Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I pick it up, turning it over in my hand. It’s me, and it’s so detailed that it’s terrifying. Red sprays from the back of my head from a bullet wound to the forehead. It’s the highest form of flattery from her.
Closing the closet, I inspect her room. It’s simple and clean, and other than a few of her sculptures, it doesn’t look like it’s been updated since she was a teenager.
When I open the bedroom door, I hear someone speaking softly and head toward the sound. I stop at the end of the hall and find her mother in the kitchen. She isn’t cooking; she’s leaning against the kitchen counter, talking to someone on the phone. She takes a sip from her mug, and that’s when she spots me. She hangs up and waves me in. The last time I saw her, which was at the art show, she didn’t look too impressed with me, so it’s a refreshing surprise to be greeted with a small smile as I approach her.
“You seem to be healing up quickly,” she says as she pulls out a bottle of water for me. I thank her for it.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” I’m unsure of what else to say. How much does she know? What can I discuss with her? This is the woman Hope idolizes, and as much as I love terrorizing her father, I need to impress her mother. It’s a foreign concept to me—trying to gain anyone’s approval. Especially a mother’s. Admittedly, I don’t even know what a real mother is, but I’m willing to learn for Hope’s sake.
“Hope is a good girl,” Lena says with a bright smile. “But she’s a lot like her father and her aunt. She has a darker side not many people will embrace. I was afraid of your relationship going further, for the simple fact you would endanger her and potentially judge her for it. She isn’t perfect, but she is perfect in my eyes, so if you do anything to betray her, it won’t just be my husband coming after you,” she warns.
I’m a little taken aback because she delivers the warning with a perfect smile on her lips. “With all due respect, Ms. Love, I love your daughter because of her faults. Which is why I’m also the best person to protect her.”
I wonder if Lena’s protective mama bear routine has more to do with the fact that Hope has never brought a man home. I know this because I dug up as much as I could about her. “My husband says you can make all this serial killer business go away.”
“I can pin it on anyone at any time,” I tell her because I can. It can all be swept under the rug within minutes. But that’s up to Hope and if she’s ready for it. There’s a part of her that has an ego, one that wants to be seen and fawned over in a way that she can watch from the shadows. It’s not like her real life as a sculptor, where people demand her to take credit in the spotlight. This she can admire from afar.
Lena bites her bottom lip, and I figure that’s who Hope gets the habit from. “Please just look after my girl,” she whispers and then pulls me in for a hug.
Pain immediately flares in my gut, but I make sure not to wince or flinch. At first, I don’t know what to do. I don’t think my mother ever hugged me. I’m sure there were times I wanted her to when I watched other families with envy. But I’d never received this kind of love.
I wrap an arm around her, and a tiny, fragmented part of me from when I was a boy returns. It was a part of me that I released when I let my own mother go. And it’s suddenly clear why Hope cares what her mother thinks—because her mother is loving and good. Kind and fair. In that moment, I decide I want to do right by Lena Love as well.
She pulls away with a smile, and an unsettling feeling stirs in my stomach. Is this what it might’ve felt like to have a loving mother?
And I can’t help but wonder if I had, would I have turned out any different? Probably. But I wouldn’t have wanted any path that didn’t lead me to Hope.
“Welcome to the family then, I guess,” she says with a small smile. “Though, I hope you know what you’ve signed up for. Everyone is a little unhinged around here.” She laughs as she leads me down the hallway again. The house is beautiful, and it’s filled with so many of Hope’s sculptures. I wonder if her mother will ever proudly display the morbid, grotesque ones. If not, I’ll make sure to display each one of them proudly in my home.