Page 170 of Beautiful Scars

Derek’s slap throws my head to the side. My skin burns and itches as I turn back to him, as I focus on him. He steps back, swallowing, but holds his ground.

Good man.

“I can’t find his passport,” he says.

“Doesn’t matter.” I stand, look around, grab one of Alex’s T-shirts and start cleaning his blood off my hands. “Helen will sort it out.”

Derek stops moving, frowns hard at me. “Helen?”

I wave at him. “Aye.”

They say there’s a calm before the storm, but they always forget the one after. The calm that comes from hearing nothing after the too-loud violence that wreaked havoc. That calm is different though. Empty, somehow.

Empty, like me.

I lost her. Lost her for good. Because the thought of this man taking what wasn’t his drove me to insanity. And now I’m stuck in the calm that follows, without a fucking clue how I’m supposed to repair what I destroyed.

There’s blood under my fingernails. I stare at it for a second as Derek talks. I don’t bother trying to make out what he says.

It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out. Look at it.

Sarah.

“Haul,” I answer, but it doesn’t sound like me. Too calm.

“Kill, you need to come quick.” She’s whispering. Why the fuck is she whispering? “Bring the box. Bring his medicine.”

I don’t need to ask. Only one person she could possibly be talking about. But the box is in the kitchen? “Where are you?”

“We’re at my house, I can’t explain. Just please, hurry. Forty-two Glenclose Grove.”

Derek comes up behind me as I stride down the hall. We pass the door with the kid behind it, and I pause just long enough to ring the doorbell five times, bash my fist against the door and yell out, “Child protection services, open up!”

Then we’re gone, leaving that mess and the mess I made, behind.