Maybe it'll be easier to just let her die. I can't keep fighting two wars at the same time: one with myself, the other with him. And I can't get rid of him.
I thrust myself over the chair, it hurts, but no more than walking into a piece of furniture. I can't bring myself to push past that limit, where I can inflict physical trauma. That must be a sign I am still sane. But I have to do this. I don't want this growth inside of me. I don't want that growth to become a person with a soul that will never know what it's like to have the sun kiss its face.
I thrust myself on the chair again, it's harder, but nothing more than a mediocre punch to the stomach.
I take a deep breath and collect myself.
You have to kill it. You have to.
I muster up the strength to give it another go, but the footsteps start. Hard and fast. Just like the night he came in sweaty, dirty, and angry and fucked me in the ass. My stomach burns at the memory and terror. I position the chair in front of me as some pointless barrier as he unlatches the door. He flings it open and his wild eyes jump around, the mask scrunches at the smell I have become used to.
He points at the chair.
I shake my head, stalling for an explanation as to what I am doing.
He walks up to the chair, yanks it away from me and holds it up between us, slamming it down with such force a leg cracks.
He wants me to explain the chair. Of course he's been watching me. Of course. But I can't find the words. I always thought they would be words said to Carter with joy. This is a horror.
I just keep shaking my head through tears.
“Vesp, don't fucking tell me—” he stops short, his lips pursed with rage. Even he can't bring himself to accept that this world, one that he has managed to shrink to just him and me, has instantly grown so much larger.
“I—I don't know. I don't know. I think…maybe,” I sob.
He lets go of his vice like grip on the chair's back and paces away.
“No… no…” he grumbles. “Fuck!” he punches a wall. He spins back and points an accusatory finger at me. “You little lying cunt! Saying I poisoned you. For what, Vesp? You wanna get rid of it? Be my fucking guest. In fact, I'll make sure of it,” he snaps. “You don't get to make this kind of call without me. You're just fucking lucky we're on the same page.”
He makes a beeline to the door but brakes suddenly. Without turning he speaks. “You think you're too good to have my kid? No, that's not what this is about. This is about me not being ready to share you. I've only just begun with what I'm gonna do to you.” And with that he slams the door behind him, leaving me to imagine horrifying visions of what's to come next.
“You can't live out here!” dad says to mom. I should be in bed, but I saw the lights of his car shining from far away. I thought he might be angry that we left and I wanted to hear what he would say.
“I won't let anything happen to Sam again. He's safer out here.”
“What about school? Scoot? Us!”
“You can come up on the weekends like we do anyway. Scoot will be fine. He's a strong boy. In the summer and during school breaks he can stay up here the whole time. We are still a family. I'm just doing what I have to do.”
“He's my son. I get a say in where he lives.”
“Oh come on, you've always treated him like a burden. I thought you'd be thrilled.”
“That's NOT fair, Gloria. We have different ways of doing things. I'm just trying to make him stronger. He needs it.”
“This is the way it's going to be.”
“Listen, you need to rest. You're exhausted.”
“Stop patronizing me. You all want to keep sending me to these places. I'm not crazy! I just know things, and they have you so brainwashed, you don't even see what's really happening.”
“If you were so good at protecting him, why'd he get run over on your watch?”
There is a pause. Even I feel a little sick. It's not her fault.
“How dare you!” she shouts.
“Gloria—wait—I didn't mean it.”
“You probably wished he had died. Then you could send me away. Then our families could pretend that I don't exist, that he doesn't exist. Then we wouldn't tarnish those glorious legacies.”
“Oh just stop it,” he sighs.
“I'm the only one who understands him, who knows what it's like to be different.”
“Okay, let’s say I go home now. I need you. I don't know how to get Scoot off to school in the morning, or make his dinner or… and what about Sam? He needs school.”
“Oh you mean the place he runs away from every day? Do you even listen to him? Ever? Or do you just impose your will on him?”
“Be reasonable.”
“I can home school him. You might think I am only good for folding clothes and food, but I went to Bryn Mawr.”
He sighs. “You know what? You want to live up here with him, fine. You think you can do a better job, fine. I'm sick of fighting you and him. I'm sick of your paranoia. I love you, but I can't keep doing this.”
“I love you too. This has nothing to do with that. And I hope you'll see what you've been blind to.”