Page 9

No, he wasn't cruel likehim.
Him.
I rememberedhim.
“Dom, she is remembering—” Master said as the shaking stopped.
I stared at the ceiling. It was the wrong colour.
White wasn't the right colour.
No. It was missing something.
The cracks and the screaming stain.
My eyes closed, and there was only black.
It was pitch black, and it engulfed me.
Part II
Chapter 7
Maeve
8 Years Old
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and something worse underneath—like the air was choking me.
I clutched Bear so hard that I saw his stitching stretch. Daddy didn’t look like Daddy anymore. His skin had turned the colour of old newspaper, and his voice rasped like wind through dead leaves.
“Daddy loves you. I’m sorry that I need to go, Maeve.”
I climbed onto the bed, pressing Bear between us like a shield. His ribs felt sharp under the thin hospital gown. I remembered how they used to shake with laughter when he carried me piggyback through the park. Now, they barely moved at all.
The machines beeped while my mum sobbed.
“I love you,” I whispered into the hollow of his throat, already knowing this was the last warmth I’d ever steal from him.
There would be no more playing, laughter and trips to the park. The way he spoke to me and Bear, no one did that except my Daddy. I tried to be brave but began to cry. They told me Daddy had to leave.
“Don’t go, Daddy. Don’t leave us,” I sniffed against the pale blue pyjamas he wore. “Please.”
When his arm fell away, it took my childhood with it.
He left me with Bear.
And my mother.
Maeve
13 Years Old
“Mum? I’m home,” I said after opening the door to our apartment. I sighed in relief when there was no answer.
I would wait five more years until I turned eighteen, or if I couldn’t make it until then, I would wait until I was sixteen. It took me a long time to stop making excuses for my mum, but when I started high school, the observations I made put things into perspective. My mother was sick.
I closed the door and stuffed the keys into my ragged school bag. After my dad died, everything changed. My mum couldn’t cope and began to drink. When that didn’t work, she took drugs. She was angry all the time and took it out on me.