Destroyed(48)

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.