Slowly, I slide off the couch, teeth gritted, and crawl over to the end table where my phone rests. It takes a few attempts, but once I get it in my hand, I just stare at it.
Who the hell am I supposed to call?
There’s Amelia… but I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want to tell her about what Ryan did. I couldn’t call Ryan’s parents—not when it’s their own son that left me like this.
I have no one. Unless, I do something stupid and call someone I really don’t want to.
I put the phone to my ear. I’m past caring at this point.
“Officer Brady.”
“Hi, this is River. I… can you give me Detective Fitzgerald’s number please? I’d like to talk to him about what happened.”
“Ma’am, I can take the repor—”
“I’d like to talk to Detective Fitzgerald, please.”
Nine
River
PAST
10 YEARS OLD
MY FAVORITE STUFFED ANIMAL, Rocky, is stuffed in my mouth. The dirty fur tastes sour on my tongue from being in so many filthy places. But I need him. I need to bite down on something to keep myself from sobbing. When I cry, it hurts. I think Billy broke my ribs again. He said as long as my lungs aren’t punctured, I would be fine.
How does he know they’re not?
My ankle is sprained from when I tried to run away from him. It rolled because Billy grabbed me by the hair and pulled me back unexpectedly. My ankle gave out, along with the rest of me. My body, soul, and spirit… they’re all giving up on me.
Billy said if I leave the room, then I’ll be punished again.
My mom is in the next room over, her moaning and screaming a mixture of pleasure and pain. Billy does the same things to me that he does to her, but I’ve never had the urge to make the noises she does. It doesn’t feel good. Billy said it’s supposed to, but all it does is hurt. It always hurts.
With him, and with the other men Mom brings home. When they’re done with her, they come to my room at night. They hurt me. They leave bruises and scratches, and even bite marks. The last guy left a scar from him biting my thigh so hard.
“Billy, please!” Mom shouts, the thin walls doing nothing to mask her terror. Flesh hitting flesh follows her desperate pleas, along with a loud grunt. Billy always makes that noise when he’s finished. I look forward to that noise because then he leaves me alone.
Billy pokes his head in the door a few minutes later, shirtless with his pants unbuttoned still. A cigarette is hanging out of his mouth, the acrid smell filtering in my room. The walls are yellow from all the smoke. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the color white in my life. Not when anything pure is tainted in Shallow Hill.
“You still crying?” he asks, a brow raised as he sucks on his cigarette. Rocky is still in my mouth, but I don’t have the urge to cry anymore. Now, I just want to curl in a ball and hide.
I pull Rocky out of my mouth and toss him to the side, the once-blue dinosaur rolling across the dirty floor.
“No,” I mumble. The tears haven’t dried on my cheeks yet. Billy doesn’t like it when I lie, but he hates it more when I show weakness.
“You better not be,” he warns. “Your mother’s pussy is looser than the Grand fucking Canyon. But I don’t have that problem with you.”
I learned what that term means a couple years ago. Billy loves to say the word when he’s making me dirty. He said it’s the best he ever had, but I don’t want to be the best. I want to be worse than Mom. If I was bigger than the ocean, maybe he wouldn’t want me.
“I’m not crying,” I say again. His threat was clear. He’d come dirty me up again if I keep cryi
ng. He always says that he’ll give me a reason to cry when I show weakness. And when he does, I want to die.
Billy walks in the room, crouches down to eye level and hands me the cigarette. I take it. If I don’t, he’ll put it out on my skin. Pride shines in his cold, dead eyes when I bring the stick to my mouth and inhale the smoke. I used to cough all the time when Billy made me smoke these, but I don’t anymore. I got better at it.
He urges to me to suck on it again. I do and get a little buzz. The pain doesn’t go away, but it seems a little more tolerable now.