What Nobody Else Sees

chapter fifty three

When she got back to the station, she was met with applause. Zack clapped her on the back, muttering something about a job well done. Hollis was still in a daze, her ears ringing with every scream that had left Callie's bloody lips. She had done well. People thought she was successful, intelligent, everything her mother said she wasn't.

Hollis was trying not to think about the woman. This wasn't about her.

There was a knife sticking out of her shoulder. There was a snake on her hand. There were flames on her legs.

"Hey, where's Lee at?" she asked over the chatter.

. Owens looked up from her desk for the first time. Her eyes were teary, though Hollis wasn't sure why. "He's back there with Mrs. Hall. I believe he's waiting on you."

Hollis couldn't say she was looking forward to seeing Callie. She had no idea what kind of state she would be in. The last time Hollis saw her, it seemed like she had at least stopped shouting.

But Hollis was brave. That was what everyone was saying. Brave woman, strong woman, the sane daughter. So, owning up to every title, she stood up taller and shuffled past the small group towards the back.

Her mother used to read her the story of the prodigal son. In Virginia's version, the son died at the end, a sacrifice for his sins.

It was quiet in the holding cells, save for gentle murmurings and the occasional cry. She pushed open the door, looking in silently.

The cell door was wide open, Callie and Mark facing each other from either side. There was a distance between them. Neither had ever liked touch. "He hated you, towards the end. He honestly thought you were a home wrecker, strange as it sounds," Callie said, sighing. "That night, he accused me of cheating, to my face for the first time. But it wasn't me. He left his ring in the truck, I guess to save both him and Donna some guilt."

Mark was leaning forward in his chair, head bowed. "I'm really sorry, Cal. I wish I had been there, I could've stopped all this..."

He was right. Had Mark been there, the arrest likely wouldn't have been made.

Hollis knocked on the door. She watched as Callie's reaching hand fell to her lap, as her eyes widened in honest fear.

Mark stood. "What the hell were you thinking?" he spat out.

"Mark-," Callie started, reaching once more.

"Everything's fine, it's going to be fine," Hollis interrupted, gripping the cuff of her sleeves. "I know this looks bad, I-I'm sorry, I'm really sorry-,"

"Can you stop and explain?" Mark said, agitated.

The woods had been dark. The woods had been bright. The woods were not the same, she was not fighting for life in these woods, not like when she was fourteen being held at knifepoint by her own mother.

No, someone else was fighting for their life in those woods.

She was confused, disorganized. She needed help. Her mother needed help. Callie needed help.

Help never came, but hell did.

"Can we talk about this outside?" Hollis interrupted. With a pointed look, she added, "Please."

Callie locked eyes with her. Hollis didn't like eye contact, but she always tried to make an exception for Callie.

There was blood smeared on her face and bloodshot eyes with no sympathy.

"I'm sorry," Hollis whispered, hardly hearing her own voice.

Callie's lips turned up, the ghost of a bitter, hollow smile. She closed her eyes. "I'm not