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.
A chill darted down my back.
Why exactly did you come back?
Fox’s silver eyes entered my mind again, tugging me against my will, bringing me back to finish what we started.
My hands clenched, but I forced myself to smile sweetly. My skinny jeans, suede boots, and grey shirt were a polar opposite of the monstrosity I showed up in last night. At least all my extremities were covered and not on show to gawk at.
“She isn’t coming. Just me.” When he didn’t open the door wide enough to let me pass, I snapped, “Let me in.”
He shook his head, slouching against the frame. “Nuh uh. Club doesn’t open for another eight hours. Unless you’re a VIP who has access to the facilities prior to opening, you’re shit outta luck. Come back when the moon rises if you want to get laid by a champion.” He thrust his h*ps like an ignoramus. “Unless you want a freebie here and now?”
I rolled my eyes. “I would rather stab myself in the eye.”
He clutched his chest dramatically, staggering as if I’d shot him. “Cruel bitch. You sure know how to wound a guy.”
Standing as straight as possible, I demanded, “Call Obsidian Fox. He’ll let me in. I guarantee it.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I flinched as the silver chain around my stomach pinched my flesh.
I’d honoured Fox’s command to keep it on. I’d been tempted to find a pair of pliers and tear the jewellery off, but if my plan worked, I needed it. It was yet another weapon in my arsenal. My temper being my first artillery. My tongue was ready to give that man a lashing.
He needed to know just what I thought of him. And how I would not put up with his bullshit.
He’d promised me two hundred thousand dollars. I wanted my daughter to survive, and he was my only hope.
The bouncer scowled. “He’s not to be disturbed.” He pointed to the sky with a chubby finger. “The bossman sleeps like the nocturnal. No sluts till club hours.”
It took every inch of my self-control not to pull the small blade free from my hair and stab him in his jugular. “Just call him, will you?”
He crossed his muscular arms, shaking his head. “Nope.”
There was only one thing left to do. Pulling my large handbag around to my front, I rummaged inside, pushing aside an extra set of underwear and spare blouse. Pulling out the black t-shirt I’d stolen from Fox’s wardrobe, I found the embroidered silver emblem and shoved the whole thing in the bouncer’s face. “What’s this?”