A Good Killing by Leotta Allison

Author:Leotta, Allison [Leotta, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

32

When I woke up the morning after I made the report to Sergeant Gargaron, the pile of my clothes still lay on the floor in my bedroom. It had been two days since Owen Fowler raped me and sixteen hours since I’d reported it to the police. I stared at the pile. In it were my best going-out jeans, a pair of lavender Jockey underpants, my favorite padded bra, and a light blue shirt with a big silver snowflake on it. I loved that shirt.

Mom knocked on my open door and came in carrying a mug of cocoa. She sat on the edge of the bed and handed it to me. We both looked at the pile. It was like having a pile of dog poop in your room, and not being allowed to clean it up. She said, “I’ll call again today.”

“Okay.” I nodded and took a sip of the hot chocolate. She’d even put tiny marshmallows on the top. She must’ve really felt sorry for me.

“I was thinking,” she said. “Let’s call Anna.”

“No.”

“She would come right home. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“I don’t want her to come home.”

“She’d want to help you.”

“I don’t want her help. I don’t want her to know.”

“You know, your sister is your best friend. Sisters are always there for each other. Blood is thicker than—”

“Yeah, I know, Mom. You’ve told us that, like, a thousand times. But you don’t have to tell your best friend everything. Don’t tell her. Please. I don’t want her to see me that way.”

You were my hero, Annie. And I was ashamed. Worst-case scenario: you’d be disappointed in me. Best case: you’d feel sorry for me. Actually, maybe that was the worst case. You were “the smart one,” but I was “the tough one.” At least I was supposed to be tough. I couldn’t stand the thought of you seeing me as a victim.

Mom said, “Sleep on it.”

“I already did.” I lay back down and pulled a pillow over my head.

“Good point.” She tossed the pillow aside. “Time to get up.”

I groaned. It was Monday. The idea of facing my classmates was unbearable. “I’m not going to school today.”

“I would think not.”

That made me perk up. “Can I just stay in bed?”

“No.”

She made me get up, take a shower, and get dressed, which—I admit—did make me feel better. I tried to ignore the putrid pile of clothes as I stepped around it. We watched a marathon of Law & Order reruns and sat on the couch all day, eating Cherry Garcia out of the container. I love those crime dramas, how everything is tied up so neatly at the end. They always get some kind of closure and justice, unlike the real world.

Mom kept checking her cell phone. We didn’t talk about it, but we both were waiting for the police to call and tell us what was going on with the case. The phone was silent.

Around noon, she ordered pizza. At some point, I realized she had taken another day off work.

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