Page 3 of Reckless Skye

‘I said, get out, Skye.’

The pain that came with those words was far worse than any physical blow. Still, seeing an escape, Skye painstakingly crawled, first to a kneeling position and then to her feet.

She turned, facing the mirror image of herself if she didn’t leave for good, and she smiled at the irony. A mother reduced to childlike dependency. A child forced to grow up as a result.

‘I meant what I said,’ Skye told her mother. ‘If you ever want to leave, I’ll help. But until then, I won’t see you again.’

Caroline didn’t react. If anything, her blue eyes – eyes so like Skye’s – were dead.

Skye looked at her father one last time. ‘Under the terms of Grandma Jo’s will, you have use of this property until I take over from Mr Simcock as trustee. From that moment on, I’ll expect rent.’ Although she couldn’t look at her mom when she said it, Skye added one last jab. ‘I’ll also be dissolving Mom’s allowance. While I’ll guarantee that she’ll be looked after, any expenses that I deem not directly for her benefit will be denied.’

Holden’s knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists together, wanting, she knew, to take all his fear and rage out on her. After all, what would he do without the Highland Park home, the spiffy cars and the country club membership? How would he suffer the humiliation of being so reduced in the eyes of all his acquaintances?

Time would tell.

Skye would have access to the trust in just a few short years, but the money meant nothing to her when compared to the new taste of freedom.

She was a caged bird set free, and while her wings were still so weak and untried, she was wild with it. Leaning forward, she whispered, ‘Tick-tock, Holden,’ and snapped the air in front of him with her teeth.

Skye didn’t take the car she’d once driven, a sporty little Porsche 911. While the trust had paid for it, Holden had bought it for her.

She huddled in her jacket as the December storm raged, soaking her through, washing the blood from her face, cleansing her. She limped the mile to her best friend’s apartment, crossing the tollway, leaving the little hub of Highland Park for Dallas’s less insulated world.

While she walked, she planned. For the first time in her life, she had nothing to tie her down: no mother to protect, no classes to show up to, no social obligations to make an appearance at.

So, she would travel, maybe pick up a second-hand truck and hit the road, staying far out of Holden’s reach while she could.

He wouldn’t kill her. Certainly not before she turned twenty-five and took control of the trust. Still, Skye wasn’t an idiot. Her father didn’t have to kill her to control her. The year of her adolescence she’d lost to the Hamburg Treatment Center had taught her that.

So, for the next few years, she’d keep a low profile and stay off his radar. She’d see the United States, forgoing Holden’s preference for five-star hotels to sleep under the stars in all the state parks. She’d get lost and – just maybe – find herself in the process.

The world was her oyster.

When Skye let herself into Andrea’s apartment, her friend was anxiously pacing her living room, waiting for her.

Andrea looked up when she heard Skye’s footsteps. ‘Oh my God. What the fuck happened?’ She pulled Skye into her arms, squeezed her tight, before setting her back and scanning her face closely, looking at the extent of her injuries.

‘He came home unexpectedly,’ Skye explained. ‘But I’ll be okay.’

‘We need to go to the police, Skye.’ Andrea spun around. ‘File a formal report.’

Skye shook her head. ‘No. My mom …’

‘Skye … Please, don’t let him get away with this. If he were locked up, we could start helping your mom.’

For the first time that night, panic slashed through Skye’s calm resolve. Still, she kept her voice steady. ‘He already has gotten away with it, Dre. He’ll have had my mom clean up the blood. If we do get the cops involved, he’ll make her lie for him. And she will. He’s done it before – and I ended up institutionalized.’ She sighed deeply – and regretted it instantly when her ribs protested against even that slight movement. ‘I can’t put her through it. She’s not capable. And Holden … He’ll paint a perfectly detailed picture of a bitter daughter with a history of mental illness.’

Andrea crossed her arms. ‘I don’t agree with you.’ She sighed. ‘But I’ll trust that you know what’s best for you.’

‘We document. Again.’

‘I’ll text Stevie.’ Andrea ran one hand tiredly through her chestnut hair. ‘Why don’t you change while we wait for her?’

Skye nodded, relieved that this wouldn’t be another battle. It was so simple with them. Her girls.

She’d met Andrea and Stevie in her freshman writing class at SMU, the college just down the road from her parents, the school Holden had insisted she go to so that she would be close to home. On the first day, Stevie had plonked down in the seat next to her and started rambling as if they’d been best friends for years. Minutes later, when the professor had split them into groups of three, they’d both met Andrea.

Although Skye had tried to avoid them outside of class, they’d made it difficult for her. They’d pulled her into group lunches and then girls’ nights in their dorms. They had slowly peeled back her layers until they’d realized that something wasn’t quite right. And still, it had taken Stevie and Andrea a year to get the truth out of her, another year to convince her to speak to a therapist at a women’s shelter.