Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 120995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
The officer glanced at me then Pim and finally nodded reluctantly and stepped from the room. The clang of the closing door reverberated around us.
A few endless seconds ticked by as Sonja Blythe moved toward us and sat on the opposite side of the table.
There were no explosive hugs.
No watery tears.
Nothing to signal these two women had any foundation of physical affection.
The only sign of history was a gloss in Pim’s gaze and a tremble in her hands.
Sonja Blythe absentmindedly rubbed her wrists where the cuffs had been, never taking her eyes off her daughter.
Pim vibrated beside me, but it wasn’t from fear or sadness. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Rage perhaps? Forgiveness?
I had no idea what I was doing here or how to shatter the sudden unbearable tension in the room.
Her mother half-smiled as if—just like me—she didn’t know the correct etiquette on how to begin.
Finally, she whispered, “Tasmin, Min, Minnie Mouse.” Tears welled in her eyes only to retreat as she cleared her throat. “My how I’ve missed you.”
Pim’s breath hitched then she nodded frantically as if she lost control of her ability to respond in half-measures. She stopped herself just as quick, clearing her throat just like her mother. “I-I heard what you did.” Her voice was stilted and impersonal as if she struggled to return to an era of child after hating her mother for so long. “I owe you the greatest apology.”
Neither woman looked at me.
As it should be.
I was here for Pim, but in terms of input, I wanted to remain invisible.
Crossing my arms, I leaned back in the chair, further extracting myself from the conversation. I had no fucking clue how this would go. I would be there if Pim needed me but I wouldn’t dishonour her by stepping in before she asked.
“You owe me nothing.” Her mother curled her upper lip with disdain. “It was me. All me.”
Pim stiffened, toxic questions spilling from her lips. “You mean…you did have something to do with my abduction?”
Sonja Blythe’s eyes widened in horror. “No! What? No, not at all. I only meant I wasn’t a mother to you.” Her voice lowered. “Min, you have no idea how often I wish I could go back and do it all over again. Be a better mother. When I thought you were gone…well, I wanted to kill everyone I’d ever put before you. Every appointment I took when I should’ve taken you to school. Every session I booked when I should’ve taken you to dance practice.”
Her shoulders caved as her face turned haggard with confession. “I was a teacher, coach, and headmistress when I should’ve just been your mum. I dragged you out to functions and forced you to act as my eyes and ears and tell me what you saw. You didn’t want to be there—not for the long hours I commanded. I knew that. I knew keeping you out late ruined your concentration at school the next day. I knew teaching you how to see things people wanted to keep hidden would make you an outcast at school, yet I did it anyway.”
Pim’s posture softened a little, still unable to accept. “So you killed to make up for your mistakes? You did it to ease your conscience?”
Her mother’s eyes glassed again. “You know…I’ve asked myself that same question. I really studied myself. I searched and searched to see if I was as heartless as I felt. But I can safely say, on my life and yours, I killed because that bastard stole you. I killed because no one else had a right to you but me. I killed because you were all I had left of your father, and I screwed up. I killed because he hurt my baby almost as much as I’d hurt her and stolen any chance for me to make it right.”
Silence fell like rain, sizzling on the table-top while wounds were licked and truths were accepted.
“You didn’t screw up,” Pim finally muttered. “We were just different people.”
“Other daughters are different from their mothers, and they didn’t get sold or hurt.” Sonja swiped at her eyes, smearing tears over thin cheeks. “Other mothers are different, but at least they put their child’s well-being first.”
Pim smiled sadly. “You did, though. You never stopped hunting for me. You killed for me.”
“I would’ve burned the entire world to the ground for you.” She growled, sounding every bit a feral inmate.
I could understand why Pim struggled to see the caring parent in her mother. She spoke of avenging her daughter’s disappearance but with a righteousness born from an egotistical pompousness of getting her own back. She killed for her daughter—no denying that sacrifice—but she did it for her own satisfaction, too.
She did it to shout that no one could take what was hers and not suffer the consequences.