“Yay. Thanks, Mom,” Christian said. “Can I have a large one all to myself? Puh-leaze?”
“Boy, you know you need to share it with your sister. Stop being greedy.”
“But I’m hungry.” Christian emphasized the word ‘hungry’ to make his point.
“Tell you what. I’ll get you an order of chicken wings, too, only if you agree to eat a salad as well. Deal?”
“Deal. Thanks, Mom,” Christian responded with glee.
After making the run to the pizza place, they made it to the apartment complex. Christian bounded from the car as soon as Olivia parked. He grabbed the food and dashed toward the building.
“Christian,” Olivia yelled. “Come get your duffle bag.” Her words fell on deaf ears since he’d already rounded the corner.
Olivia shook her head and gathered his things from the car before strolling to the apartment door. She knocked and listened for the dogs. Hearing none, her heart rate slowed to its normal pace. Christian opened the door and greeted her with pizza sauce smeared on his face. “Hey, Mom.”
“Boy. I can’t believe you started eating already,” Olivia laughed. “Did you wash your hands and say grace?” She gazed around the apartment with disgust. The living room appeared as unkempt as it had been on her last visit.
“Yes, Mom.” Christian sat on the sofa and stuffed a huge bite of pizza into his mouth and reached for another piece from the box on the coffee table.
“Boy, slow down,” Olivia chastised. “Did you tell your sister to come out to eat?”
Christian talked with his mouth full. “She didn’t say anything when I told her we had pizza.”
“I’ll go get her.” Olivia started toward the hallway to the bedrooms. She stopped in her tracks. “Wait a minute. Where are the dogs?”
Christian pointed with his thumb to the back patio. Olivia heard whimpering and scratching on the door. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Make sure you don’t open the back door as long as I’m here. Do you understand me?” Olivia gave him a stern look.
Christian nodded his head multiple times and continued to eat as if he hadn’t had food in days.
Olivia walked to Simone’s bedroom door and paused. Malcolm’s comments about their daughter’s bad attitude flashed through her mind. Olivia prayed she wouldn’t get the cold shoulder treatment today. After taking a deep breath, she knocked and called out, “Simone. Hey, it’s Mom.”
No response. Olivia knocked again and pressed her ear to the door. She heard scuffling.
“Simone? Are you in there?” Olivia turned the unlocked knob and opened the door into the darkened room. After flipping on the light switch, she noticed her daughter hunched on the side of the bed.
“Mom,” Simone cried out. She slid something beneath her covers and yanked the sleeve of her hoodie across her arm. A bewildered look spread across her face.
“Why didn’t you answer me when I called your name?” Olivia questioned. She scanned the room for a boy who may be hiding somewhere. Despite Simone’s age of eleven, Olivia didn’t let the fact kids were experimenting with sex earlier in life these days slide by. She’d counseled pregnant children in the past. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I…I was taking a nap.” Olivia’s instincts alerted her as always when her daughter wasn’t telling the truth. Whenever she lied, her eyebrows raised into her hairline and she scratched her neck with her middle finger, which is what Simone did at this moment.
“Simone. You’re lying to me.” Olivia entered the room and focused on her daughter. Simone held the sleeve of her hoodie with one hand as if she were hiding something. A few red spots seeped through the pink fabric.
“No, Mom.” Simone’s eyes shifted back and forth. She continued to scratch her neck. “I’m not lying.”
Olivia’s radar sounded off in her head. “Is that blood on your shirt? Roll your sleeve up and show me your arm.”
Simone’s eyes widened in fear. Her body shuddered. “Why?” Simone wound her arms together in an attempt at defiance.
“Simone. Don’t make me tell you again. Now.” Olivia and Simone engaged in a staring match. She caught sight of a reflection of herself when Simone tightened her jaw and shook her head.
“You have three seconds before you’ll regret disobeying me,” Olivia warned. “One. Two.”
One would think a concrete block held Simone’s arm as she jutted it toward Olivia before she finished counting to three.
Olivia bent and lifted Simone’s arm to where she could see better. She slid the sleeve up to her elbow and gasped at the revelation.
“Simone,” Olivia cried and dropped to her knees after seeing the multiple cuts on her daughter’s forearm. She estimated seven shallow marks of different lengths. Some were fresh and still bleeding. Others were scabbed or faded scars. “What is this?”
“Stop, Mom. You're hurting me.” Simone attempted to snatch her arm from Olivia’s grasp. She couldn’t escape.
“Simone. Are you cutting yourself?” Olivia shrieked. She couldn’t stop looking at the broken skin on her daughter’s arm.
Simone didn’t answer. Her arm fell limp in Olivia’s hand in defeat. She turned her head and gazed at a wall as if in shame of the discovery. Tears streamed across her face in a silent cry.
Olivia couldn’t conjure up additional words. Her remembrance as a survivor of self-injury soared to the front of her mind. Sadness swept through her with the thoughts of choosing bulimia as a coping mechanism after clashing with her mother as a child. She knew the long-lasting effects it could have on into adult life.
Her experience as a psychologist kicked into gear. She spoke in a softer tone to coax out a response. “Honey. Why do you have marks on your arm?” Olivia released her grip and raised from her knees to sit on the bed. She placed a hand on Simone’s shivering back.
Something silver protruded from underneath the covers. Olivia reached beneath the sheet and removed a paring knife.
She
