that beating in before I leave for good. So much so that I think she would even result in going back and waking Luke to come after me just because she wouldn't want me gone before a thorough beating. No, I couldn't just run. I either had to let her conflict that pain unto me or I would have to fight back and somehow delay her from being able to get back to Luke. Could I do that? Would I be able to? Because if I decide to fight her back, I couldn't just punch her and run. I would have to really hurt her, make it so she couldn't walk or was in too much pain at the moment. Hell, if I did that it may end up killing her.

I took deep, even breaths, trying to calm down and clear my head. The best option would be to just let her beat me; it would guarantee me freedom (if you can call it that). But it was instinct for me to want to fight back this time. Yes, when she use to beat me before, I would just take it because I became use to it and soon learned if I fight back, it results in more pain. This was not going to be a usual beating. No, this was going to be pure torture. And I don't know if I can just let her do that.

Silence surrounded us in the car as well as the cover of a blackened night. A beautiful darkness that always calmed me, always a shield. When I'm surrounded by darkness, I feel like I'm safe. Like it's my shield and I turn invisible from this world. As if nobody can see me and I just don't exist. It was a relief to me. Even now as that blackness that covered me in the car crept into my spiraling thoughts.

I realized something at that moment in the dark car. The only light that was casting upon us was from the street lights we passed; those were quick to be gone as we moved closer to the edge of town, out in the country more. I kept looking out the window, not wanting to show any sign of me opening my bag. I slid my fingers lightly up my bag, feeling for the opening that thankfully wasn't zipped all the way closed. Feeling the opening, I judged that I could do it. I managed to slowly slide three fingers in my bag before I couldn't with the zipper being there. But it was just enough to silently dig under a few layers of clothes to feel the cold silver of the knife. Glancing to Clare, I noticed that her eyes were still ahead on the path the car lights illuminated. Watching her out of the corner of my eye, I slowly and carefully moved the knife closer to the opening, turning it with my fingers so it would fit through.

By the time I was able to slip it out of the bag, I was shaking slightly in fear. I carefully slid the knife up the sleeve of my hoodie, the blade first. I shivered with the cool material sliding up and along the hair on my arms. After it was fully hidden, with the handle just barely clasped in my hand, I looked out the window and found nothing but the darkness and shadows of trees. My mind was racing still and I couldn't come to a conclusion on what I was going to do for sure. Of course, silence only could last so long between her and I before one of us would have to break it. Clare did first.

"Nervous, my daughter?"

My heart jumped and stomach twisted when I glanced to her. That glance turned into a scowl. "If you are trying to scare me, it's not going to work," I lied. "You are pathetic and talk a big show. You are also incredibly stupid. Always thinking about yourself and never the consequences of your selfish acts." I scoffed, hoping to distract her as I pushed my sleeve down a little, just to make sure that the entire knife was out of sight.

Even in the small light coming through the windshield, I was able to see her eyebrows dip slightly in confusion. Yeah, she always was a dumb bitch when it came to things that really counted. She figured my words meant nothing; that I was just saying shit to make her mad from the shake of her head and an annoyed sigh.

"Whatever."

I scoffed. She was a dumb bitch. She never did think of the consequences of some of her actions. Like killing Emily. She could have always given her to a different family. Hell, there were a lot of things she could have done but the quickest solution was just to kill her. After that deed though, she never stopped being nervous. Clare never admitted it but I think she regretted those actions. Not because of love or guilt; because she was and still is worried she will get caught somehow after all this time.

Now, she was doing the same. She wasn't thinking. What a surprise. "Fine, ignore me," I said lightly. "You'll find out soon enough." Looking out the window, I found that with every minute passing, I was shaking a little more. I instinctively clutched at the handle of the knife, tense.

"What are you talking about?" She hissed me the question and I looked to her. My words got to her. Wow. I was surprised she was even able to understand my words since she is incapable of understanding anything else with her small brain.

I don't care if she was born a brunette. She was always a blonde at heart.

I scoffed. "What do you think is going to happen when you beat me and let me go? What's going to happen once I'm gone?"

She slowed down once she got to a four-way stop. She then proceeded to turn right, heading towards nothing it seemed. It was so dark out here in the country. That could be a good thing and a bad thing. First, it was nice to know that if I'm able to knock her out somehow or slow her down, I could easily then run away and know there would be a small chance of her catching me after that. Even if she was pissed enough to go home and wake Luke to come after me, he wouldn't be able to find me way out here. He would be too late anyways; I would be in the next town by then.

That was the good part (that is, if I even decide to fight Clare). The bad part: we were in the country; it's dark and there is nothing by trees and corn fields around. If I do make a move on Clare, she will fight back. When she does though, I still know it won't be pretty. Hell, there was an even better chance of her killing me if I go at her. I wouldn't be surprised if she just loses her temper or becomes desperate and ends up killing me. There was a good chance since we are so out of the way, she might feel more comfortable with doing that instead.

"What's going to happen?" She scoffed like it was obvious. "How about some fucking peace for once! You being gone, I don't need to worry about you ruining my life anymore with Luke."

Taking deep breaths, I spoke, wanting to at least make her little plan lose it's confidence with the truth I was handing her. "Or lets try the exact opposite. With you being Luke's wife, you should know more about him than I do. So it's pretty pathetic when I know that Luke isn't going to be fine and dandy by tomorrow morning like you think."

Hearing my words, something finally registered in her head and I saw, in the light of the moon shining through, her hands grip the wheel harder, her lips bunching up in a scowl. I finally got some pleasure out of this shitty night. I was watching her happiness slip slightly away.

When she remained silent, letting me know that she knew I was right, I spoke again. "Wow, good job mother! You finally figured out what Luke's reaction will be when I'm gone. Don't feel bad; it just took you way to long to realize who your husband is where it should have been common sense - like it was to me. Luke's going to be upset. At you and himself. You think things are going to go back to the way they were before I came back? I don't. He's going to try his hardest to find me just because that's the kind of guy he is. And when he doesn't, and when he tries to go back to his normal life with you, he will still know the truth. He will still look at you with different eyes as he is now. He might have said he forgives you but why don't you try reading a little something called body language and see just how close he feels to y--"

My words were cut off by a gasp that was ripped from my throat upon the hard movement. Clare had slammed on the brakes, swerving off and onto the shoulder of the road. My eyes were wide and I knew this was it. I pushed her over and I grasped the knife tighter when she shut the engine off.

While she got out and made her way to the passenger side, the decisions I had to make right now were flashing over in my mind. What am I going to do? She's going to beat me or I fight and maybe get killed for it. The best option would be to endure the terrible torture she was desperate to inflict on me. That way, I knew I would still live and escape, never to see her again. But the best option isn't always the easiest when I refuse to be weak.

My door flung open in an instant and I looked at her, face full of furry and hate as well as excitement. Excitement that she could finally release her anger on me. I on the other hand wasn't as excited. That was an understatement really. It was more accurate to say I was ready to shit my pants from fear and anger.

She pulled me up and out of the car, grabbing my bag as she did so. I watched as she tossed my bag onto the ground for later when I would be leaving. After the torture I was going to go through right now. She smirked as she stood there, standing in front of me.

Before the thought could once again enter my mind, she spoke against it. "Don't even try to run. I believe you recall how good of an arm your mommy had with a knife," she said in a way that sounded like a question.

I moaned. Of course I did.... I would never forget that. She was a great aim. When I was little - around six or seven if I had to guess - she would make me stand up against a wooden fence that use to be in the backyard. Whenever she would make me stand there, tears would immediately come to my eyes since I was so young. With me against the fence, she would be standing several feet in front of me, facing me, with at least a dozen knives at her feet, two always ready in her hands.

"Please mom...." I would cry. Even after so many times, I would always hope that for once, she would listen and just not do it. That of course was the mind of a innocent child. Not knowing any better and hoping that maybe she would hear me. Maybe she would see I was so scared that she wouldn't do this terrible game that left me mentally scarred.

"Oh, well I am sorry sweetheart. But you know you deserve this," she said, sounding as if she really was sorry. She looked up at me from where she was stroking the blade with her finger. "You do know that you deserve this, don't you?"

Crying, my back begging and pushing to somehow go even further back into the wood of the fence, I nodded. It was my fault. For what, I did not know. All that was ever drilled into my brain was that it was my fault. Hell, maybe everything was my fault. At that age, I really didn't know and still don't today.

She faced me, taking a breath and smiling an evil grin, loving this game she liked to play with me. The only game a mother and daughter ever played in our world. One of constant pain with anticipation, one of absolute fear.

In a deeper voice, her eyes burning in mine, she spoke. "Tell me you love your mommy, my little angel," she said.

I was use to this. This was a game she loved to play maybe every few weeks and continued to play until I understood that it was just a trick to scare me. But that time wasn't then. I didn't know any better at that age and always thought she was going to hit me, that I deserved to have those evil silver tongues penetrate my skin.

"I l-l-love you mom," I said in a shaky voice, already getting ready to cringe. "Please stop mom. I love you, I love you mommy so you can stop it please mom," I said in a hard cry that burned my throat and heart.

A sour look came over her face and she yelled at me. "What did I tell you about lying? Little girls that lie go to hell!" She spoke in anger.

"I'm n-not-- not lying!" I sobbed. She wouldn't listen though.

She took a step back, raising one of her arms, cranking it back before she stepped closer and threw the knife at me at such a fast speed. When she did that, my breath was held in hope that it didn't hit me. By the time my shaking body was ready to accept enough time had passed, I opened my eyes and found the knife lodged into the fence, an inch away from my arm. An inch, I saw when looking down.

My tears never would stop. This wasn't the first time this occurred. Too many timees before and too many after. Though I was use to it in my schedule every so often, the feeling of terror was something I never could become use to.

I was so relieved she missed, as if that were a sign from god. At that age, I didn't know she had a perfect aim and was only scaring me. No, at that age, it was hammered in my head that this was my punishment. And that she was always aiming to hit me except she never did. That she had a bad aim and that's why she always missed.

"Aw, shoot," she would whine purposefully to show she didn't meant to miss hitting me or want to miss. "One of these days, I'll hit you," she said as if confident. She picked up another knife and I knew she was going to throw two at a time now.

"Please mommy I don't want to d-d-d-die! I want to be a good girl! M-M-Mommy! I LOVE YOU MOMMY!" I screamed and cried as I felt both of my little hands curled around each of my two pigtails in my hair. I would always grasp on tight to my two pigtails in my hair. As if that were all that was left to hold onto. In my life, that was all there really was to hold onto. Just myself.

"Mom, please stop, I'm sorry a-and I love you mommy!" I tried again and unfortunately, though I can't be positive, I think I did love her to some extent. No matter who your mother is, you have a bond to her if she raises you. And she raised me, even if so poorly. I spent all my time with her. No matter if those times were spent with me in tears and her saying cruel things to me, they were still spent with her and she was the only world I came to know.

"You can't be a good girl," she said, snorting. Before I even saw it coming, she lifted her arms back before whipping them forward at the same time, throwing both knives. By the time I saw what she was doing, I cringed. But more than that, I did something I souldn't have. I felt my feet slide a few feet away on instinct, not wanting her to hit me. However, I didn't know at that time that she was just aiming around me not at me. Those few steps could have killed me if I moved in the path the knives were coming.

I heard the fence take the impact of the two knives, one just a split second hitting before the other. I froze and saw the two knives were very close as they protruded from where they were stuck in the wood. One of the blades had pinned my pant leg to the fence; that's how close it got. The other was on my other side, an inch from my neck. For the first time, I was just breathing hard without crying. I could feel my eyes were huge.

I looked to my mother and saw the disappointment on her face that I flinched. I felt my lips quivering again and soon enough I was sobbing again. She sighed, finishing what she said before. "You can't be a good girl because you were born rotten. You don't belong in this world. You are what adults and big kids call 'a fuck up'. And that can never be changed."

But why were I those words? A fuck up?

Why did mommy hate me?

What did I do wrong?

Why was I bad?

What did I do to make mommy mad at me?

I love mom. Why doesn't she love me?

Why did she play these games?

Why does she always try to kill me with those knives?

Constant thoughts of mine, questions, wonders as a child. Even now, as I stood in the terrible world of reality, I still didn't have those answers.