Chapter Twenty-Seven: No One is to Blame
"Manuela, we were so worried," Amada said, running to her daughter. She tried to hug her, but Manny quickly stood, avoiding her mother's arms.
"Don't touch me," she growled.
"Manny, I—"
"Don't! Please, just go," she cried.
"What is wrong with you, daughter?" Javier demanded.
She turned to the policewoman. "How dare you call them," Manny seethed.
"Now, Miss Santos, they are your parents."
"They beat me!"
The woman looked surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I came home and my mother whipped me with a belt! Why do you think I didn't stay there?"
"We don't…I would never," Amada gasped.
"Mrs. Santos, have you ever beaten your daughter?"
"Well, I…I did hit her…once."
"Once is too much, mother."
The officer turned to Manny. "Tell me what happened, and we can get you some help. Maybe some foster care."
Manny opened her mouth to speak, to pour out her soul. She closed it. If I tell her, it will never end. She thought for a moment.
"Miss Santos?"
Manny ignored the officer, pondering her options. She could tell her everything. The hopelessness, the cowering in her bedroom. How her mother smashed the belt over and over into her skin. How she spent so much time hiding, fleeing, escaping. How she was afraid, so afraid, that one day her father would break, and she'd never wake up again. The constant parade of fear that became her home life. Or, she could lie for her parents. She could say it was once, just once. Just a little slap across the face for a defiant daughter.
She was frozen, trapped between two worlds. On the one hand, she had her parents, her life. On the other, she would start anew in a big, scary world. And she knew how to survive, but she also knew that the world was not a kind place.
Just like her parents had become.
Manny sank into the chair. "She slapped me once," she whispered. "Only once. It was nothing. I was acting out," her eyes watered and she stared up at her mother. "I'm sorry, mommy."
Anger flashed in Amada's eyes, then sympathy. She leaned down and gave Manny the hug she had attempted moments before. "It's okay, baby. Everything will be okay."
"Please don't send me away," Manny whispered, deflated, crying into her mother's neck.
Amada looked into her daughter's eyes. "We have to. You have to go to the hospital for treatment. You're…you're not well."
Javier looked at the policewoman. "Have you seen what my daughter has done to her arms? Her stomach? Have you asked her about her neck?"
The officer looked Manny over. "I saw the markings on her neck. She said it was from her attacker."
"My daughter, she…she tried to hang herself."
"Her arms and stomach are covered in cuts," Amada contributed.
"We need to find her help," Javier finished.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "You certainly do." She looked at Manny, who felt her heart sinking one more time. "I'm sorry, Manuela, but you need to go to a psychiatric hospital. If this is true, you may have needed to for a while now."
"I'm not crazy," Manny whispered.
"Not crazy! Ha! Carving that…that girl's name into your stomach? Manuela Santos, you—"
"Javier, be quiet."
Manny was surprised. Her mother sticking up for her, against her father? She looked at Amada. Amada gave her the smallest of smiles.
The rest of the discussion Manny didn't feel involved in. Oh, sure, it was all about her, but she didn't have a say in anything. The police and her parents were teaming together to find a way for Manny to get 'better'. She still held the belief that nothing would help, and a small terror was forming inside of her as she thought about having to go back to Degrassi Community School when it was all over. But she made her decision when she lied. She made her decision. The question was, was it the right one?
"It was, like, the creepiest thing I've ever dealt with."
Emma stopped walking. She heard the words, though she wasn't sure whether or not she was meant to. She craned her neck and looked back. Theresa was not looking at Emma; rather, she was deep in conversation with a blonde girl Emma could only assume was the 'Janelle' Manny once mentioned.
"She seemed so cool when we met her," the blonde agreed.
"Yeah, I know. I don't know what happened to that girl, but jeez, man. Grab the damn clue phone, psycho."
Theresa and the blonde laughed together. Emma felt fury rising up inside her.
"How dare you," she said, walking towards them. "Manny is a person. How can you talk about her that way?"
Theresa and the blonde looked at her with mutually bemused expressions. "Emma, huh? Well, look, Emma, your little friend there? She has some serious problems—"
"Problems you created."
"No, see. I didn't. They must've always been there, I had nothing to do with her weird, clingy behavior."
Emma glowered at her, wanting deeply to hit her. "I'm sure you did so much to get that point across to her. I know you knew what she was going through."
"You don't know shit," the blonde interjected.
"What're you talking about?" a brunette boy asked as he walked up to the trio.
"Manny," the blonde replied.
"Santos, huh? That little fuck up?"
"She's not a…screw up!" Emma cried out.
The three friends looked at her. They started snickering. "Screw up? Not woman enough to say 'fuck' yet? Don't worry, you'll get there," the blonde laughed.
"Little Miss Wholesome," the boy agreed.
Emma glared at them. "You know what? Fuck you." She started walking away.
"Ooh, she's growing a pair," the blonde shouted.
"I can't tell you how glad I am your psycho girlfriend is gone!" the boy called after her.
Emma never heard a word from Theresa, but assumed she was laughing along with her friends. At that moment, she hated them with a rage so pure, once it may have scared her. Once.