Destroyed

I looked toward the door where Clara and I shared a room. We both had single beds, pushed against opposite walls. When we first moved in, even though it was against the landlord’s rules, I’d asked what paint she’d like to decorate with.

Probably a bad idea as I now lived in a purple and pink room with horses stencilled on the walls.

“I know the feeling.” My arms ached to cuddle her and apologise for last night. Throwing Clue’s dress on the arm of a dining room chair, I muttered, “I’ve only been gone twenty-four hours, but it feels like an eternity.”

Clue rubbed my arm. “I must admit, I missed you. Why did you go and talk to him, Zelly? What did he promise to make you stay?”

Promises.

Every promise Fox made he broke.

“Baby?” a masculine voice grumbled from the doorframe of Clue’s room. Ben stood dressed in a pair of blue boxer shorts with polished onyx skin and tight black curls.

I shot Clue a glare. “He’s staying here?”

Clue moved to Ben’s side, fitting into him like the matching puzzle piece. “I wanted to ask you. Ben’s between homes at the moment and needed a place to crash for the week.” Her eyes grew round, pleading with me not to get angry. “I figured with you gone…I didn’t want to be alone. I love Clara like my own, but if something happened—”

Something like rushing her to the hospital or another episode. My heart sank. I’d let them both down.

I held up a hand. “It’s okay. Really.”

Ben gave me a sweet smile. Vague swelling puffed up one cheek, but the deep ebony of his skin meant I couldn’t see any bruises from his fight at Obsidian.

Obsidian.

My heart rate picked up thinking about Fox. He seemed inhuman. He needed help.

All day, I’d flipped between never wanting to see him again, to wanting to torture him as much as he’d tortured me.

A plan formed loosely in my head, mainly thanks to Oscar. I’d asked him what dobycha meant, and he shrugged but tossed me his phone. Thanks to Google translate I found out what had Fox called me.

Prey!

The scalding heat of anger kept me company all the way home. The nerve of him. The egotistical nerve.

Prey. Me! Fox thought I was weak and malleable. He thought he could play with me like a cocky killer who had no mortal enemies.

Well, he’d made an enemy in me. And I had claws.

At least I could thank him for one thing. The Hazel I thought I’d lost—the woman who always won—was back, and I was ready to fight.

Fight for my daughter. Fight for myself. Just fucking fight.

Clue’s eyes fell to my throat, frowning at the extra chain resting on top of the silver star. “Where did you get that?” She disengaged from Ben. Her hand came out to poke and prod. Plucking Fox’s t-shirt from my frame, she asked, “What happened, Zel? You seem… withdrawn.” Cocking her head, she said, “No, that’s not right. You seem pissed off.”

Ben came closer, smiling crookedly. “Uh oh, I know that look.” Holding up his finger, he said, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” He chuckled. “What did that bastard do?” His tone stayed jovial and upbeat, but his face fell when I didn’t reply.

My nostrils flared as a slight twinge between my legs reminded me exactly what that bastard did.

Fox’s snowy eyes popped into my head, full of arrogance, but also a strange contradiction of helplessness.

Clue sucked in a gasp. “Oh, my God, did he hurt you?” She grabbed my hand. “What did he do?”

The fear of being hurt by a man ran deep for both of us. The difference was I bottled mine deep, forcing it to brew with all the other bad memories I’d rather not think about.

Clue, on the other hand, slipped back into the broken creature I’d saved the night I found her. She would never know what happened between Fox and me. I didn’t need her fearing for my sanity or running over there with the police.

Quickly shaking my head, I muttered, “He didn’t do anything to me that I won’t pay him back for.” Stroking her cheek, I smiled. “I came to see Clara, but I’m going back tomorrow. We have a new agreement. One that allows me to spend days with him and nights here.”

So help him if he doesn’t agree to my terms. I’d make him wish he never set eyes on me.

Clue opened her mouth, but Ben draped an arm around her shoulders. “Your friend has a plan. Let’s hear about it in the morning, baby doll. I have to be at the job site in a few hours.”

My body went from lithe and strong to utter fear lockdown. Fox asked me last night what my trigger was.

My trigger was so stupid it was inconsequential. A pet name shouldn’t have the power to hurtle me from safety to hell.

But it did.

Baby doll sent me to a pit of darkness I could never remove from my soul. Clara had been the result of my one and only—until last night—sexual intercourse. But there were many means of inappropriate touching. So many other ways to break a nine-year-old’s spirit.

Baby doll.

It’d been crooned with false love and accompanied with rancid fingers and breath.

I’d learned to run when a man softened his voice and murmured those words.

I’d learned to kill when they trapped me, so I couldn’t flee.

Black clouds swamped my mind, but rather than curling into a ball like I used to, now I just shoved the clouds back. Back into the recesses of my compartmentalized brain where locks and chains kept my bad history archived and secure.

Clue stood frozen to the spot. She didn’t know much about my past, but she knew my issues with those two words. She’d seen me explode and almost shank a man in a bar for groping me and whispering, “Can I buy you a drink, baby doll,” in my ear.

Ben stood there, looking between us. “Did I say something wrong?” His large, black eyes held genuine remorse.

My spine unlocked and I slouched. Flashing a reassuring smile, I murmured, “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. But please, call Clue anything you want, but avoid that one pet name. I’d really appreciate it.”

He swallowed, frowning. “Um, sure. Consider it done.”

Walking past Clue, I grabbed her hand and squeezed before disappearing into the shadowed world of my bedroom and shutting the door.

I woke to sticky hands gathering my hair to plait it. I smiled, heart winging as I opened my eyes.

The epitome of a gorgeous girl sat on the edge of my bed. Her long, chocolate hair stood up in clumps with frizz from her pillow. Her apple cheeks were flushed from happiness. Everything about her screamed healthy and strong—but it was all a lie.

“I thought you weren’t going to be here for a little while. Aunty Clue said you had to help someone.” Her eyes sparkled as she tugged a lock of my hair, twisting it into a braid.

I scooted upright before grabbing her with tight arms and flipping her onto her back. She squealed in my ear, giggling as I tickled her.

“Stop! Mummy, stop it.” Her laughter was rhapsody to my ears.

But then she coughed.

Scrambling upright, I hoisted her into a sitting position as her face turned purple scarily fast. Her dark eyes bugged as her throat closed.

No. No. No.

Shoving her aside, I dashed across the small space of our bedroom and grabbed the emergency high dose inhaler. I’d told her that it was a special formula the doctors gave us for her asthma. In reality, it had some sort of trial drug only available to those who met a certain criteria. Unfortunately, we’d only been able to meet that criteria once. Thanks to me cleaning out my bank account and handing over every scrimped penny and saved dollar I’d earned.

If it wasn’t for Clue paying my share of the rent until I could find another job, I would’ve had to file for bankruptcy.

Holding the back of her head, I placed the inhaler in her mouth and Clara let me press the depressor. She sucked in hungrily.

Slowly the medicine worked its magic and a rosy colour replaced the blue-purple ringing her lips. Giving me a wobbly smile, she hiccupped once. “Sorry.”

My stomach flipped, hating her apology—wishing I could give her a solution.

Fighting my trembling limbs and calling fate every dirty cuss word I could think of, I said, “I must remember that you hate tickling so much. You’ll go to any extreme to avoid it.”

She giggled once, her lungs rattling as the attack faded, leaving her short of breath. “Yep. You really should know by now. Your tickling sucks.”

I plastered an annoyed look on my face. “Well, I’ll just have to find another way to torture you.”

Her eyes flared wide, then we laughed, bowing our heads together. My heart ripped out of my chest and lay thudding, bloody and dying in my daughter’s hands. She literally held my every happiness in her failing body.

How am I going to survive without you? How will I find the courage to tell you you’re leaving me?

Fox popped into my head, shoving back the weakness and sorrow. His eyes, filled with his own demons, helped give me the strength to stay together. Just the thought of granting retribution for what he did gave me the fire I needed to nurse my strength to keep fighting.

“I wish I didn’t have to go to school today,” Clara moaned, snuggling into me and making my heart skip a beat. I rested my chin on her head and rocked, inhaling her fruity shampoo and soft, innocent smell. “You like school. Didn’t you tell me Mrs. Anderson allows you to pretty much pick what you want to work on?” Like me, Clara had the uncanny ability of photographic memory.

She seemed to be inattentive in class, but she absorbed everything. It was both a blessing and a curse as it meant I couldn’t get away with anything. She sensed lies as easily as I did, but she had a knack at reading further. Almost as if her eyes saw past the restraints of a body and saw right into a person’s soul.

No matter what I tried to keep from her, she knew. She always knew.

“She’s super nice. I like her. We’re designing a sculpture of Romeo and Juliet today.”

I ignored the sculpture comment as it reminded me too much of Fox and his crazy collections all around his home. I frowned. “Isn’t a tragic love story a bit too heavy for a class of eight-year-olds?”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re mature, mummy. I know about death and stuff.”

I froze, but she didn’t notice. Her body bounced up and down, wriggling out of my grip. “I’m going to use a dead rose that I found on the sidewalk and dip it in glue to make it hard and then I’m going to paint it black and red and then…” she reeled off her project in intimate detail, charging around the room. Shedding her pink My Little Pony pyjamas, she diligently dressed in the drab greys and greens of her school uniform.

I couldn’t do anything but sit and stare at the whirlwind of life that was my daughter.

It wasn’t until I stood at the school gate, watching Clara disappear amongst a sea of matching uniforms, that the sharp pang of loss made me double over.

Rushing away from the school grounds, I hid in a bush as I balled my hands and shoved them in my mouth.

I screamed and screamed until my lungs ached, and the helplessness was expunged.

My body racked with silent sobs, purging the mourning already blackening my soul.

Only once I could breathe without wanting to murder someone did I step from my prison of brambles and plan my next step.

Clara would be occupied for the next seven hours. Clue had agreed to collect her after school. That meant I had a full twelve hours to return to Fox and show him exactly what I thought of his broken, secretive, non-touching ridiculousness.

It was time to make him pay.

“You again.” The bouncer with the face between a bulldog and a shark eyed me up and down. “Where’s sugar tits?”

Fox’s mansion loomed above me. The gargoyles and block work somehow looked more menacing in sunlight than it did in the dark. It spoke of abandonment, of misplacement. No other house in the family affluent suburb looked so disturbing.