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His ill temper was well deserved. The man literally just finished fighting for his life. He stood up and went to the kitchen, leaving me with the dead bodies to haunt and torment myself, but he was back shortly with a wipe carton. I didn’t even want to knowwhy he had wipes in his house as a bachelor. He handed them over to me and I gave him a confused stare.

“Well, unless you want to help me get rid of the bodies, you should clean your arms and get going, huh? Talk’s over," he dismissed without even looking me in the eye.

You know, maybe I didn't want to fully sort things out with Alessandro. Maybe it would be better I just left him to his own devices and if he got killed eventually, so what. I accepted the wipes from him with hands so shaky, I would've dropped them if I used only one hand to keep holding it.

After doing the basics to myself, I looked at the apartment one last time. I still surprised myself by not throwing up instantly and not feeling sick, up to this point. Maybe it was because I didn't see them clearly and so the full extent of the damage was hidden from my view.

Whatever caveats and nuances existed; one thing was clear. Leave now, and never come back. The instructions could never have been clearer.

Chapter 13

Three years later.

I ignored the toddler that held my pants tightly in her fists. If she was not careful, I was going to throw her over one of these times when I was drunk. Waking up now, I had a terrible hangover.

Sometimes, I wondered how she was still alive after my frequent drunk nights in. Even though I was never the violent type when drunk, a drunk person is a drunk person. I made a lot of careless movements, and she was still a tiny little thing. I always woke up feeling grateful to see her stare up at me with her big eyes, probably tired of crying out of hunger. Yet the moment I woke up, the initial hunger flew right back. But now, I had no time for crying babies. I had to get to work in the next thirty minutes or face another query. Yes, my luck ran out.

I struggled with my two-year-old daughter trying to pry her hands off my clothes and believe me when I say it was not an easy fight to win. The death grips those things had were intimidating.

"Artemis, please," I begged when she did not budge. Instead, she let out a frustrated wail, begging me in return to understand that she needed to be fed this very instant.

"I'll get to it in a moment, I promise," I reasoned with her, and she might have understood as well, because she let me go and tossed a rubber animal at me along with a string of babbles that I could only interpret as curses in baby language.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry," I called to her as I ran to get myself dressed. Without taking a proper shower, I immediately rushed out of the bathroom, almost slipping on the tiles, wet from the water dripping off my body.

I smiled at my baby, and she smiled back.

"Ya waa geh ma cureau mama?" She exposed her front teeth to me in a giggle.

"Of course I'll get you your cereal, baby," I gave her my own toothed smile.

"Okay baby," she cooed at me in the same manner I usually did her. She is such a fast learner.

I darted out of the room with my thumping head and remembered to close the door behind me. I didn't want a repeat of what happened some three months back when she tumbled down the stairs and was saved only by heavy clothing she wore and the bean bag that carelessly lay sprawled at the foot of the stairs. Still trying to put on my clothes, I began the process of preparing breakfast.

The kettle began steaming and I slapped the switch off, effectively powering down the device. I didn't even need it hot. Oh well...

I poured some into my cup and set it down, leaving the tea inside the bag to brew while I sat to regain some coordination. I hadn't been there more than a few seconds before hearing a distinct wail from upstairs.

Artemis!

I flew up the stairs with the box of cereal in one hand and a bottle of milk and a small plate in the other. I still hadn't properly zipped my pants. She was going to have to eat from the bathroom...again.

Opening the door to meet my upset daughter's accusing glare, I apologized profusely and gave her a handful of cereal as bribe which she gleefully accepted before allowing me to carry her and begin taking her clothes off. She cooperated eagerly with me, having been in this situation a countless number of times and realizing that there was no one to help her mama.

It had been me and her ever since. The day I was driven away from Alessandro was the last day I had any genuine help from anyone. The best Mrs. Baker could do for me was give advice, and just when we had started forming a deep bond, she had to move to the other side of the country where her little brother had just bought a house after winning a lottery. It was cruel of me, but I was anything but happy for her. The last three months of my pregnancy were spent in complete solace and not a day went by that I didn't miss him. That I didn't think that this was all just a bad dream and that I'd wake up nested in his embrace, shrouded by his milky scent. Unfortunately, for me, not only was my labor alone, but the first two years of Artemis's life so far was only me. No one else. I really did, though, appreciate the money Alessandro gave me. Without it, everything would have been ten times harder.

It would have been easier for me to cope and move on with my life, if Artemis did not have her father's eyes. I stared into her big silver orbs as I fed her, watching them with keen intent, wishing they were light brown, so that I wouldn't have a reminder of him every day. A reminder of the pain he caused me like the bitter aftertaste of a really sweet syrup.

In less than ten minutes from that time, miraculously so, Artemis and I were out of the house. Since she insisted on walking, I already decided that I'd be going late to work and called ahead of time to inform my superior that Artemis came down with a flu and I had to put some extra care into making sure she would be comfortable. This was one of the great perks of having a child. One adorable excuse to have your way.

I watched Artemis as we walked to the daycare I had enrolled her in. It was now usually a daily ritual to sing, as we walked, the songs taught to her in the daycare.

After going through nursery rhymes two times over, I settled for teaching her mine. One that she hadn't mastered, understandably because she knew nothing of Arabic and even the ones she learnt still came out as mildly sensible gibberish.

"Mama! Bohds!" she yelled at me with her face almost in a ninety-degree contrasting angle with her neck. She waved at the flock of birds in the sky like I taught her to. "Feeyahy away, bhordie!" She sent her well wishes and immediately diverted her attention to something else. I laughed at how insatiable her young brain was. It was so easy to get her attention and maybe easier still to lose it. Yet that didn't mean she was a child that was difficult to teach. In a brief moment, she seemed to have grasped my song whole-heartedly. I was going to have to wait until the next day or two to really tell if she would remember the song as much as she did all her teacher's songs.

We danced around during the trip and played catch, deliberately nerfing my speed to give her the satisfaction of a good run. Seeing her so happy, gave me a sense of not only joy, but everything else. Peace, self-fulfillment, hope, comfort... everything that I thought I'd need in the embodiment of a family member. I jumped in three steps to her and caught up, carrying her into the air and throwing her around, making her squeal in delight. She hardly likes those kinds of plays long term though and soon after, she began making funny noises and squirming under my grip wanting me to drop her. I did so after making sure to cover a good distance with me in her hand before letting herwalk by herself. Even though she was pulling my hands, she was practically flying in the air.

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