Not again.
A bullet in her head.
Not again.
See Benji’s smile.
No, no, no, no.
Sobbing, shutting down, I feel myself losing the fight for resilience. For happiness. For the good things. I recall a time when Clay Butcher asked me what I had tried and failed at. I can answer him now.‘I failed them, Sir. I failed them.’
My muscles are rigid, my face buried in my hands, my throat clenching as I expel the helpless despair.
The hospital room dissolves.
It’s quiet in my mind, inside a memory of a caravan. Of a little girl hiding behind a wall, peering around at the same police officer who comes by every Tuesday at midday. Sheis talking to my mum, who sways in place, hungover and frail. I look down—I’m the little girl, wearing one kitten slipper. The other is lost. Which means I must be around four or five. I remember them, remember stuffing both feet into the solo slipper and hopping on one leg, making a game.
Yes, I must be five.
“Get it together. Snap out of it, Ashlee.”
My mum nods. “Okay.”
“Do it for your daughter,” the officer says.
“I will.”
I smile because Mum said she will.Yes!Maybe today we can make a fairy garden. She can be so much fun when she is happy.
My mum closes the door and stumbles to the top drawer in the kitchen. The cutlery drawer. I am about to walk out of my hiding spot when she pulls out the magic knife. The one I’m not allowed to see her use.
I freeze mid-step.
She slides down the cupboard, hitting the vinyl floor, slouched out of view. I see only her bare feet peeking out from around the counter. I hear her breath catch, then her toes curl in tight.
I blink.
Snap out of it.
The officer said.
Snap out of it.
For her.
For me, Mummy.
For them.
I lift my head.
Snap out of it, Fawn.
Back in the hospital room, I’m surrounded by three nurses and two officers, all giving me space butsharing gentle words I can’t hear. Don’t need to. There is nothing they can say, no words of support. They don’t know me.
My palms meet the floor. I pant, catching my breath, and push to my feet. Dragging in air like it’s hot and harsh and sharp, I growl, “Take me to Eleanor.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
