Chapter Fifty-Four Her

Chapter Fifty-Four Her

Present Day

Run.

Not caring where Kathryn was or what she was doing, I hit the stairs. Took them two at a time. Not jogging. Racing. The hammering

of my heartbeat in my ears drowned out every other sound.

Scurrying. Frantic. Bolting up and down the hallway. Wild with fear. My chest rose and fell on labored breaths. My shoes thudded

against the floor, squeaking when the soles met the hardwood.

I opened every door, letting each slam against an inside wall as I scanned the floor and furniture for my mom’s sprawled body.

Hating her. Loving her. The complicated reality of our relationship fell away in my desperate sprint to find her.

Mom alive. Kathryn out of my house for good. That was the plan.

I gripped the bannister and tried to wipe my mind clear. The booming screams of you’re too late pounded against my temples. When I finally focused again I saw Kathryn. She stood there, still in the foyer below. Motionless

and quiet.

I dashed down the stairs, not caring as my shoes slipped and my balanced faltered. I grabbed Kathryn by the shoulders and shook her. Her head bobbed back and forth. She didn’t try to fight back or push me away.

“Where is she?” All the anger and frustration that had been simmering for months exploded. I morphed from worried to crusading

avenger. A storm of regrets and demands pummeled me. The battle of the what ifs snuffed out by the pain I wanted to inflict on Kathryn.

“You’re just like her. A manipulative little bitch, looking to make a quick buck and sleeping around to get it.”

Her taunts challenged me. She wanted me to go after her, to be the one to lose it. Not happening.

I pushed her to the side. Mom had to be down here. Close by. “Mom!”

“She can’t hear you.”

The voice came from right behind me, as if Kathryn had whispered the chilling comment in my ear. That grating tone, usually

so firm and condescending, turned haunting.

A shudder moved through me as I scrambled to check the rooms on this floor. I ran past the library door then doubled back.

A shoe. Mom’s shoe. Stepping inside I both wanted to see her face and dreaded finding her broken.

Slim blue jeans. Legs. “No, no, no.”

I skidded inside and fell to my knees beside her slumped body. She sat on the floor in front of the couch with her hands palms

up beside her thighs. Her head had rolled back onto the ivory cushion now stained red beneath her ear. I stared at her chest

hoping to see air move in and out. Before I could check for a pulse, I heard footsteps.

“She deserved it.” Kathryn’s eerie voice cut through the silence.

I saw the bat first. Kathryn held it as she loomed over me. This bitch thought I was going to let her take a swing. As if I wasn’t going to kick and scream this house down before she could touch me.

Wedged between the furniture and Mom’s body, I didn’t have many options. Looked like all the useless decorative stuff in the

room finally had a purpose. The first coffee table book hit Kathryn’s arm and she yelled in outrage. I threw the second one

harder, aiming for her head but she ducked in time.

Next came the basket with those glass balls Richmond insisted were handcrafted and expensive. They looked like ornaments without

the hooks. Perfect for fighting off a woman lost in her rage.

The first ball bounced off Kathryn and shattered on the floor. With the second, she turned her head in time for it to miss

her face, but it cracked against the side of her head. She reeled back, stumbling and off-balance, which gave me a few seconds

to climb over Mom and get up.

The fight lasted less than a minute. Then a new battle started. Kathryn let out an ear-piercing scream, part roar and filled

with venom. She stalked toward me, her steps unsure and her body weaving. I beelined for the crystal lamp just as she raised

the bat.

“Mom, stop!”