“My father—my real father—left my mother when I was a baby. For a long time it was just me and her. We were dirt-poor but I was happy. She loved me and did her best. I adored her. She encouraged me to sing. In the evenings, I’d sing to her while she did dishes. She said she never got tired of hearing her baby’s voice. She always swore I’d be a star.”
She drew in a deep breath. “When I was nine, she met Danny Higgins. At first it was nice. She was so happy. So alive. I hadn’t realized how hard it had been on her until then. Suddenly she had help. She wasn’t alone. We moved in with him after they got married. He insisted my mother didn’t work. She’d worked two jobs until then. She worked in a local factory during the week and she waitressed in a café on the weekends.
“I can remember thinking that it was the start of a great new life for us. Suddenly we didn’t have to worry about where our next meal would come from. She no longer had to bring home leftovers from the café, and for the first time ever, she bought me new clothes from the rack in a store instead of getting them from Goodwill or neighbors who gave us their kids’ castoffs.
“But it didn’t last,” she said faintly. “Danny had a quick temper. It got even nastier when he’d drink. It was the whole cliché, stereotypical abusive husband. He’d drink. Hit my mom. Get sober. Apologize. I still think to this day she only stayed because I had a better life. Or at least she thought I did.”
Dread curled in Connor’s stomach. He had a very good idea of where this was headed and it made him ill.
“Danny lost his well-paying job and he yelled at my mom that it was time for her to start carrying her weight. She went back to work at the factory. Waitressed on weekends. It seemed all she did was work. She’d come home tired and have to contend with Danny’s nasty moods. I did everything I could to make things easier for her. I cooked. I cleaned.”
“Jesus,” Connor muttered. “You were only a baby yourself.”
Lyric went on as if he hadn’t spoken. Her eyes were glassy and had a distant look, as if she were unaware that he was even here anymore. She was lost in her past. Reliving each and every moment.
“Danny started paying a lot more attention to me. Got all lovey and affectionate. Wanted me to sit on his lap. Freaked me out but I was afraid of him. I’m sure you know where this is going. The whole thing could come straight out of some made-for-TV movie. Evil stepfather. Messing around with the stepdaughter.”
Connor had to bite his lip to call back the savage curse that threatened to boil out. She was so casual. So flip. As if because it happened to so many, it didn’t matter that it had happened to her.
“He’d come into my bedroom at night while my mom was working, and he’d rape me. And the entire time he’d whisper how much he loved me and how beautiful I was and what a good girl I was.”
Connor closed his eyes against the sting of tears. God. No wonder she hated to hear those words. Especially during sex.
“If you’re wondering why I didn’t tell my mom, I did. It took me a while to work up the courage. I waited until he had gone out and then I told her and I begged her for us to leave before he got back. She was devastated. I’d never seen her cry. Not through us being poor and hungry. Not when he hit her. She never cried until I told her what he’d done.”
Unable to keep from touching her and offering comfort, Connor stroked his hand over her cheek, smoothing away the tears that still crept over her cheekbone. He let his fingers trail into her hair and then he rubbed up and down her arm.
To his surprise, she scooted closer, as if seeking the comfort of his body. She curled into his arm and laid her head against his shoulder. Maybe she could no longer face him and it was easier to let loose the poison of her past when they weren’t staring eye to eye.
He wrapped his arms around her and entwined their legs, wanting no separation between them. Never once would he want her to feel like she was somehow less for what was done to her. He’d hold her forever if that was what it took.
“I thought we’d just go. But I underestimated my mom’s anger. She confronted Danny when he got home. For the first time, she stood up to him. She told him she was going to have him arrested and that she hoped he rotted in hell.”
“Good for her,” he said softly.
Lyric shook her head. “No. It was the wrong thing to do. We should have just gone. Left and never looked back. She wanted justice. I just wanted us safe. He flew into a rage. I think he forgot I was even there. I hid in the cabinet under the sink while he beat her to death.”
She made a sound like a wounded animal. The moan tore from her throat and her fingers dug into his skin. “There was blood. So much blood. I remember peering through the crack in the cabinet door, so terrified I could do nothing. I did nothing. I hid like a coward while my mother died. I let him kill her because I was afraid he’d turn on me. Or worse, he’d keep me and abuse me. So I sat there and listened to her screams.”
Connor pressed his mouth to her hair as nausea rolled through his stomach. He trembled against her even as he held her so close it was a wonder she could breathe.
“Worse than the screams and the sounds of him hitting my mother was the silence afterward. So silent you could have heard a whisper. I stayed under the sink for three days. When they finally found me, my mom had been dead for over seventy-two hours, and I hid there and never did anything to help her.”
“Sweet mother of God,” Connor swore. “Lyric, you were just a child. A terrified little girl who’d already been horribly abused by the son of a bitch. Do you think your mother would have wanted you to die with her? Do you think she wouldn’t have wanted you to hide?”
“I just know that I did nothing and I traded my life for hers. I could have run. I could have gone to a neighbor’s. I could have done something,” she finished with a sob. “Those three days were the worst of my life. I was alone in that house while she lay dead just feet away. Even after I knew he was gone, I couldn’t make myself leave my hiding place. I’ve never liked being alone since. It terrifies me.”
Connor gathered her close and turned her face up so he could kiss her forehead. He smoothed his hand over her hair and simply stroked as he willed some of the burning rage he felt on her behalf to calm.
“My testimony put him in prison for life. Because I was a minor and was so traumatized by the event, they sealed the records and I was born again, so to speak. New name. New life. No one knew of my past. Not even my string of foster parents. They only knew I had been sexually abused and my mother had died. I chose Lyric to honor my mother’s vision of my future. I was determined to become a singer for her.”
“And you did,” he said softly. “You became the best.”
She let out a pitiful laugh that sounded more like a sob. “No, not the best. I’ve lived my life afraid that someone would find out about my past.”
“Baby, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You were a victim.”
She shook her head adamantly. “I don’t want anyone to know. I’ve never told anyone. Except you . . . I couldn’t bear it to be splashed across all the papers and magazines.”
“Is that why you give them so much else to talk about?”
For a long moment she remained silent. “Maybe. I don’t know. That sounds like an excuse. I don’t always like the things I do, and yet I still make stupid choices. It’s sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy, I guess. I’ve tried so hard to project this give-a-shit attitude. Maybe I’m preparing for the day when someone does find out about my past. I don’t want anyone to ever see me that vulnerable.”