They don’t.
“Leave it, Mase, it’s none of your business!” I head for the kitchen, knowing I need to calm down and put some space between us.
It’s only because he cares, Nina.
They all care. It’s my biggest war, and I fight it against myself: To defend someone who doesn’t care to people who only want what’s best for me.
“Fair, it’s not my business. But you’re going to run your studio into the ground if you don’t start paying more off your business loan soon, you’re struggling to keep your head above water as it is.”
The sharp slap of my hand against his cheek resounds off every inch of the penthouse. We stand toe to toe, his nostrils flaring as his rage seeps out of the red on his face.
“Fuck you!” I roar, tears stinging my eyes. “Mason, by all means, fuck me. Fuck every inch of me until I have nothing else left to give, but stay the fuck out of my life. My studio. My business.”
He scoffs, looking up the stairs then back to me again. “So you’ll give me your body, but that’s it, that’s all I get? I guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
He drops his head to his chest the moment the words are out. And that’s the thing with words; once they are spoken, they can’t be unheard, forgotten.
“My mother did that,” I whisper, a tear running into the seam of my lips. “She never lay a finger on me.” Not herself anyway. “But sometimes, I wish she had—it probably would have hurt less. But no, she’s just like you.” I tip my chin. “She used her words to break me.”
“Nina, I didn’t—”
“Leave me the fuck alone.”
I run up the stairs, bypassing his bedroom and rush to the room Lucy and Megan had stayed in last night. Crawling under the sheets, I let the pain in my chest bleed out through old wounds—memories from my childhood at the centre of my thoughts.
I drift off to sleep hours later, the pillow wet with tears, and my heart empty.
11
Nina
I pullmy tattered blanket up over my head and press play on my iPod. It’s not mine. It’s my best friend, Lucy’s. She said she would be in trouble for giving it to me, but she thought it might drown out the shouting.
I call it shouting, but I think it’s something else. It sounds like a strangled cry, grunts and groans that seep through the thin walls of our damp house.
She tells me to stay in my room, not to come out until she comes to get me, but she never comes. And I never leave. Afraid that whatever is on the other side of the door will get me into trouble, or worse, take her away from me again. My mummy is all I have, and they already tried to take me once.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the banging starts. Rough groans and deep grunts flow past the music. Is she in pain? Should I help her?
A rush of cool liquid runs from my nose, pooling on the seam of my lips. I dab it with my finger finding blood.
Why is my nose bleeding…?
In a panic, I do something silly. Something I know I shouldn’t. I run for my mother. “Mummy, Mummy.” I push open her door, standing on the threshold unable to move, unable to look away. What is he doing to my mummy? His eyes find me first, a grim smile taking over his face as he stands behind her, hitting into her bottom.
“Get rid of the little fucker!” he shouts, making me flinch.
My mother’s eyes flare wide when she sees me. “Nina! Go now. What are you doing?”
Oh no, she’s mad at me.
“My nose.”
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, but it comes away clean. I frown at the paleness of my bony hand. My eyes lift back to my mother’s, but before they can find hers, a strong, calloused fist connects with my face.
“Nina!” My mother’s voice rings out as everything fades to black.
“Nina!”
