Ink Deep

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Briony whipped off her headset, logged off the game, and headed to the bathroom. “Mom, I’ll be there in a minute.” Her mom was talking on the phone—to her father, she assumed—and just waved at her.

Using the bathroom took a minute, and then she headed back to the kitchen. Her mom’s voice caused her to stop and listen.

“I really do wish you would come to lunch with us occasionally, Tim. Yes, I know you feel guilty every time you see her, but she is your daughter.” There was silence as her mom moved about the kitchen, phone to her ear. Briony was out of sight and stood there listening, unable to move.

“I know she looks like one of the accident victims from those bad sci-fi movies you watch, Troma or something? But she is still your daughter, and she deserves to see her father occasionally. Why can you watch it on TV but not come see her?” The pleading tone of her voice carried down the hall. Briony heard the muttered “uh-uhs” of someone listening, then, “I’m worried about her. All people see are her horrific scars. No one will ever see her.”

The words seared into her brain, and she couldn’t handle hearing anymore. Briony backed up to the bathroom and made noise walking down the hall. “So you said Indian today?” she announced as she came around the corner. She stopped at the entry to the kitchen, watching her mother move about setting up the table as if it were a dinner party and not lunch with her daughter, something they did about three times a week. Her curvy form, well-endowed chest, and peaches-and-cream complexion made Briony wonder once more if she would have looked like that if the accident had never happened.

With a sharp shake of her head, she reminded herself that those thoughts were never allowed. They led to her drinking too much and taking too many painkillers, and she refused to let the world beat her, especially in that manner. Trying not to let the impact of the words show, she forced a smile as she walked in.

“Smells good, Mom. What did you get?”

Susan Carmichael's head tilted sideways to look at Briony, a frown creasing her face. The few random streaks of silver in her strawberry hair made her look like a worried angel.

“I don’t understand why you like to waste your time with that silly game.”