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Chapter Fiddy-Five

Renee opened the door as I shoved my phone into my back pocket. "Why are the groceries in the middle of the floor?"

"Why did you empty out your bank account?" I immediately asked, trying to sound calm.

There was no point in dragging this thing out.

I wanted answers.

I deserved the truth.

"Hi, Isabella. My day went well. Thanks for asking." Renee's tone was slightly acidic as she stepped over the groceries, walking into the kitchen.

She opened the freezer.

The cabinet.

The fridge.

"You won't find any alcohol here. I poured it all down the drain."

Her hands began to shake ever so slightly.

Mine were still perfectly calm.

I had the upper hand for once.

And she didn't have her crutch.

"Why do you think I'm stupid?" I asked, causing her to laugh.

She was still looking through the cabinets.

"Did you not think I would notice the money Gramps left us had disappeared? Why do you think it's okay to do things like this?"

"It's none of your business, Isabella. I suggest you watch your mouth in my house."

"Your house." I laughed hysterically, walking closer for once. "I'd like to see how you're going to pay for your house with an empty bank account."

There was anger flashing in her eyes.

Real anger.

Not the type of anger that was induced by her liquor and pills.

This was real, sober anger. The kind that she would think about for days to come because her mind wasn't yet hazy.

I wanted her to be angry because I had been angry for four years.

I wanted her to feel something other than sorry for herself.

"Mom," I stated calmly. "Why won't you talk to me?"

Nothing would be accomplished if we were both angry and yelling at one another.

"I am talking to you."

"No. You're-" I looked away to keep the tears from spilling over. "You're not happy. You've never been happy."

She stared at me without glaring or looking away and I could see the pain in her eyes.

And then her eyes left mine.

"Mom," I cried and she rolled her eyes. "Is it Phil? Is he bad or...is he...I mean, I don't know what to think. What am I supposed to think?"

"Phil is not a bad man," she admitted and crossed her arms. "Look, okay? He needed a little money for the garden center, so...I helped him out. He wanted to build two new greenhouses, so I loaned him the money. He will pay it back when he can."

"What?" I wiped my cheek and focused on her smug smile. "You just...gave him money? For a greenhouse?"

"Loaned, Bella. I loaned him the money."

"Over," I had to catch my breath, "Twenty grand for a greenhouse?"

"And other renovations. It's going to be great. You'll see."

And then I lost it. Because none of this was right.

Even if Phil weren't a bad guy, he had to have known my mother was sick, or in the very least, that she wasn't normal.

He had to have been taking advantage of her.

"You're not even going to be around to see it!" I yelled.

"What does that mean?"

"We move every fucking six months!"

Renee glared at me as if this was the first time she realized that, oh yeah, maybe we do move quite frequently.

"The house in Austin had mold." She blinked. "We had to move."

"There was always something you claimed to be wrong with the houses or the cities, but did you ever think about what all of those places had in common?"

She stared and trembled.

"You," I said flatly. "You need help."

And then she slapped me.

But I could take it this time.

And when I didn't flinch, she slapped me again.

"What happened to not holding back?" She snarled and slapped me again, the tingling burn only causing me to feel that much stronger.

I wasn't going to let her get to me.

"I'm not going to fight back. You're sick. You don't know what you're doing." I stood firmly and looked her in the eyes. "You need help."

I had set a switch off.

Something inside her head couldn't handle that I was calling her out, which truly scared me because that meant all this time she had assumed she was normal.

When she lunged toward me, I didn't flinch.

When I landed on my back, I just closed my eyes and braced myself for the fall.

When she wrapped her hands around my throat, I thought it was some kind of joke.

What kind of mother strangles her own child?

What kind of mother gives a stranger thousands of dollars instead of taking care of herself and her family?

What kind of mother stares at you in the eyes while she's strangling you, telling you that you have to pay for acting out?

I grabbed her arms and tried pushing her away, but all the time I spent not realizing what was happening only allowed her to maneuver her body to sit on top of mine.

I squirmed and gurgled and felt her nails dig deeper into my skin as she squeezed harder, her eyes more distant.

My sight was becoming blurry and I could no longer hear despite the fact that her mouth was still moving.

And then she let go.

A/N: Apparently Phil is building a state-of-the-art greenhouse. Thanks for reading.