Illusions (The Missing #1) by A. M. Irvin Read Free Book Online Page B

enough to miss my mother, even though I had no reason to.
    It didn’t take long for me to be thankful for the hours when she was away.
    Mother loved her job for reasons that hurt the young girl I had been and would always be. She’d come home later and tell me about Chelsea with her lovely red hair and adorable face. Or she’d talk about Douglas with his cherub cheeks and infectious smile.
    Pretty children.
    Perfect children.
    She loved each and every one of them.
    She made sure that I knew that.
    But for those few hours before she came home, I could wander through the house and make as much noise as I wanted to. I’d turn on the TV and watch General Hospital at full volume just because I could. I’d eat bar-b-que potato chips and drink milk from the carton.
    Simple things that wouldn’t matter to most people. But for me they were moments of bliss that I treasured.
    I had been smiling when I walked inside.
    “Get your hair out of your face, Nora!”
    I had jumped and dropped my bag on the floor. My mother was standing in the living room, straightening books on the shelf.
    “Mother. I didn’t know you were here. Your car wasn’t out front,” I said, pushing my hair back. Wanting to curl into a ball and fade away.
    “Rosie’s borrowing it. Her Volvo is being inspected.” Clipped. Harsh. She spoke with no love. No joy. “It’s Thursday. You need to get changed. I laid your clothes out on your bed.” She never looked at me. Her back was all I could see of her.
    It was Thursday.
    I shivered.
    “But Rosie’s borrowing the car,” I pointed out. Then wished I hadn’t said anything. I knew better than to question Mother. I knew better than to talk too much lest she focus on the things I wished she wouldn’t. I invited her criticism and ire when I spoke.
    I needed to remain invisible.
    Unseen.
    “She’s going to drive us to the church. She wanted to come this week. Isn’t that nice? She’s such a God fearing young woman. Beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. We’re lucky to have her in our lives.”
    Lucky.
    So very, very lucky.
    I turned to go upstairs and stopped. Mother was watching me with a strange look in her eyes. It wasn’t her normal anger. She looked thoughtful. Pensive.
    “There should have been more. This house should have been full of voices and tiny laughter. It’s what we wanted.”
    I held my breath. It was almost as if she forgot I was there. Her eyes were far away and lost. Something about her expression almost made me feel bad for her. She seemed . . . sad.
    I thought, for a brief moment, about reaching out to her. My fingers twitched, and I wanted to touch Mother. I wanted to hug her and to have her hug me back. I imagined what it would feel like to have her hold me after all this time.
    But then her eyes cleared and her face hardened. Her lips curled in derision as she looked away from me. “But you made sure that didn’t happen, didn’t you, Nora? You ruined it all.”
    I had no idea what she was talking about, and I didn’t dare ask. I wanted to. Because I knew that whatever her words meant, they were the roots of her hatred.
    Though I was terrified to know the truth. I was scared of her honesty. Yet I felt an irrational guilt that this miserable life that we both endured was entirely my fault.
    I stared at my hands clasped in front of me, hating the fine tremors that I could never seem to control. “I’ll go change,” I said quietly. Retreating. Far away from her hateful words and even more hateful gaze.
    I all but ran up the stairs and closed myself in my room.
    It was Thursday.
    I hated Thursdays.
    I looked out my bedroom window at the thick branches of the elm tree just beyond the glass and wished I were rebellious. I wished I were impulsive. If I were then I’d lift the sash and climb out onto the window ledge. I’d hook my leg around the closest branch and hoist my body onto the sturdy trunk.
    Then I’d climb all the way down to the ground. And once my feet