Read Online Red by Erica Spindler - Free Book Online Page B

terry-cloth.
    â€œMama?” she whispered, clutching her hands together in a silent prayer. “Mama, please.”
    Her mother blinked, focusing on her daughter for the first time. Shock moved across her mother’s expression, a dawning horror, then her features cleared, relaxing into an almost childlike mask. “Hello, baby.”
    Becky Lynn swallowed. “Mama, look at me. Please.” She crossed to her mother and stopped directly before her. “I need you to see me, Mama.”
    â€œOf course I see you, baby.” She tipped her head back, curving her lips into a small, simple smile. “Did Miss Opal keep you late?”
    Becky Lynn shifted her gaze to the stove clock, its face cracked and coated with a film of grease but still readable. Nearly eleven. Five hours had passed since she’d left the Cut ‘n Curl. Five hours spent in hell.
    â€œNo, Mama.” Her chin began to quiver, and her eyes filled. “Mama, some boys…they… Mama, they hurt—”
    Her mother shook her head and clucked her tongue. “She shouldn’t keep you so late on a school night.”
    Becky Lynn drew in a ragged breath, her vision blurring. “Don’t do this, Mama. I…need you. Please. I need you so much.”
    Her mother clutched her robe so tightly her knuckles poked out, stark and white even against the faded terry. “Go on to bed, baby. Everything will be better in the morning.”
    Becky Lynn took a step backward, a cry slipping past her lips. Her mother couldn’t deal with this. She wouldn’t deal with it. Turning, Becky Lynn returned to the living room. She crossed to her father, stopping directly in front of him, blocking the TV.
    â€œDaddy,” she whispered, twisting her fingers together, “please help me.”
    He lifted his eyes to hers. His were dull and red from drink. He grunted.
    â€œSome boys hurt me, Daddy. They—” Her throat closed over the words and she struggled to clear it. “They forced me…they—”
    As if suddenly seeing her, her father moved his gaze over her. “Where’ve you been, girl?”
    â€œI’m trying to tell you. Tommy Fischer and Ricky Jones—” She darted a glance at her brother. His head was lowered, his shoulders hunched. “They…they rapedme. They knocked me down…and held my hands and feet—”
    Her father lurched to his feet, forcing her backward. “Don’t you make up stories to cover your whoring!”
    â€œNo!” Becky Lynn shook her head violently. “No…they put a bag over my head and—”
    â€œRandy?” Her father swung toward his son, weaving slightly. “Those boys your friends? The ones on the team?”
    Randy glanced up, then away, looking like he wanted to puke. “Yes, sir.”
    â€œThey at the rally t’night?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Becky Lynn fought for a breath. “It happened before the pep rally! They talked about how they were going to explain to the coach, they—”
    â€œLying whore,” her father snapped. “Get out of my sight, before I beat the hell out of you.”
    Becky Lynn stumbled backward. Her mother stood in the kitchen doorway, white as a new sheet, visibly trembling. Becky Lynn met her eyes, pleading silently. Stand up for me. Mama, I need you.
    But her mother didn’t stand up for her. For long moments, she stood gazing at her daughter, unmoving save for the way she clutched and released the vee of her robe.
    Becky Lynn’s vision blurred. She had no one here. Not in this house. Not in Bend. No one who believed in her, no one who cared enough to stand up for her. Ricky and Tommy could rape her as often as they liked, and no one would care.
    She blinked, clearing her vision, looking at her mother once more, a strange feeling of relief moving over her. Hermother had set her free. Now, truly, there was nothing for her in Bend.
    Turning,