Karin Slaughter - Kisscut

For the rest of his life, maybe even right now, trapped in his body as he was, Mark would carry with him the knowledge that he had enjoyed it. Just for that moment in time, he had been his mother's favorite, he had experienced what he thought of as love for maybe the first time in his life. In her sick, twisted way, Grace Patterson had made her son feel wanted, and he had loved her back for it, even as he had hated her for doing something so wrong.

The room was silent but for the machines and the blood pounding in Lena 's ears. She heard a high-pitched whining noise, but knew it was only in her head. She wanted to stand up, to let go of Mark, to leave him in this bed to die because he would do that with or without her.

Still, she had come this far. There was no one stopping her, no one questioning the insanity of her revelations. There was just Lena in the room, and if Mark was there, if he was really there with her, hearing what she was saying, then he was probably the only other person in the world who could understand what she was saying.

"I was so lonely when he left me there," Lena began, her voice a hoarse whisper as she made herself go back to that horrible place. She clenched her teeth, not sure she could go on. It was this part that killed her every time, the reason she would never go into therapy or tell anyone what had really happened in that room four months ago.

"When he came back-back into the room-and I wasn't alone anymore…" Lena stopped, choking on a sob. She could not say this. She could not make herself admit this to anyone, not even Mark, not even this lifeless shell who wasn't even Mark anymore. She was not strong enough. She could not overcome this.

"Shit," Lena cried, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Her body shook, and soon she was wracked with sobbing. If Mark could still feel things, he would be able to feel her hands shaking, sense the fear that held her body like a steel trap. He would understand the pain that touched her deep inside the way no one ever would be able to again. No pills would take this away. Even a bullet passing through her brain would not push out the knowledge, and Lena knew that even if she did manage to do it, to pull that trigger or take all of those pills, her last thoughts would still be of him .

"No," Lena said, shaking her head violently side to side. "No, no, no," she insisted, thinking about what Nan had said, knowing what Sibyl would say if she were here.

"Be strong," Lena said, speaking for Sibyl. "Be stronger than this."

Lena thought of Hank, too, sitting on the floor in her bathroom, weeping openly, just as she wept now.

"When he came back into the room with me," Lena began, forcing herself to speak, pushing herself to say his name. "When he came back to me," she repeated, "part of me was relieved." She stopped, knowing that was still not right. She could tell Mark this, because Mark understood. He knew what it was like to be so empty that you took whatever people gave you. She knew the loneliness of being locked in a pitch-black room with nothing to do but wait. She knew that there came a point when your mind told you everything was wrong, but your body betrayed you anyway, reaching out for whatever comfort was offered.

She swallowed, starting again. "When he came back into the room," she began, "part of me was… happy."

Sara sat on the floor across from Lacey Patterson in the back room of the children's clinic. Just a few days ago, Lacey had come here seeking help. Now she was back, having gone through unspeakable things, and all Sara could do was wait for the girl to talk.

"Dottie just left you at Wayne 's house?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," Lacey said, looking down at her shoes. She had asked to sit on the floor for some reason, and Sara had obliged, wanting to make the girl as comfortable as possible. She did not want Sara close, and so they had decided Sara would sit a foot away with her back against the closed door. Lacey sat in the middle of the room.

Lacey said, "The pills made me sleepy."

"And you don't remember anything that went on until you woke up in the hospital?"

She nodded, then started to bite her fingernails. Time passed, and the little girl was down to the cuticle on her thumb, and working on her pinky finger when Sara reached out and stopped her.

"You'll hurt yourself," Sara said, then realized from Lacey's expression how silly the warning was.

Lacey chewed at her cuticle, asking, "Is Mark going to be okay?"

"I don't know, sweetie."

Lacey teared up, but she did not cry. "I didn't mean to hurt him," she said.

"How did you hurt him?"

"He was coming after me again, and I just grabbed the knife."

"You're the one who cut him?"

She nodded, chewing another nail. "They were at Dot-tie's, taking things out of the house and painting. I was hiding, but Mark found me. I kicked him in the head with my foot." She took her fingers out of her mouth. "Mark didn't want me to come here to see you. I wanted to say goodbye, and then I was so scared I got sick. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Sara assured her. "So you came here and then Mark showed up? And then you ran and Dottie picked you up in the black car?"

Lacey nodded, but she still would not say who had been driving the car. She asked, "You don't think that's why he tried to kill himself, do you? Because I hit him?"

"No," Sara assured her. "I think that Mark had a lot of other problems that led him to think that was his only choice."

"Can I see him?" she asked in a small voice.

"If you want to."

"I want to."

Sara sat back, watching the girl chew her fingers. Lacey's hair had been cut almost in a buzz cut. Dottie had probably planned to disguise her as a boy until she could sell her off to the highest bidder.

"Is my daddy coming back soon?" Lacey asked.

"Do you want to see him?"

"He didn't know," she said, as if she could read Sara's mind. "I knew about Mark and Mama, but Daddy didn't know."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "If he found out, he would've killed Mark."

"How about you, honey?" Sara asked. "Did Mark ever touch you?"

She looked away.

"Lacey?"

She shook her head vehemently, but Sara did not believe her. She was still torn on the subject of Mark Patterson. On the one hand, he had been a victim, and on the other, he had obviously been an abuser.

Lacey said, "Mark was nice to me."

Sara let this pass. "Did Dottie ever make you sit for pictures?"

"No," she said. "Mark and Jenny did, though. They got their pictures taken, and sometimes they were in movies. I saw them doing it."

"But you never did?"

Lacey put her hand back in her mouth. "Mark said if he ever caught me doing any of that he would tell Daddy."

"Mark didn't want you to do it?"

"I wanted to," she countered, taking on a petulant child's tone. "Jenny was doing it, and she went to a party and did it with lots of boys."

"Do you think Jenny enjoyed doing that?"

"I tried it once, and Mark found out." She dropped her hand into her lap. "That's when he hit me."

Sara let this sink in. She had never even dreamed that Mark was trying to protect his sister.

"This was when Mark got arrested, right?"

Lacey seemed surprised that Sara knew this. "Yeah."

"But, he didn't tell your father?"

"I told him if he did that I would tell about him and Mama."

She said "him and Mama" in a singsong way, as if the phrase had been practiced over and over. Sara imagined that Lacey had used this as a threat on more than one occasion. She was still a child at heart, and most children would do anything they could to get their way.

"I didn't like it anyway," Lacey said. "I told him I wouldn't do it anymore. I didn't like it." She frowned. "Dottie was mean when she was like that. Not like she was when we were playing."