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Rachel

I woke refreshed from the best nap I’d had in years. I knew there was a chance I was in danger, but I never felt more secure than I did when I was in my childhood home.

I was never comfortable growing up here, but there was an instinct that home meant safety.

As a young child, this place was my sanctuary.

I had outgrown my parents, but this had once been my safe haven, the place where I was safe from harm.

Whenever I was hurt, I came home to be tended.

If I was sad, I came to my parents – my dad – for comfort.

Teenage Rachel may have hated it, but toddler Rachel, child Rachel, the Rachel who didn’t know any different, had always been taken care of here.

Scraped knees were mended here. The monsters under the bed had been chased away here.

This was the only home I had ever known.

Home was where things were made better, and I was home.

Even if I knew deep down I no longer belonged here, and this was no longer my home.

I reached for my phone out of instinct, and cursed when I remembered I had left it at Dante’s place – which I suppose was a good thing, as it meant he couldn’t track me through that.

I had also gone out and inspected the bike thoroughly and hadn’t found any sort of tracking device on there. Which is a thought that had occurred to me just as I had been drifting off for a nap, shaking me awake completely as blinding panic set in. But it seemed I was in the clear there too.

Which meant I was free to enjoy this moment of luxury.

Free to wake without a child immediately demanding my attention until the moment they fell asleep.

Free to stretch my arms over my head and not be restricted by restraints.

Free to enjoy the moment of peace before I went downstairs to join the one-man firing squad that was my mother.

There was no way she had sat and made dinner without giving me a second thought.

She was either going to give me the silent treatment, or she was going to give me hell.

I was never sure which one I dreaded worse. But right now… right now, I was just free.

I wasn’t selfish Rachel, or nanny Rachel, or old lady Rachel, or new step mum Rachel. I was just Rachel. And I liked the ring that had to it.

Just Rachel.

It was at that moment that my stomach let out the loudest rumble, and I realised just Rachel still hadn’t had any more than a few bites to eat since the service station, and I was beginning to feel sick with starvation.

With a sigh, I threw the covers back and slid out of bed, feeling more and more like the rebellious teenager with every step I made towards the kitchen.

I deliberately hadn’t changed out of the clothes I had arrived in. It was immature, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed annoying my mother, and it was hard to shake the habit of a lifetime. There were worse crimes than bad fashion sense. We knew that better than most.

It had always been the same growing up. I always annoyed my parents one way or another.

And I hadn’t found it in me to care if I’m being completely honest. They were embarrassed by the most stupid things that it bordered on ridiculous and created nothing but resentment within me.

I wasn’t even a bad child. I pushed boundaries, and certainly didn’t abide by all their rules, but for the most part I knew how to behave.

But with all their criticism came the need inside me to live up to the reputation.

If they thought they had a bad daughter, I’d give them a bad daughter.

I heard my mother putting plates on the dining table, and hurried my step, an offer of help on my lips.

“Sit yourself down. Dinner is ready. I have an awful headache, so you’ll understand if I eat and retire for the night.” Her lips tightened as she looked at my clothes, but she didn’t say a word about them.

“If that’s what you want to do,” I said simply, not bothering to argue.

I wasn’t all that bothered about spending the evening with her, either.

It was nice to see her, nice to see that she was managing to live with the events that happened without completely breaking down, but other than the basic welfare check, I had no more desire to know her than I did when I lived here.

I did as she asked, and took the same seat I had always had, which was to her right.

She sat at one end of the table, facing the window, and my dad would be at the other end, facing into the room.

Because of the way this room was positioned, there was a window opposite me, which gave a view of the vast back garden my parents owned.

Unfortunately for me, it was dark, and I could barely see a thing.

My mum placed the plate of casserole on my placemat and took her seat, folding her napkin over her lap, and held her hand out for me.

“Mum—”

“Don’t be selfish, Rachel. Hand.”

I gave her my hand, but I didn’t close my eyes.

Of course she did.

“Dear Lord, thank you for the food we are about to eat today. Thank you for your ever-present grace and love. Help us to stay grounded in your teachings and practice them in all that we do. Give us the strength to show understanding and kindness to those around us, even in the most trying times. Help us to be patient with ourselves and our peers, remembering that you are always with us. Amen.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most pointed fucking grace I’ve ever heard in my li —

“Rachel!”

“Amen. And thank you for bringing me back to such a welcome and loving flock.”

“Just eat, Rachel.”

“Please don’t interrupt me and the Lord. I’m thanking him for my blessings.”

“Eat!”

I smothered a grin and waited until my mother had taken her first bite, and then I tucked in myself.

The first spoon to my lips was all I needed for the beast to unleash.

I thought I had been hungry walking into the dining room, but I had no idea just how ravenous I was until faced with a full bowl of food.

I grabbed a hot bread roll, lathered butter on it and used it as a spoon to shove casserole into my mouth.

When the bread was done, I grabbed another, and another.

I used the last crust of bread to scoop portions of casserole onto my spoon and threw it into my mouth.

I even picked the bowl up at one point and tipped it, making it easier to fill the spoon to capacity.

I had been so engrossed in getting as much to eat as quick as I could; I hadn’t noticed my mother put down her cutlery and eye me cautiously.

Just as I was scraping the last bits of gravy out of the bowl and into my mouth, the hunger gave way to reality, and I smiled out of embarrassment as my surroundings came back to me.

“Sorry about that. It’s been a while since I had a home cooked meal.”

“Are you clean?” My mother asked, her lips a thin, tight line.

I blinked at her for a second, shock ricochetting through my body. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“I don’t want to argue with you. Are you clean? Show me your arms.” She reached out for my wrist, and I pulled away sharply.

“I shall do no such thing.”

“Show me your arms, Rachel, or leave.”

“You’re being ridiculous. I never injected. I took cocaine. You sniff cocaine, mum. Besides, that’s in the past.”

“You’re white as a ghost. You’ve not stopped shaking since you got here, and you’ve eaten that casserole like a stray dog. Show. Me. Your. Arms.”

“It’s been a rough few days, that’s all. And fuck you for assuming the worst.”

“I assume the worst because all you’ve ever given me is the worst!” My mother screamed, standing up so hard her chair tipped backwards.

The veil had slipped.

“In case you hadn’t realised, I’ve been doing pretty fucking good for myself since then.

Not that you’d know, because you never bothered to check.

You never bothered to ask! I had to pass a drug test to get my job, mother.

I had to have regular drug tests to keep my job.

Hell, I had to have a drugs test to leave the country and come back to England.

I am fucking clean! I’m not part of that crowd anymore! ”

“You should never have been part of that crowd in the first place!”

“Well, I fucking was!” I finally snapped, standing up myself. “And I’m sorry for that, but it happened and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life feeling bad about it! I could get on my knees right now and apologise to every cunt I harmed, but it’s not going to change the past!”

“Your dad is spending the rest of his life in prison because—”

“Because of a decision he made. Get that through your thick fucking head, mother,” I jabbed at my temples with my index finger. “I didn’t ask him to take the blame—”

“What else was he supposed to do? His only child, addicted to drugs at seventeen, had a string of petty crimes against her, a criminal record waiting to catch up with her! You threw your life away at fifteen, Rachel, and when it got too much for you, you took your dad’s place in freedom and let him take your place in jail! ”

“Oh, fuck off! You had no idea what Alex put me through, what he did to me—”

“You killed him, Rachel! Whatever he did to you, it did not warrant you stabbing him to death!”

“You weren’t fucking there! You don’t know what he did to me, the things he said, the things he used ! Your tiny brain could not comprehend the evil in some people. So yes, I stabbed him, and the only regret I have is that his autopsy says almost severed and not fucking headless!”

“What are you?” my mother whispered, shaking her head. “You flew off to America the day after your dad was sentenced, and every time you’ve been back, you’ve been in trouble.”

“How the fuck would you know? I have never been back here, never so much as—”

“People talk , Rachel! You think I haven’t heard about you terrorising his family?”