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He stopped me. Isn’t that what I wished for? Still the mere thought of him makes my chest ache all over again while emotions battle for dominance. Fear, sorrow, and this awkward feeling of desire, that has no business being there.
I have never desired anyone. It’s already tough enough on my own. And it will get worse, I know that. I cansmellit, just like I cansmellthe sweaty mass of people around me.
And it’s making me feel sick.
After France, I thought I could fall back into my usual shadow. And perhaps a ridiculous part of me hoped that the Donnellys would forgive me because I got Mason out, although in the end, he didn’t need saving. Though maybe he did, because the guy I saw earlier didn’t seem anything like the one I met back in the mansion of theFrères Perdus. Love makes him a happier person. Maybe after all, I did do something right?
The train stops with a sudden squeal of brakes, and we all grab the closest metal bars as we try, and fail, not to bump into one another. And then the doors open, and I can breathe.
Nearly there. Though the truth lurks around me like doom. Because I failed All Saints, and the Business and the Void now know what I've done. I've just put a target on my head. So now I have two enemies, and no envelope, unless they have left it anyway. Would they have left it? Fuck, I hope they did. No cash means no paid bills, means no booze for Mom, means no letter from Dad.
I shudder at the thought.
They’ll come after me.
And that scares the living shit outta me.
ChapterTwo
PHOENIX
They don’t know where you live. They don’t know—
The words drum a loop in my mind as I scurry down the street, only slowing down once I get to the intersection in front of our apartment building. Shouldering past a group of guys lingering around, I halt at the corner to give my surroundings one last inspection. Then I start climbing.
Ever since I came back from France, I’ve stopped taking the main entrance, too afraid of being noticed. Instead I use the fire escape. They are rickety stairs that haven’t been properly maintained, but they do the job just fine as I climb them with agile moves. After all, practice makes perfect.
Like in a film, earlier events flash through my mind while my legs carry me up, higher and higher, to where no one can touch me. To where no one can find me, and I’m back being the invisible Phoenix Dirosso. I have to be careful around this neighborhood. It’s mostly a combination of Ma and Pa shops, junkies and whores.And All Saints.They rule these streets with an iron fist.
On the fifth floor, the window to my room is waiting for my return, the thin cardboard paper the only indication that the wooden frame can be lifted. With both hands I do just that, pulling the frame up until I can hoist myself inside. Flinging my legs over the window sill, I practically land ass-flat onto my bed. I have a small room, but it’s enough for me. Apart from a single bed and a wardrobe, I have my desk, a messy pile of papers and different sized pencils that I use for my drawings, and a chair, where I spend most of my days, and nights. The only thing I regretnothaving is my own bathroom. Especially at moments like these, when agony combined with the mild sun has managed to make my entire body sticky with sweat, and my bladder’s about to burst.
I tug out the earbuds, place my ear against the door, and wait for a minute, but other than my pathetic panting and the usual noise from the kitchen, I don’t hear anything. Don’t hearher. My fingers are itching to draw, to create, to retreat back into twilight and forget about what happened, but first I need a shower and to wash the day off of me. Quickly, I make my way out and head for the bathroom. Once I’m finished, I take a quick detour to get some food having skipped breakfast earlier. With my nerves on edge I couldn’t keep a single thing inside of me this morning.
It reeks in the kitchen, and even before I approach the counter, I know what I’m going to find. Sprawled on the floor, soaked in her own urine, lies Mom. The strong scent of alcohol lingers all around her stained clothes and unwashed skin, and the combination with the hay-like smell of cigarettes makes me start to choke on my own saliva.
“Mom.” I hoist her up by her arm, and drape it around my slender shoulders. She mumbles a few words, but other than that, feels like dead weight. “Mom,” I groan, and pull again. “Wake up. We need to get you cleaned up.” She grunts some more, then her heavy eyes flutter slowly.
“Phoenix?” Her voice is low, and gruff, with sleep or intoxication, probably both. “Where's Adrien?” I sigh as my chest constricts.
“Dad’s not here, Mom.”Not anymore.“Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom. Get you cleaned up.” This time she mutters a complaint and opens her eyes, though she lets me help her get back onto her feet. “How long have you been here? What happened?”
It was her birthday, that’s what happened. The smell is unbearable, though I can’t accept the inevitable.
“Have you been here all night?” She doesn’t answer, apart from a few unintelligible mumbles, but it’s enough for guilt to punch me straight in the gut. Had I eaten this morning, I would have found her. Had I not gotten myself into this mess in the first place, I would have been able to take care of her. Mom blinks a few more times, until her eyes focus on me, and I catch the moment reality comes crashing back into her mind. Her gaze becomes numb again.Reality hurts.
“Where were you?” she asks as we shuffle our way to the bathroom, to where I plant her on the toilet and move the shower curtain to the side. The faucet always takes ages before it turns hot, and I watch the water tumble down as I try, “I was here, Mom.”
“I needed you. Why weren’t you here when I needed you?”
My chest tightens. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“It’s her birthday today. Did you really want to leave me on herbirthday?” The words are nothing more than a soft murmur, but their accusation lands heavy in my chest. Mom snorts into the silence, but it turns into a spluttering, coughing fit. While she gurgles on nicotine and cheap beer, I check the temperature of the water with the back of my hand.
“I didn’t leave you, I was out working.” I tug at her blouse. “Now, can you take off your clothes, or do you need me to help?”
“You forgot your sister’s birthday!” She bellows, her mood shifting as abruptly as the cough that’s shuddering through her and makes her spine tremble. “Our little angel. Because you were out,” she spits, plucking on her dirt-stained shirt. “Just like your father. Absent.” Exhaling thoroughly, I keep my focus on her wet pants as she shimmies out of them. Holding on to the cabinet behind her, it takes her multiple tries, before I breathe in deeply, then bend forward to help her remove them. I can’t breathe this close to her. “You could have left, like he did. Why didn’t you?”
Getting up with her pants in my hand, I throw them into the hamper. “Come on, Mom. Get in.” The water never gets hot because we’re permanently saving on heating costs, but this is as good as it gets. She lets me guide her into the bath, then looks up, her dark eyes surprisingly sober.
