His hands release from her neck, and he stands. I spin away as he tucks himself into his trousers, and as soon as I hear his boots thudding on the hardwood, I run to my mother’s side.
“Leave the cunt to die,” he spits at me from the doorway.
My hands shake as I smooth my mother’s hair. I don’t dare look at him.
He will leave. He will leave.
Please leave.
“I said, leave the cunt to die!” His hand fists my hair, dragging me from the bed.
“Nina,” my mother croaks.
I scream out in pain, feeling the roots of my hair clinging to my scalp.
He pulls me to the top of the stairs, hanging me over the top step by my hair. “I don’t pay for a little brat to interrupt me. Fucking apologise!”
No.
He lurches my body forward, and I force my hands out to save myself, but he doesn’t let me go, wrenching me back by my hair again. “Apologise!” he grunts.
I shake my head once, and then I am floating. In the seconds before my face hits the wooden steps, I pinch my eyes closed and pray it will knock me out—anything to take me away from this hell.
I hear him leave and my mother’s cries. Her red dressing gown brushes my cheek as she steps over me and rushes for the door. I pull myself up and sit on the bottom step, adrenaline the only thing keeping me upright.
I did it.
I protected her.
“What were you thinking?!” my mother cries. “Are you going to pay the bills this week? Keep the house heated?!” She stands in front of me, her hair a mess and her eyes wild. I look just like her, but I hope to be everything she isn’t when I grow up.
“Get up!” She pulls on my arm, and I hiss.
“Ow, Mum, that hurts.”
“You know nothing about pain, little girl. One day you’ll grow up and realise the real world isn’t a fucking fairy tale. It’s about time you started learning.”
She drags me to the kitchen and over to the front door. “You think you can be big and brave?” She pushes me over the threshold, sending me tumbling to the asphalt. My knees sting as they scrape along the cold gravel. “Then you find the money for the bills. I can’t feed the both of us. You forget that you need me more than I need you, Nina. It’s about time you grew up!”
“Mum!” I panic.
The door slams shut, and I shake my head, wiping the stray tear from my cheek and pulling myself up off the dirty ground.
She thinks money will help us survive, but what she doesn’t see is that what she is doing to earn it is slowly killing us both.
It was much later in life that I learnt to leave before she could hurt me.
1
Nina
Never in mywildest dreams could I have comprehended how my life would turn out. I’m a firm believer that luck is the one thing between myself and some of the most unfortunate people in this world. Yet as I stand, hands on hips, chest heaving, glancing around at my studio—I know, hand on heart, that luck has absolutely nothing to do with my success.
My studio may have materialised under fortunate events—a case of being in the right place at the right time. But it was the years I spent working late nights in our local bar that allowed me to take the opportunity when it presented itself. Every penny I ever saved went into this studio, and although I might live month to month and down to the penny to keep it, I’m still damn proud of myself and what I’ve achieved.
It’s Friday noon, and I’ve just finished my second class of the day. My girls are working tirelessly to nail our routine for the showcase we have coming up, and as promised, I’ve given them some extra time for their lunch today. It gives me a chance to be alone for a while. To gather my thoughts and let myself go in my safe haven.
It’s a large open space with smooth cream wood floors. Sunlight reflects off them as it streams in through the five Victorian sash windows. A barre adorns the entire length of the mirrored wall, which stands opposite the windows, making the room look much bigger than it is. In a small rectangular bay at the back of the room sits a magnificent, sleek black grand piano. It was here when I viewed the building and was never removed. It suits the studio, so I never complained.
