Send Your Daughter To The Slaughter
Summary: Shelby's mother's point of view when she brought her daughter home from Horizon to look after Walt and how she knew about the abuse of both her daughters.
You hate yourself, you hate him even more, you even hate her a little too. You find yourself thinking horrible, twisted, insane and ridiculous thoughts, if she wasn't so pretty, if she wasn't so easy, if she wasn't so young... if she wasn't, if she wasn't, if she wasn't. Maybe it should have been if he wasn't, because if he wasn't such a miserable and disgusting, sickening bastard this wouldn't have happened. But if you weren't so cowardly, so gutless, spineless, boneless, if you're weren't so pathetic, if you weren't so ugly, if you weren't so cheap, if you weren't so easy... if you weren't, if you weren't, if you weren't. But you are and he is and you tell yourself she was.
Maybe you were imagining it, exaggerating it, seeing and hearing and feeling and knowing something that wasn't there. Because it can't have been there, it can't have happened, he can't have been... no he can't. And if it wasn't happening then it can't have been happening later.
You hate them too, the man and the woman, those two snotty and snobbish, good for nothing, do-good counsellors with the holier-than-thou attitude. The father figure in her life and the woman she looked to as a mother. You're jealous, jealous Shelby has a new mother, jealous she's better than you ever were and ever will be, jealous that Selby deserves it too. You've even jealous Walt chose her bed over yours. But you shouldn't be because she never had a choice and you knew it. You knew all along and when you heard her cry you closed your eyes a little tighter, when you thought about what was happening you tried a little harder to be asleep but you weren't, this wasn't a nightmare and you couldn't wake up.
If she wasn't there, you thought, if she'd leave, if she'd never existed, if she wasn't there. If only, then everything would be ok, would be right and normal and good. Except then one day she's not there and it's happened before, she's always running away, constantly leaving only to come back, but you think maybe, maybe this time it'll stick. That's not what other mothers think in these kinds of situations but other mothers have a backbone and courage, other mothers protect their daughters. You don't, you never could. And she does stay gone, for good it seems. And it's just what you wanted, what you've always wanted, what you've prayed for, begged for, wished for, dreamed of. Things seem to be fine, there's a routine, a solid, comfortable, normal, family routine until it's been 49 days. You've countered and it's long past Shelby due date home and things are still good. 49 nights in bed by your side until you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, you feel sick, physically, mentally, emotionally and every other way you can. You're sick in every way possible because he's not in your bed anymore, he's in hers. Jess'. Your baby, you angel, your youngest, your daughters and you don't do a thing to stop it. Just like you didn't with Shelby, you tell yourself Shelby must have done something to lead him on, she must have wanted it, it must have been her fault but Jess is the good girl and you have no flimsy excuses for his behaviour this time and yet you still do nothing. You had a lot longer than 49 days to do something to save Shelby but you never did, and you've had 49 days to grow a back bone but you didn't, now Jess is the one in danger. You're still pathetic, cowardly, weak, worthless. What good is a mother who doesn't protect her children?
You think maybe it's all ok because you pretend not to see, you don't want to see and besides Jess is a good girl. That becomes your mantra, Jess is a good girl, Jess is a good girl, Jess is a good girl. She hasn't started acting out, fighting, running away or getting into drugs in fact she's done the opposite, she's getting better grades, helping around the house, she's always polite and always attentive, always helpful. She's the perfect daughter. Not like Shelby, Jess in nothing like Shelby which is why nothing is happening to her, not that anything happened to Shelby.
Jess is a good girl, she's getting good marks in school, Jess is a good girl, she helps around the house, Jess is a good girl, not like Shelby, Jess is a good girl, she's involved in sports and clubs, Jess is a good girl, she would never touch drugs or steal or lie, not like Shelby, Jess is a good girl.
You tell yourself that time and time again, at first it was every now and then, maybe once a week, then once a day and once a night, now it's every second of every minute of every day. And then Walt got sick, slowly and surely his body started to shut down and he asked for Shelby to come home. Your heart stopped, your blood froze, you were paralysed. All this time you had been pretending Jess was your only daughter, you had pushed Shelby out of your thoughts but he had kept her in his and it made you angry, sick and jealous all over again. He wants her not you, your daughter. He wants your daughter to take care of him. you try to rationalise it, you have to work, Jess has to go to school and Walt can't take care of himself, he can't be alone, you can't afford to hire someone so Shelby is the only option you have. Isn't she? There's no other reason he wants her there is there? No, you think shaking your head, there can't be. There just can't.
When you call and tell Peter, that you'll be taking Shelby out of Horizon because she has duties to home, to look after her father, step-father, because he is ill, you fell the slightest bit or remorse and maybe you're not such a horrible person after all, but then Peter says you'll have to tell Shelby and you wonder if you can. Your voice gets caught in your throat, your body goes cold, her heart starts beating way too fast and the room is spinning you can't do it. You can't pull your daughter away from the one place that keeps her safe, not that she has anything she needs to be saved from, after all it's her home, where her family is, her sister is trapped just like she was, does she really deserve the safety of Horizon?
You strain to hear as Peter takes the phone to Shelby, you hear laughing and joking, kids hanging out and having a good time. Shelby and her friends.
Your daughter is happy don't do this, the little voice inside your head says, the same voice who'd tell you to stop it, who'd make you see what was happening. Who wanted you to save Jess, but you push that voice away, just like you always have. It was wrong. There was never anything going on, Shelby was making it all up, that little liar. You hear Peter tell Shelby there's a phone call, she seems happy, maybe she's thinking it was Jess, or maybe she's not sure who it could be. You know she doesn't think it will be you. Peter tells her 'it's your mother' and you know you don't deserve that title and you hear her stop abruptly, there's a moment before she gets on the phone, when she does her voice is different, like the life and energy have been sucked out of it. You tell her quickly and painfully, because there was never any other way to tell her you're forcing her back to the lion's den and she begs for you not to, pleads that she can't and with every excuse you grow angrier and more resolute that she'll return. If Jess has to stay then so should Shelby. If you have to stay knowing what's happened then she should too. Not that you knew what was happening because nothing happened. Then Shelby gets angry, normally Shelby would have yelled and screamed and called you every name under the sun, making you feel a bit better about taking her away and bestowing such a cruel punishment on her for crimes beyond her control but she doesn't. You can hear the anger and sadness in her voice, the betrayal and loss of hope in her voice but all she says is 'if there's nothing I can do about it I guess I'll have to see you when you come.' And before you can reply she's gone, there was no goodbye just a dial tone, not that you deserve a goodbye from her.
The drive to Horizon is long and painful, there's an inner battle going on, a mini war inside of you. The voice you try so hard to beat down is telling you everyone would be better off if you put one pill too many in his oatmeal the next morning and left Shelby where she was, maybe even get Jess some kind of counselling but then the other voice, the one you listen to, asks why any of that would be necessary, Walt is a good man, he loves you, her loves your daughters, there was never anything going on and you continue driving. Shelby's packed and ready when you arrive, she's waiting for you, waiting for the worst because you are the worst, the worst thing ever that happened to her and you know it. Walt might have done some terrible things but you looked away, you pretended not to see, you didn't stop it. You called her a liar even though you knew she wasn't. You let her down to hold him up on that pedestal you built for him at the expense of your daughter.
You watch her resigned to her fate as she tells you she's just going to say good bye to Sophie and Peter, she's like a death row inmate going to the electric chair and you're her executioner. You watch her say goodbye, hug them and hold on tight, you see how they interact with her, loving, kindly, motherly and fatherly. You catch the woman's eye, blonde and beautiful Sophie and you know she knows. It makes you want to crawl under a rock and die. Shelby, Sophie and Peter probably wish that you would too.
You watch her climb into the car, accepting her fate, one that you brought her, one that you could change but you don't, because he is a good man, and if not that because you are a coward and you always will be. You start the car and drive away, you're taking the lamb to the lion's den.
You're the one sending your daughter to the slaughter because you're gutless and spineless and pathetically weak. You wonder how long it will be until she realises you knew, you know, until she finds out about Jess. Shelby will do something because she is strong, she will protect her sister because you are too weak to do it. You wonder if she'll call you on it, you know you'll deserve it. You wonder if when she comes to you and tells you will you make excuses? Will you say she's wrong? Will you put blame and guilt on her to ease your own? Will you be as weak as you always are? You don't know and you won't until it happens.
You start the car and drive away, taking the lamb to the lion's den, sending your daughter to the slaughter.