Page 8 of My Vicious Beast
After all, what's the alternative? No matter how poorly I think of myself, I'd never stay with a cheating, pathetic bastard. I at least have a shred of self-respect.
I reach for my phone to check the time and find sixty-three missed calls waiting for me. They're from my parents, Aubrey, James, even his parents.
I swipe them off my screen until I reach a text from my mom:
Please call us, sweetheart. We just want to talk about everything.
I know I shouldn't. I know I don't have to. But my inner child—the version of me who just wants to be loved, to be protected, to have someone hold me and reassure me that everything will be okay, just once—makes me call them.
I bounce my knee as the phone rings and rings, until eventually my mom answers.
"Sienna? Finally," she breathes.
"I'm here," I whisper.
"Let me get your father." There's a pause. Some rustling.
"Hi, honey," my dad says. "We just… we're so sorry."
"We had no idea Aubrey would ever—" she starts.
I can't help it. The moment their voices come together, the moment they allude to it, my whole-body folds in on itself like I'm five again, and I can’t stop shaking.
I hate it. I hate Aubrey and James so much. I hate myself for not being able to hold it together.
"I'm so sorry, baby," my mom whispers.
"I can't believe she did this to you,” my dad says. “We didn't raise her to be like this."
My voice breaks. "I-I thought she loved me."
"She does," they say in unison.
I shake my head. No. She doesn't. Because if this is how she shows her love, I don't want it.
"Where are you? Are you at home?" my mom says.
"Yes."
"Good. Come over, okay? Just for a bit. We can sit down, talk things through, figure this all out together."
Something in her tone makes my spine go ramrod straight.
"What do you mean, 'figure this all out together'? Who's we?"
"Your father, me… Aubrey. James."
The room spins so fast I have to grab onto the back of the couch to steady myself.
"No," I say sharply. "I'm not doing that. I'm not going to sit at your kitchen table and talk it out with the people who destroyed my life, Mom!"
"Sienna," she starts, her voice gentle, placating. "Come on, honey. I know you're upset but?—"
"There's nothing to talk about!" I snap. "I saw them. This isn't some misunderstanding. They were fucking in my bed!"
"We know," my father says with a strained sigh. "We know what they did was wrong but?—"
“But nothing! This isn’t fixable, Dad!”
