Reverence - Book 2

- 27 -

I made myself reckless.

I want to blame it on anyone other than the girl sat on the cold desk chair with loose hair and a simpering right eye.

I want to blame it on Yanyah who sat beside me with a full fat bleeding bottom lip and ripped eyebrow, three angry little claws drug across her cunty face.

Or Ingrid who's neck tendons were strumming over muscle as she screamed blue in her face. Something about disappointment and that we weren't in grade four.

Who fucking cares about disappointment? I'll tell you. I'm disappointed I didn't kill Yanyah.

I hated who she makes me become. And I knew it was her. That rampant, arrant mouth that didn't stop skirting my limits.

The guttural lack of respect.

A coarse chill ran its broken nails down my back. I shook away the irony, there was no room for his influence in this instance.   

A birdy hand slammed down in front of me, snapping my attention to her red aggravated face. 

"You. You know better than she." 

My mouth dropped open in rebuttal, but she stuck a finger towards my face. 

"No. NO. I don't want to hear a word from you. I could fucking strangle you with your fucking tights Yelena. This close to opening night. This close? Your face is ruined and you're still limping around here, snapping up fights. Get a grip on your fucking self." 

I could see from the corner of my eye, Yanyah's drippy blood scorned mouth turned up in snide victory. The snarling quickly focused on her and the pride dashed from her face in an instance. 

"And I told you to leave her alone." 

She sucked in a hot hard breath, only to be let out by a strong knock on the door. 

"Yelena, get up. You're done for today. I ordered you a car. Get out of my fucking office." 

She dismissed me with a flutter of her fingers. I stood achingly from the stiff chair and felt the yawn of my tender ankle as I shuffled towards the door. 

The hall hummed with speculation, and I could feel inquiring eyes passing over me like the shadows of the waning sun. I pulled down my hair, letting it grace over my shoulders. 

It was a cool dry evening, the sky was quiet with no stars, just a careful haze of the streetlamps. There were no gentle silhouettes of swaying trees and the careful crash of water on sand. 

Just emptiness and fluorescent lights. 

I shambled into the back of the town car and muttered softly to my driver. 

The car rolled in silence down the bare street, not even the soft lilt of an evening talk show or hot hits filled the space between us. The smell of stale smoke and petrol station fare hung in the heavy air. 

I saw the cresting peak of my high rise, and sighed wistfully between my teeth. 

We arrived at the warmly lit front doors , the homey lobby sat empty waiting for me. No one was waiting for me. Just the soft bustle of ambient air and soft yellow lights. 

My driver shuffled out of the car, spindly fingers creaking open my door and I met his dark eyes through the window. I slid from the stained cloth seat and tucked my bag securely against my body. I reached for my wallet, but was clipped with a gruff sigh. 

He closed the door behind me and shambled back behind his wheel, giving my a icy gaze through the side view before setting off again down the dark road. 

I watched the round red tail lights of the cab disappear over the crest of the street and a waltzing chill slithered around my legs like a black cat. A careless shiver ripped across my shoulders. 

I wanted to escape the unexplainable chill, but it held me like my gaze was held on the black windows of a Range Rover sitting silently on the side of the street. 

I know that, I've seen it before. 

I didn't take my eyes off the black shadow, my fingers reaching blindly for the handle of the door. The Lobby was unusually warm, the humid air clinging to my skin. 

I shrugged down the sleeves of my leotard, letting it hang down around my waist. 

The elevator hummed lazily as the cart descended to the lobby, and I watched my warbled reflection in the steel doors. As the doors opened, I scrapped the loose ends of my hair into a  bun, letting the blonde frills jut out like jagged branches. 

My body was stiffening, and my ankle was throbbing from standing. My eye had begun to swell, the lid becoming heavy and sensitive. I gazed down at my ripped nails and I bit back the sick grin. 

Something about a white manicure. 

I let the wall guide me down the hall, my shoulder bobbling carefully against the painted drywall. A sleepy euphoria draped it's shawl over my head, my eyes and body heavy. 

What was I doing? 

My body was broken, my face marred and my mental state was spiraling perilously down. I was loosing immediate and absolute control of who I was. 

I am. 

Who am I...

My door was open. I froze, searching at the sliver of yellow light bisecting the white hall. There was a muffled variation of Tosca coming from within. 

Quietly, I snuck to the door, ear pressed in. 

Beneath the music there was a shuffling of ceramic plates against one another. And humming. 

I know that, I've heard it before.

With a held breath, I pushed in. The lights of the house were on and bright, and heavy brown boxed littered my marble floors. 

His back was to me, but I didn't need to see his face. The broad  shoulders and slick of dark hair. The off time humming that he knew would set my eyes twitching. The smell of a friend... 

"Domingo." 

I breathed, my bag abandoning to the floor. He placed my dinnerware into an awaiting box on the counter and turned, comforting smile aimed to me. 

"Bella, you're home." 

I was crossing the floor in a flourish, into his unexpecting arms. I wrapped myself around him, tears biting against my eyes. I felt the cautious place of his hand on my upper back, fingers tapping against me in jubilance. 

I pulled away, damping my wet eyes with the back of my hands. His sure hands came to my face, steadying me. His brow was furrowed in inquisitive fear. 

"Your eye." 

He said clipped. 

I shook away his grasp. 

"Not what you'd think" 

I saw the relief steam from his shoulders. He leaned against the counter, studying me carefully. I looked around, noticing the bareness of my home. There was a neatly labeled stack of boxes sitting where my dining table had been. 

"What are you doing here?" 

I questioned, watching him back. A broad, warm smile fanned against his mouth. 

"Why do you think?" 

I felt a charge tingle through my fingers tips. Suddenly I was wide awake, there were no more reservations of sleepiness. Certainly no pain. There was a new fire, flames licking up my shins and into my belly. 

"We're going home."