Eavan

Ruby hasn’t gotten up for three days. It has happened for the third time within a month.

Her soul is sick again.

Jack and she tried to get to Alaska, but the cops caught them and shot Jack dead. The blonde bitch, Natalie, who is looking after Ruby and me now, was very straightforward about it.

“We had to take him,” she said. “For the alleged kidnapping.”

“He was our friend,” I yelled, knocking over the chair I was sitting in.

The banging sound echoed in the interrogation room I’d visited four times so far as another cop walked in, a man in his fifties, anger pervading his glance.

“We had to follow the protocols,” Natalie said.

“You killed my friend,” I said. “You killed my sister again.”

“Your daddy killed you both when you were born,” the male cop said. “We’re just trying to deter the moment you and your sister rest in your caskets. Behave or you’ll be on your own. And that will mean bye-bye life and welcome the afterlife.”

“Jack was one of you,” I said, sobbing, and the man glared at me.

Natalie tilted her head towards the door. “Give us a minute, Mike.”

Mike left the interrogation room as I fixed my eyes on Natalie. She dropped into the chair, waving her hand towards me so I lifted my chair and sat down.

“Ruby didn’t see his death,” she said. “We took him outside of the motel whilst she was having a shower.”

“You killed a cop. A. Cop. Your colleague.”

“Jack stopped being a cop the moment he broke the law and started an intimate relationship with Ruby.”

“They loved each other.”

“Jack wasn’t allowed to have feelings for any of you. He was supposed to do his job properly and ensure your safety.”

“He saved us twice. He was a good man. A good man who deserved to be happy.”

Natalie’s eye twitched. “I’m sorry. Sometimes good people make very bad decisions in life.”

I breathe in the cold air rustling the lilac curtain hanging in Ruby’s bedroom.

“How are you, honey?” I ask and stroke her head.

“Not bad,” she shrieks.

I remove my trainers and lie down beside her. We’re facing each other. Ruby’s hand travels to my pregnant belly.

“How is our little treasure?” she asks.

“Very naughty.”

“You should tell him.”

“You know I can’t contact him. Natalie—“

“Screw Natalie. Let’s pack our clothes and go to where nobody can find us. Let’s take Seafra with us. Let’s go to a nice place far from everybody else.”

“Like where for instance?”

“To Alaska,” her voice falters as her body shivers.

I watch her as she chokes back tears, takes a deep breath and stops shaking.

“Ruby...”

“Jack said we would be happy, you know, just me and him, far from all the shit.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“Jack saved our lives twice and they killed him. They killed their colleague.”

“I know, sweetie. It’s so fucking unfair.”

“He would have died for us.”

“I know, sweetie.”

The mafia found us once. Jack disclosed their hitman soon enough to shove us into the car and drive off, but ended up with a bullet in his chest. He suspected that there might have been the mafia’s spy among the cops working on Ruby’s and my case. I guess I will never know.

Maybe Ruby is right. Maybe we should vanish, hide where nobody can find us.

“He made me feel good,” Ruby says. “I felt like a woman with him.”

“I know.”

“Maybe he was supposed to make me feel better about myself, to make me believe that even without my legs I can have a happy life with a loving man by my side.”

Her maturity brings both warmth and sadness into my heart. “Maybe, Ruby.”

“There must be the reason for every tragedy in our lives. I don’t know. Jack showed me what passionate love is. Do you think I’ll find a man who will want to share such love with me?”

“I hope so, honey. You deserve such love.”

“You deserve love too, Eavan.”

“Sleep.”

“You are annoying, you know.”

I kiss her temple. “Sleep. I’ll check on you later.”

Ruby closes her eyes so I correct the duvet around her and watch her tired face for a moment. There are delicate wrinkles under her eyes and her naso-labial folds have deepened because she’s lost weight.

I’m so furious with my father, for all the shit his actions put our family in, for my mother’s death, for Ruby’s disability and nightmares, for my nightmares. For my unborn baby who will never meet its father.

I get up and go to the kitchen.

Natalie is standing by the window, correcting the wide leather belt in her trousers and the gun on her hip. A pale blue shirt makes her face look a bit ashen, not a good colour to match her skin tone, at all.

“How is she?” Natalie asks.

“What do you think?”

“She’s young. She’ll get over this.”

“She died again with Jack. She died on that night my parents were killed and Jack made her recover. You made her die again, you...” My voice rises and Natalie shoots snaps of lightning towards me with her hazel eyes.

“I’m not your enemy,” she says.

“Right, you’re just doing your job.”

“Yes, I’m just doing my job. The best I can.”

My eyes sweep over the kitchen table and the documents spread across the top.

“Samantha Green?” I ask. “It’s the worst false identity I’ve ever had.”

“You’ll start your job as a receptionist in two days.”

“Sure. Why not? I’ve never been a receptionist.”

I’ve been a cleaner, a librarian, a waitress and a florist so far. And of course the older daughter of a lawyer who worked for the mafia, a pretty scary position.

My family had a beautiful house. There were parties, expensive clothes, and fear clawing the back of my neck as soon as I grew old enough to understand who my father was and who his clients were. He was rotten to the marrow of the bone as were all the men seeking his help to cover up their crimes. Greed was eating him like a parasite, decadence and evil was clouding his mind.

I remember the hungry eyes of his boss, Adriano; they slid over Ruby and me each time he visited our house. I remember that stormy evening, when I was sixteen and my mother was very unwell, resting in her bedroom, intoxicated by her anxiety medication and Adriano came to our house with his two bodyguards.

I served food and drinks as the men settled themselves in the living room.

Adriano pulled me onto his lap. He sank his face into my hair and inhaled me.

“Untouched?” Adriano asked.

“Of course,” my father said.

“How much?” Adriano asked.

My father said the price, his face like a mask, stripped of emotions, eyes cold like a piece of glacier, and his boss kissed my neck. I knew I’d been sold to him.

I learnt what primal fear was in that moment, what hatred and repulsion were. I learnt what betrayal was. They were all that stinging and incinerating suffocation, making me teeter on the edge of collapse, making me feel like in a trap. Making me desire death.

“Soon, angel,” he said into my ear then turned his face to my father. “What about the other?”

“She’s too young,” my father said in a sharp voice.

“I want them both, Carl.” Adriano stroked my hair. “But we can talk about it later. No rush. In a year, perhaps? When Ruby is old enough.”

My father nodded, anger blazing in his eyes.

Ruby was born as his mistress’s child and she was more precious to him than I was because Gloria was more precious to him than my mother was. My mother adopted Ruby when she was only three months old and she loved her as she loved me, with her desperation, anxiety and helplessness. Gloria was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all I know.

Adriano shoved me off his lap, touching my bottom and I escaped upstairs. I was crying in Ruby’s arms the whole night.

A week later, I was packing my belongings to move into Adriano’s house and my father suddenly changed his mind. My mother and he united, deciding to go to the police but soon, they learnt that no one was allowed to screw with the mafia.

“I know you didn’t choose your family,” Natalie says, tearing me out of my reverie. “It just happened that you were born in shit. People have worse problems in life.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Try harder.”

Her thin eyebrows rise then a smirk crosses her asymmetric lips. “Behave. I’ll check on you next week.”

I salute her.

“And eat properly.” Her eyes slide down to my pregnant belly. “Try to walk every day. The baby needs peace otherwise, it won’t let you sleep when it’s born.”

A strange feeling strangles my throat. It’s warm yet eerie. Natalie is really trying to help.

Seafra

Charlie takes a seat in the sofa standing at the wall and puts an A4 envelope on his lap, patting it with his hand. I sit on the carpeted floor with my knee bent, running my fingers through my hair. A cup of tea in my hand disperses a vanilla aroma.

“The address,” Charlie says and sips his tea as the worn out sofa creaks with his every movement. “Do it discretely.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. Like a shadow. Fucking hell, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He reaches to his back pocket and throws keys at me.

I catch them and shove them into the pocket of my hoody. “Thank you.” I scramble to my feet and deliver the empty cup to my claustrophobic kitchen looking like a cellar in some dungeons then return to the living area accommodating only the sofa, the coffee table and the low cupboard with the flat screen on top.

“The passport, the national insurance number, the birth certificate, and the driving licence,” Charlie says.

“Thank you.”

“I just can’t believe I’m doing this.” He puts the cup on the coffee table as his hands tremble on his lap.

He has this tremble when he’s very nervous and I’ve seen him very nervous maybe ten times. Normally, he can hide his emotions behind a mask called a nice guy with a good sense of humour.

I swallow saliva. “Well—“

“Are you sure, Connor?” He fixes his concerned eyes onto mine. “There will be no going back.”

“I made my choice a long time ago.”

“You have no money.”

“I will find a job, don’t worry.”

I’m penniless. Almost all my savings has covered the search for Eavan. But it was worth it.

“If you needed anything, call me, but each time use another phone and dispose of it immediately after the call,” Charlie says. “Avoid hospitals, crowds, police stations, train stations and all that stuff. Don’t make friends with the people who could expose you.”

“I know what to do.”

“No, you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re crazy, but I can’t lock up a grown up man in his bedroom.”

“I love her.”

“That’s the whole fucking problem.”

I rise to my feet, hanging a bag over my shoulder and take the envelope from Charlie’s hand. “Sort the things out with the landlord. He’s a nice guy.”

“Sure.”

“And don’t worry about me.”

“Be careful,” Charlie says.

“You too.”

“I may visit you from time to time.”

“Sure. Thank you for everything.”

I mean for everything. For his unorganised, crazy ideas of how to raise me, for his harsh words, for his soothing words when I needed them the most, for all his help. We argued, fought like wild animals sometimes and said nasty words to each other, but he was for me each time I was in trouble.

“You’re the best brother I could wish for,” I say, my throat thin, strangled by emotions.

“Do yourself a favour and be happy. Like really happy.”

“I will, I promise.”

We shake hands and I walk out of my flat. My eyes roam over the surroundings as I settle myself on the Harley-Davidson Charlie bought for me abroad. I start the engine and the bike moves towards the main road, passing the police station and my favourite cafe.

I rev up and shoot forward to reunite with my woman whether she wants to reunite with me or not.