Page 56 of Reckoning

My father’s words ring out in my ears as I hurry off to my room. That I’m worthless. Useless. That it would be better if I’d died and my mother had lived.

Maybe, if I can do this, I can prove him wrong. I can prove that I have some worth after all.

Fuck you dad. Fuck you.

* * *

I stay up,waiting. Only Koen doesn’t show. Not the next night. Nor the next. Maybe he’s making some sort of point. Making me suffer now. Will he expect me to get on my knees and beg him when he next shows?

It feels like he’s awakened some sort of beast inside me and as much as I try to get myself off, I can’t do it.

When the third night rolls in, I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine. Apparently, we’re both playing games.

I sneak out, wrapped up in that same thick coat, and I wander the streets like I have nothing better to do. Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I just don’t care.

The city is quiet. Deserted.

Exactly as you’d expect it to be at this time of night.

I wrap my coat more firmly around me as the freezing wind whips through my air. It feels like even the weather is telling me to turn back. To head home.

As I leave the Old Town and enter the more lively district of the Bay I can hear music, laughter, all the sounds that other people are having a great night, even if I’m not.

I drop my gaze, making sure I’m not spotted and walk on.

My phone’s in my pocket – any minute I’m expecting it to start going off, for my guards to realise I’ve got out and for Roman to be notified and for all hell to be let loose. Only it doesn’t. It remains mercifully silent.

In my other hand, I’m gripping that knife so tightly. It feels like at every corner someone is going to jump out, someone is going to try and grab me.

But that’s just the crazy talking. That’s just the paranoia. I take in a deep breath, calming myself.

The whole point in being out is to prove that I’m safe, to prove that I’m in control. If I can manage an hour or two of this, if I can keep walking, keep being calm then it will feel like an achievement. It will feel like I’m taking some kind of stand.

My stomach grumbles. I can’t remember the last proper meal I had. All around me is the smell of food emanating from the fancy restaurants, only I can’t go inside, I can’t risk it. But my mouth waters anyway.

And then I spot him.

Eric Turner-Black

I don’t know how I know his name but I do. A wave of something hits me. A memory so strong I have to grab the lamppost to keep myself upright.

Hands, too many hands. Clawing at me. Grabbing me. Touching where they have no right.

“Are you alright, love?”

I jump at the voice, at the stranger’s face full of concern, at the foreign hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine.” I say, smiling, stepping back, moving away from onlookers who think I’ve just had a funny turn.

Eric has crossed the road. He’s on the other side of the street now, heading away from the crowd, away from the shop, away from everyone.

A voice tells me I can do it, that this is what I’ve needed, what will fix everything. That the taste of revenge will ease that awful pain inside me.

My hand clutches the knife. My heart races in my chest. Is this madness? Is this crazy? I’m not sure if I care either way.

I pick up my pace, darting between the cars and I stalk after him. I don’t care if this blackens my soul, I don’t care if this taints me forever, if it damns me.

I’m ruined anyway.

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