Dean didn’t answer my snarky comment. I scrubbed my eyes, sighing.

“I apologize for acting like a brat. It’s been a long day.”

“I got us a place in the Hamptons for next week. Talked to Elle. You have the time off. And your manager at the children’s hospital. I’ll get there before you,” he informed me in a cold tone that cut through my nerves.

“That’s great,” I said, my mind elsewhere. There was a pause, and then.

“I’m meeting my sperm donor Friday at noon.”

My pulse was hot against my throat all of a sudden.

“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked. He shook his head.

“Thanks.” His voice melted, but not by much. “I’d rather make it as quick and painless as possible. Sue’ll send a taxi to pick you up at the end of your shift this Friday.”

My head bowed a little at his gesture. The conversation was downright painful. We sounded like two ninety-year-olds trying to make plans for someone else’s funeral. We had more fun dishing jabs at each other when we weren’t together. Why? Because of me. Because I didn’t let him know what was really going on. Because I was scared that I was going to lose him, and more importantly, that he was going to lose me.

“I love you,” I said. He looked up from his dinner. Our eyes tangled and met.

“It’s mutual, and that’s why I need you to be well, Rosie. If there’s something I should know about your health…”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Focus on your family stuff.” I smiled, patting his hand from across the table.

That night, he didn’t touch me, and I didn’t ask him to.

And when Friday came…so did our grand finale.

Eleven Years Ago

“DON’T LET OWL KILL ME, baby.”

Nina’s tears bled out of her eyes as she clutched the collar of my damp wife-beater, clinging onto me for dear life. I only wore wife-beaters when I came to visit her. It wasn’t like anyone there was going to appreciate my collection of flamboyant YSL men’s T-shirts or suede shoes. “You gotta do something about him. He’s hitting me real hard. See these marks? See ’em? He’s going to end me. Are you gonna just sit around and let it happen?”

“You should leave him.” I took off the sleeveless undershirt and tossed it over her bed. I was done weeding her huge-ass garden and was getting ready to make the three of us some dinner. “Come with me to California. Mom wouldn’t mind.”

“Helen is not your mother, Dean. I am.”

There was no point arguing, but that didn’t mean I agreed with that statement.

She always dragged me into her marital shit, every single summer without failure. I swear she thought of me as a hybrid between a bodyguard and personal assistant. Couldn’t blame her, though. I constantly tried to save her. To protect the person who compromised me.

That night, Owl came home drunk. Nothing out of the ordinary. He may not have been a junkie like Nina, but he sure as hell liked his bourbon on a hot summer night. He crawled into their bed, slurring and swearing. I heard everything from my room across the hall as I lay in bed with their neighbors’ daughter, Tiffany. She snuck into my room every night through the window. It was a one-story, barn-like house. I had bite marks all over my fists from stifling her moans to prove it, but no one asked what they were or where they came from, because no one gave a shit.

Come to think of it, no one gave a shit about anything under that roof.

Muffled shrieks and sobbing filled my ears, and I couldn’t concentrate on our make-out session, failing to elevate things from dry-hump territory.

“This crap is going to drive me nuts all night,” I groaned, brushing away some of the hair that fell on Tiff’s face so I could see her lust for me better. This time, the rusty springs on their mattress didn’t scream. Something was different. It was the first time my intuition was so strong, it burned me from the inside.

“Your aunt is a mess,” Tiffany retorted, climbing atop of me, straddling my hips with her thighs and grinding against my dick.

She didn’t know Nina was my mother. My parents made sure Nina kept her mouth shut.

I heard the smack of skin hitting skin. I heard Nina yelp in horror, and then her trying to get away, bumping into furniture, shit falling to the floor. Placing both hands on Tiffany’s waist, I moved her aside and got up.

“I’m going to check and see that everything is okay.”

“Nothing is ever okay in this place,” Tiff said, slumped on my bed. She wasn’t wrong. Everybody knew the Whittakers in this minuscule village. Knew that Nina was a drug addict with pupils like saucers and that Owl drank his own body weight every night and that they were both losing money trying to pay for the mortgage on this land every year. Guess most people prayed they’d finally have to call it quits on this little adventure, sell the property, and move the fuck away.

“Let me rephrase.” I clasped the door handle, half my body already in the hallway. “I don’t want Owl to kill Nina on my watch. Better?”

“He won’t kill her.” Tiff scooted up the bed until her back hit the wall and lit a cigarette, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right, because I’m about to make sure of it myself.” Thwack! Another hit and another yelp pierced the air from the far end of the hallway. I stalked toward their room.

“You don’t want to do that,” Tiffany called behind me, blowing clouds of smoke like she didn’t have a care in the world. “They’re insane. You’ll get yourself into trouble.”

She was right, of course, but I didn’t want to listen. Protect the strays, a voice inside my head recited. Even the person who made you one.

As soon as I walked in the room, Owl threw a vase at me. And missed. That was enough to turn my rage switch on and pull me into the situation without thinking of the consequences. I lunged at him with balled fists, punching his gut mercilessly as I crouched down, immobilizing him completely, not giving a fuck if an inner organ exploded.

“Just fucking stop it,” I demanded on a scream. “Touch my mom one more time and I’m breaking every goddamn bone in your pathetic body.”

My mom. Sweet Jesus. I needed a good dose of a reality check with a generous side portion of spine.

“You tell him, boy!” Nina yelled from her throne on the bed, straddling a pillow, and at that time, I didn’t stop to think about how she looked perfectly okay. Composed, fresh-faced, and mark-free. How she looked so turned on by all of this. And how sick the whole situation really was. “Kill him, Dean! Kill him!”

I broke his nose.

“Show him not to mess with me!”

Mounting him in a crucifix position, another elbow flew across his face. It was the first time she truly acknowledged me, and her voice didn’t reek of boredom when she spoke to me. And I took it. Swallowed the fishing rod along with the fucking bait. Thwack! Whack! Slap!

I was strong. I was athletic. I was capable of finishing his old ass in less than two minutes, it wasn’t even funny.

“Kill him for me, baby!”

“Dean! No. Stop.” I heard Tiffany’s stifled voice from the door. What the hell was she doing there? Not that I particularly cared if they knew she snuck into their house, but she could get into a shit-ton of trouble. Her father was the village’s pastor. “Get off of him. You’re going to kill him. Do you really wanna end up in jail? This guy is insane!”

I kept hitting Owl, but not with the same gusto as before, noticing that he never once tried to fight me. He just took it. And Owl never took any shit from anyone. Least of all me.

My movements slowed down before dying completely, as Tiffany’s quivering voice grew firmer and sharper.

“You really want to get arrested? Is it worth it? Are they worth it?” she pleaded, pressing her palms together. She had a point.

I straightened my spine, hearing Nina shouting in the background, “Shut up, bitch! Get the hell outta here! Do it, Dean! Do it!”

That was when I noticed the camera.

I stood up, my feet unsteady. Owl was underneath me. His face was so blood-soaked, I couldn’t make out his eyes from his nose, or even lips through all this mess. I hadn’t even noticed that my wife-beater was drenched in gore, and it wasn’t mine. I looked straight into the camera. The red dot flickered at me. Almost taunting. Nina held it in one hand and yelled at me to kill him, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Film running.

Act one – record your spawn committing a crime.

Act two – blackmail him with the videotape.

Act three – get rich and bail out on his ass again, this time starting over somewhere new.

The End.

My biological mother never took a picture of me. She never recorded a video of my first step, first word, or any birthdays. Not to mention even owned an album where you could find a picture of my face. But here she was, recording me in my plea to save her. Framing me. Pulling me down into the abyss that swallowed her chance to be a someone in this life.

“The fuck are you doing with that thing, Nina?” I asked, taking one step toward her. My voice was cold, and even though the adrenaline was sizzling in my bloodstream, I was no longer angry. She did it. After all this time, she managed to staple that dark chip onto my shoulder. I would live with it—and die with it—because of her. “You have one second to explain, and it better be good.”

“This is attempted murder,” she slurred. God, she was high. Bitch was all over the place. “I can put you in prison for a very long time for something like this, son.”

“Son?” Tiffany gasped behind me. Fuck. She was still there. Part of me wanted her to leave me alone. A bigger part wanted her to stay so she could serve as my witness. I tilted my head sideways and smiled. Because it finally dawned on me.

My mother was the devil.

My mother hated me.

My mother envied me.

And my mother was never going to stop unless she was stopped. By me.

“You really think you can pull this shit off?” I chuckled. I wanted to scare her, and by the way her face collapsed into a frown, I knew I’d succeeded. “C’mon now, Nina. You’re a goddamn mess. Don’t let my chivalry confuse you.”