I started to explain that I was weird, but I stopped myself. Ainsley had a point. I didn’t have a common childhood and I didn’t talk, but that didn’t make me some strange, unknown creature.
Ainsley knew a lot about my childhood. She knew it had been rough for me and Rider, and that I’d been burned, but there were things I hadn’t told her. Stuff that I had only ever talked to Dr. Taft about. Things Carl and Rosa knew, because they’d seen the police reports and my case file.
My gaze swung around the room, settling on the owl soap carving before coasting over my neat desk and the thickly cushioned window seat. This bedroom was so different than the ones in that house. Clean, bright and airy. Welcoming.
The back of my throat dried as I looked at Ainsley. Never in the past had I wanted to tell her the things I never talked about, but the need blossomed, burning through my stomach and chest.
I forced my tongue to become unglued from the roof of my mouth. “I have...a problem with noise and talking.” Heat flooded my cheeks as I lowered my gaze to the pillow I held. It was hard to explain why a dance might be too much. “I had to be quiet, because Mr. Henry didn’t like...noise. He didn’t like a lot of stuff, but staying quiet kept me out of...trouble for the most part.”
Ainsley stilled, quiet.
Drawing in a deep breath, I continued. “Rider would always...tell me ‘not to make a sound’ so...I couldn’t be found when Mr. Henry was drunk or when I...did something wrong. Sometimes, he would get mad if I ate cookies or...walked up the stairs too loudly. He never liked it if I spoke. And I...I guess—I know that’s why I don’t like to talk and I don’t like noise. The therapist I saw used to say it was post-traumatic stress syndrome...and conditioning.” The heat lessened as I continued. “Anyway, the night...I was burned, something else happened.”
She didn’t know how I was burned, so I told her. It was rough and painful to get out. The room was so quiet, even with the TV on low in the background, I could hear a cricket sneeze. I told her about Velvet and how much I treasured the doll Rider had stolen for me, no matter how old I got. I explained how a few weeks before, Mr. Henry had gotten mad over something insignificant and had taken the doll, stashing it in plain sight, really just to taunt me. I told her how Mr. Henry had tossed Rider outside after he’d asked if we were having dinner that night.
“He...threw the doll in the fireplace,” I explained, smoothing my hands over the pillow. “I didn’t think. I reached in...and tried to grab it. That was how I burned...my arms.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
“I know it sounds stupid, but Velvet was the...only thing that was mine. It never belonged to anyone but...me. I just panicked.” I shook my head. “But before that, I...tried to get Miss Becky to wake up. She always...liked Rider. I thought she would step...in.”
“She didn’t?” Her voice was quiet.
I swallowed the sudden burn in my throat. “I went...into her bedroom even though I wasn’t supposed to. Miss Becky drank a lot. When I was younger, I thought it was because she was sick. I...went into that room and she was lying on the bed...”
My breath caught as the image of the room formed. Empty bottles. Messy floor. Miss Becky on the bed, her thin chest unmoving and her skin a weird, waxy color. “I thought...she was sleeping. She slept a lot. I called her name and when she didn’t wake up, I went to the bed. I tried to shake her.” Wincing at the memory, I barely heard Ainsley’s soft inhale. “She wasn’t asleep. She’d...died sometime that day. Later I heard that it was an overdose. Pills and alcohol. Mr. Henry didn’t even know. I guess her passing out...was so common, he...he didn’t even check on her.”
“Oh my God,” Ainsley repeated.
“I’ve been dreaming about that night, about touching her. I don’t know why. For a while I didn’t think of her, but it...messed with me.”
“It would mess with anyone, Mal. God, I would be traumatized if I saw a dead person from a distance, much less up close and personal.” She tucked long blond strands behind her ears. “What happened after you were burned?”
“I...I was screaming. I guess. I don’t...remember exactly. I just pieced it together from what I heard later, but Rider heard my screams and he...went to the neighbors. It took a couple houses...before anyone answered the door. They called the police.” I forced myself to keep going. “When the police showed up, Mr. Henry answered the door like...nothing was wrong. So crazy. Mr. Henry ended up in jail for what he did to Rider and me. I...I doubt he’s still in jail. I don’t think about that,” I said, and that part was true. “I don’t know why, but I...I don’t.”
I lifted my gaze just in time to see Ainsley spring forward. She wrapped her arms around me, nearly tackling me. I froze, unused to this. I didn’t hug a lot. For the most part, I didn’t like to be touched, but I got over it quickly, because the hug was warm and good. Different than Carl and Rosa’s. Different than Rider’s, but just as good.
Wrapping my arms around her, I hugged her back. I didn’t even know why I’d told her, but I was glad I did. A weird rush of tears pricked the backs of my eyes. Not sad ones. More like relief. Confiding in Ainsley felt like I’d just stripped off a layer of bulky clothing.
Ainsley pulled back, her eyes shining. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
I didn’t know what to say, but for once I didn’t mind. Right now there was nothing to be said and that was okay with me.