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Chapter 8 Part 1
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2024-10-29 19:42:56December 29th, 2012
Morning
“You totally have an egg!” Tami pulls back my hair like a child lifting their teacher’s skirt—only the ass is this blaring injury I just can’t seem to hide. I only have vague shape of myself in my sleeping monitor to try to smooth my bangs back over. At least, what’s left of them.
“I don’t have an egg.”
“Does it hurt?” I wish she’d just bugger off with that stupid grin as she sits there on her half-broken chair. She rocks backward and forward on it like a seesaw. It’s quite impressive, actually. I can’t wait to see her hit the deck.
“Of course, it hurts.”
“Oh, my lordy.” I watch her hands snap over her mouth. Something tells me I don’t want to turn around. Well. I was right. I shouldn’t have turned around.
“Sasha?”
I have half a mind to lie to any man walking up with a bouquet so absurd. “This is she.” Tami butts in. Almost a
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December 30th, 2012 Morning A corpse followed me in my dreams. An alive one. In a tattered cardigan with sunken eyes and matted red hair. She clawed at my heels as I tried to run. Grabbed me by the ankles. Stuck me with a needle and laughed as I sobbed. And a man stood by her side. Her companion. He put his hands on me. Tore me from my clothes. I screamed and I screamed, and nothing came out. When I wake up, my back is a little stiff. Mouth dry. Corner of my lips wet. I must be drooling. I should wipe it off. But I try. And try. And try. But there’s no feeling in my arm—I’m actually not sure that I can move it at all. Am I a cripple now? How on earth am I going to make a living typing away at work with one arm? This is bad. “Alright, alright, budge up a sec, will you?” I open my eyes. It hadn’t occurred to me just yet. James is staring straight into my eyes, hair a mess, face creased with sleep, ja
Foster Chapter 8 Part 3
December 31st, 2012 Morning I don’t think I’ve woken up so gently in quite some time. The wind is howling, whipping around the house like it will just pick us up and carry us off at any second. Now I know how Dorothy felt. Maybe I’ll get some nice new shoes like she did. Though, come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind waking up in some faraway land. A land where the neighbours don’t know me as Damon’s kid and I don’t have to spend each work day staring at him and just wishing I could throw my arms around him in the hallway or kiss his cheek in passing. I suppose I could. I just don’t think that I could handle the talk of it all. If there’s one thing this village is good at, it’s talking. We’d slept in separate beds again. Mainly because we weren’t sure what time Chloe would get in. And if I’m honest, I’m not quite sure how I am going to survive the nights with her here. It would all be a great
Foster Chapter 8 Part 4
December 31st. 2012 About Midnight I wonder if Tami and James will notice I’m gone. They seemed well plastered. Tami, at least. James has never been a crazy drinker. Knows his limit. I wish I did. I lost count of tequila shots about half-way into the night, which is never a good thing. I think the one I had for good measure on my way out was a bit too much. My stomach is churning. I very well might vomit on my shoes. It certainly would warm me up a bit. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not dressed for the walk home. Still, I’m not far now. I can do it. I’m sure of it. I was a competitive swimmer, once upon a time. Can’t get fitter than that. I thought New Year’s Eve would be fun. Bit of a joke, that thought. I should have known two drinks in that all I’d be able to think about was how Damon’s probably at home happily shagging his wife and thinking about how great it is to finally
Foster Chapter 8 Part 5
He’s stopped walking. Wrapped his arms around my waist. Headlights are lighting up the street corner around the bend. I suppose he doesn’t want to look like he’s taking a woman hostage on New Year’s Eve. “Surely daddy would have told you not to get yourself into any compromising positions after the last time…” He has that look in his eye that says I’m going to kiss you now, though warns me not to resist. But to be completely honest, I think I’m about to be sick and I would rather keep my life than spray him in the face. So, I struggle. Smack at his shoulder. The street is awfully bright now. I can see that bruise so clearly, I wish I hadn’t. “I’m going to-” “Sasha!” Again, that slam of a car door. And he pulls back just like he did last week, only he doesn’t tell me to be quiet. He stares at me with a fury I don’t think I’ve ever seen alight in his eyes. And footsteps pound the pavement. Bertrand releases me a little too quickly. I stumble a bit. Land on the
Foster Chapter 9 Part 1
January 1st, 2013 Morning Damon I woke without an alarm just past seven in the morning. A little late, at least for me. I read through the news quietly, I know I would win this morning. The French only burned eleven hundred cars this New Year’s—Sasha hates the French. She would probably mention the five hundred odd people injured by fireworks in the typically rowdy Pilipino New Year’s celebrations. The car fires, I think, are the perfect balance between humour and tragedy. Though, she would hate me making light of any tragic news. In any case, that is the whole point of the game. That and to have something to inject into small talk all day. She stirs beside me, though I’m not hopeful she’ll wake. She’s stirred many times. She will roll over with a grunt and fall back asleep. So, I look. And there’s no harm in it. She fell asleep in my arms in the bathtub after what could have been half an hour of si
Foster Chapter 9 Part 2
I stand quietly. Her legs wrap around my sides. Walk us into the bedroom I wish we could just call ours. Kick the door shut. Like anyone will intrude. Milo won’t. I think he’s dead. That scruffy stray. I hope he isn’t. For Sasha’s sake. In any case, I drop her down on the bed as gently as I can. She’s still got my clothes on from last night. Hair fastened at the nape of her neck. And it takes me a moment to decide what to do. I’ve got so many things I want to. But I kiss her gently. Push her shirt up over her shoulders and throw it somewhere to my left. I don’t think we’ll have much use of it. And the feeling of her fingers up in my hair and the taste of the skin all on her stomach is enough to send me over the edge. I want to cut off her clothes with a pair of kitchen scissors and just have my way with her. And I just want her to take me by the scruff of my neck and use me at her discretion. Still, my heart goes into a frenzy at the sight of her. Pink, swollen and w
Foster Chapter 9 Part 3
January 2nd, 2013 Morning Sasha “Joel’s been asking about you.” Tami seems to have mastered the art of swinging on her newly broken chair. Of course, she would find a way to. “It’s bonkers, I’ve got Brett’s cock in my mouth and he’s talking about how his mate asks about another double date once a day.” The chair slips. She squares her hands on the table. Close call. “Excellent. Not happening.” I don’t look up. I’m well behind on paperwork. I know she’d be giving me that pathetic look, anyway. “He’s a nice bloke, Sasha.” “He tried to kill me.” At least, that’s what Damon said. “You need to get out there,” Finally, I look up. She has that pathetic look, just as I predicted. And it finally dawns on me. This whole time, she was just trying to fix me up with someone who wasn’t Bertrand. Does she really think I’m so wounded and desperate to run back to an emaciated predator? Him and wha
Foster Chapter 9 Part 4
The guide glances over. A strange look on her face. She places a hand on my shoulder. Wants to take me outside. Where their best ones are, I’m guessing. “A couple of the younger ones are just outside; would you like to meet a few?” “Maybe later,” I shrug off her hand as politely as I can. I’m walking over before I can consider how best to not startle her. The girl doesn’t look up. I have a thing for strays. Not that this child is one. Souls who may need a little extra love. Perhaps because I know I do. “Hey…” I sit. Stiffly. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Not after years of service. I should have worn a pair of older jeans if I was going to be sat Indian style. Hindsight, I suppose. Always sharper. She looks up. Bright blue eyes. Almond shaped. Hooded. Doesn’t say a word. “Why don’t you go play?” “I’m waiting for James.” She has that huffy kid voice about her. Looks me up and down with a small frown. Stares straight back out the window. “James isn’t co
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“Ah…” It’s the only sound I can make, half-hidden by a gasp, hands through his hair. And he pulls back. I’m just soaking. I can feel it. “That—that little sigh you do and your fingers in my hair.” And his lips are trailing from my sex down to my knee. Until he draws back. And sucks my big toe between his lips. Mouth hot. Tongue soft. I just want him to have me already. He draws back again. Lips drawing a line from my knee, dangerously northbound. I can’t take it. “I just love it when you come. I can’t get enough of it.” I can’t help it. Another “Ah…” escapes me as his mouth clamps down on me and his fingertips brush my clitoris. It seems to embolden him, encouraging him needlessly to rip me to shreds on the bathroom counter like he should have that first night. And I hate the fact he’s memorised everything that drives me to the edge, if only to bombard me with until I feel my heart could give way. “That shower is still running.” I’m talking
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March 1st, 1997 Morning Chloe God is testing me. Shamelessly, at that. Chris moved-in across the street. Replaced the same-sex couple I can’t say I liked all that much. They droned on about installing art pieces village-wide in the town meetings. The young children on the street don’t need to be perverted by their sins. The air already feels clearer without them. I can throw back my curtains without worrying my attractive husband will be gawked at on their morning speed-walks. All was right in the world. Until that moving truck showed up. It's almost like he followed me here. I couldn’t blame him if he did. I suppose he transferred, Damon mentioned working alongside his old boss now. I had to feign ignorance. Lest Chris know I’ve noticed. I would rather have had a little more time to build intrigue—I’m no longer that mousey-brown city seductress he knew back in London. I’ve changed. I’m the fun r
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February 28th, 1997 Evening Chloe Todmorden isn’t half as awful as I thought it would be. Part of me is sure I’m just in the honeymoon stage. As long as I’m undressed and ready by the time he gets home, Damon is especially pleasant. I haven’t had to spend a moment with his dreadful mother. Though, at times, I do feel a bit like a caged bird. Existing only to look pretty and sing a nice song when spoken to. The kind of bird that gets its wings trimmed should it try to fly too far. The town does know how to have its dinner parties. More than they do in London. A bunch of hippies, apparently. Damon never liked the parties. Especially not three glasses of wine in when the ladies start to get a little loud. Though, he didn’t seem to mind when I was making out on top of the table with one of the women from Todmorden Unitarian Church. I don’t think she ever told me her name. If she did, I certainly don
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January 25th, 1997 Midday Chloe I hadn’t even seen the house until now. Crazy, I know. It’s an old Victorian, I would assume. I’ve never cared much for architecture. A little boxy and castle-like, overgrown with ivy. Two-storeyed, he’s probably hoping to get some babies out of me. All paid for with my money, I presume. The sold sign is still up. The whole village has got this medieval look about it, completely surrounded by this lush, sweeping countryside. Far enough from London to lose the smell of the city. I’m sure every house has a vegetable patch in their yard. They’ve probably got a committee for everything. I’m sure a “homeowners committee” will come knocking down the door with a list of injunctions for the city folk set up shop across the road. Lawn too long. Car too loud. Moving truck too much of an eyesore. Ivy too modest—should cover the whole house! God, it ought to be the first thing to go. Just
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January 25th, 1997 Morning Chloe Want to test your marriage? Move back home. Rather, your husband’s home. On your first wedding anniversary, no less. Practically to the minute. I know, I should be sympathetic. His mother has cancer. Still, I thought I had married a man who despised small towns as much as I do. At least, that’s what he told me. He hadn’t lived until he’d seen London. Got amongst its busyness and decrepit charm. Yet we’re northbound, and rather quickly. Sat in a rental truck that feels it will topple over if we round a corner too suddenly. The provincial furniture rocking in its rump so blissfully. It has no idea it’s headed straight to its grave, never to be looked at by anyone of note again. He promises we’ll be back to the city when she’s better. Healthy as a horse, he thinks. Loins of steel. Built like a machine. She acts like one. Has never cared all that much
Foster Chapter 10 Part 5
January 6th, 2013 Evening “If you can’t even move that couch, I don’t think you’ve got much chance with your hands.” I dig in my heels a little harder. I’m determined. Besides, it can’t be that heavy. “I’m not getting a gun—I don’t ever want to fire one.” “Pepper spray?” Begrudgingly, he joins in—with a small huff and the roll of his eyes. His shoulder brushes mine. I’ve pretended not to see his eyes. Or to have heard the huff. I suck in a breath. Put my weight into it. “No weapons. I don’t want to have to count on anything.” “Okay. I get it.” I think he does all the work. The couch slides towards the dining table like it’s on wheels. Moves, nonetheless. That’s all I wanted. “This should be enough room.” I step into the centre. The rug is nice and plush. I don’t think it will hurt too much if incoordination victimises me. It will. I just know it. “What do I do?” I’m not too
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“What?” Now I just want to hide back behind him. Damon seems to know. He steps in front of me. “You can’t search her; you’ll need a female officer to.” “I can search her; I just can’t take her clothes off.” Again, with that smug smile. He claps his hands together. Peers around Damon’s shoulder to me. I was right to hope for two more magpies. “Now, shall we do it here, or do you have a more private place you would rather.” “Show me your warrant.” Damon seethes. “I was hoping you would ask.” I can see him fish into his pocket. “Finished my two-year probation yesterday.” “Did you know about this?” Suddenly, Damon turns to face me. Thrusts the card toward me. Looks a bit like a student ID in a fancy wallet if you ask me. With a stupid, god-awful photo of this git rather blow-up. “Know about what?” “He’s a detective, Sasha!” He shouldn’t be yelling that; I can only imagine the things it woul
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January 6th, 2013 Morning I’ve been staring through the tiny window all morning. I saw a single magpie on the way here. It tailed us in the car. Swooped down like we’d stolen its babe. Flew off into the distance like some mysterious harbinger of death. I waited for another. Even two. I think I would rather death than sorrow. At least death would put me out of my misery. Not give me another reason to want it. “I thought you might need this.” I hadn’t noticed he was even close. I’m a shotty receptionist. Damon is leant over me. His elbows on the counter. A disposable cup in his hands. “What is it?” I lift the lid. Foam. Dark foam. Coffee? “Cappuccino.” He’s smiling. He’s got to know I’m not impressed. “I know. No coffee with milk in it. Just try it, won’t you?” “Will it make you happy?” I’ve been struggling with the lid. I don’t know how the baristas get them on. “Very.” I take a
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January 5th, 2013 Midday “I think we need a redo,” When he walks back over, he knows better than to come empty-handed. A cup of steaming coffee threatens to spill with each step. A stupid, playful grin is the only warning I’ll get. I think I have a good enough idea what he’s after. I lean forward. Prop my chin up in the palm of my hand. I’m ready. “Of?” He sits on the same un-cushioned chair he did last time. The halls are quiet, Tami tapping away happily at a keyboard is the only sign of life for kilometres. It’s the palliative care ward, after all. His chair is just as disagreeable when he scoots closer. He reaches forward again, rakes the hair from my face, and I can’t help but lean in because at this point, it’s all become instinct. His lips brush mine at first. The other winding through the back of my hair. And I don’t care that we haven’t spent a moment together alone since Tuesday. That I worr
