Chapter 1
“Damn it, Michelle, I told you time and again not to move my things! It’s hard enough being out on the streets trying to protect the city without having to come home and deal with this shit!”
“I’m sorry, Alan,” Michelle pleaded, her voice a hoarse whisper. She knew the look in his eye. He was all out of forgiveness tonight.
“What’s sorry going to do to give me my time back?” Alan shouted, getting right into Michelle’s face. She could smell him now, the scent of tobacco and a hint of fast food; she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek as he shouted. She would be in real trouble when he began to grit his teeth.
“Just…just tell me what you’re looking for. I can help you find it!”
But it was too late for compromise. It always seemed too late for compromise.
Michelle cried out in pain as Alan’s fist met her cheek and she felt a sudden jolt of alarm. One of her back teeth had cracked the last time and now it had shattered completely. Alan didn’t seem to notice though, nor would he care if he did. Michelle held her head in her hands as the blows continued, until he felt satisfied and pulled away.
“I told you this a million times,” he said. “Don’t move my stuff.”
But not moving his stuff meant that they lived in a filthy home, because God forbid the man ever pick up after himself. She just couldn’t bring herself to live like a pig anymore. Every time she cleaned, she was punished for it. But that wasn’t all she was punished for, not by a long shot. Even things he seemed to exaggerate and imagine got her into hot water. All because Alan was the chief of police and he felt like he could get away with murder- even in his own home.
She tried once before to report Alan for domestic abuse. She had the bruises to prove it and had gone, her hands shaking the whole time, to the police station, where an incredulous man took her statement. He left for a few moments before returning with Alan, of all people, and they sat down together.
“My buddy here says you like to make up stories when you don’t get your own way,” the man, whose tag read Officer Graham, said.
Alan grinned at her the whole time.
“She’s a compulsive liar, really. Lies about things she doesn’t even need to lie about. She’s willing to hit herself hard enough to bruise and then try to make me look bad for it!”
Alan knew just what to say to make her sound insane and it seemed the harder she fought, the easier it was for him to entrap her. Graham knew the truth though. She knew he did. He just wasn’t willing to risk his promotion to help her. Or maybe some archaic part of him felt it was justified to hit a woman to keep her in line. No matter who she spoke to in the station, Alan always managed to show up and turn Michelle’s words against her. And that was that.
“Bring me my fucking bootlaces,” Alan growled down at Michelle, who was hunched on the floor, trembling as she attempted not to cry. Alan hated it when she cried. The consequences weren’t worth it.
Michelle listened to his heavy footfalls disappearing into the living room and waited a few moments before standing up. She walked steadily to the bathroom and cleaned the blood off her face, purposefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror. Things just couldn’t get any worse.
***
That weekend, Michelle was tending to her plants, the only hobby she had that Alan hadn’t tried to destroy, when the phone rang. Something about it gave her a chill and she frowned, giving one final mist to her peace lily before heading to the phone. At first, she thought that maybe Alan had been injured in the line of duty, which upset her regardless of the fact that he was abusive. Some part of her still cared about the asshole. However, when she answered, the deep, gravelly voice that inhaled and then said, “Hey kid,” made the goosebumps stand up on her arm.
“Is that you, Blade?” Michelle whispered. If Blade was calling her, it could mean nothing good.
“Yep,” he said, trying to be as cheerful as possible. But she could tell he wasn’t happy. “I have some bad news, Michie. Your dad had a thing with his heart last night. He didn’t make it.”
“What?!”
Michelle slumped down to the floor and closed her eyes. Of course, she had known this was a possibility. He had been sick a long time and had lived a good, long life. But the news still shocked her deeply and a small well of grief began to pool in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t want you to get some bullshit call from the police. People who didn’t know or really care about him, you know? He was my best friend. He’d have wanted it this way.”
“Well…what do we do?” Michelle asked, totally distressed. “I’ve never planned a funeral.”
“Relax and take it easy, all right? The MC is taking care of everything. You don’t have to lift a finger. We’re going to have the funeral Tuesday. How does that sound?”
“Tuesday,” Michelle repeated, her tears falling silently down her face as she listened numbly to Blade’s comforting voice. “I think my husband has a work thing but I will be there.”
“All right,” Blade said, his deep voice reassuring. “I’ll come pick you up, all right? It’s kind of a private spot that people on four wheels would normally have a hard time getting to.”
Michelle smiled despite herself. Of course, it was.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Thanks.”
“Yup. You hang in there, all right? Everything’s going to be fine.”
Michelle hung up, the calm, soothing voice of Blade still echoing in her mind. Everything was going to be fine. As long as she could manage to get Alan’s approval to leave for the funeral, then yes, it would. The idea of him saying no made her breath catch in her throat and Michelle had to close her eyes to try to ward away the panic. Alan would say yes. He could be terrible but he was an honor-bound man. Blade was right. Everything would be fine.