Taking Chances

Chapter 1

Through the curtains of the Greyhound bus, Bec could see the lights of Brooksdale reflected off the Gwydir River, which ran through the centre of the New South Wales town.

For the past hour or so, Bec hadn't seen any lights, just the rolling landscape of farmland and dry eucalyptus forests in various hues of night-time blue. She could see her own ghost-like reflection in the glass of the window, so she pulled her hoodie a little further around her face in an effort to hide her bruised eye.

When Bec had first moved in with Phil in Brisbane, everything had been wonderful. Extravagant parties, art galleries, and theatre. Bec knew she was mingling in the right circles to do something big with her photography, but like the creep of winter frosts, things gradually changed.

Phil expected her to entertain his regular business guests with dinners and parties. Then there was the socializing. Put on a glamorous dress, smile, and make polite conversation, but don't appear as an equal in intelligence. Bec learned that Phil had a temper. He was moody, and when those moods turned dark, it was best to stay out of his way.

Before Phil, Bec told herself she would not put up with violence of any kind, yet she suffered his insults, his complaints, and his blaming. Then came the first slap.

Phil had apologized. Said he didn't know what came over him. Said it would never happen again, that he loved her deeply.

A couple of weeks later, he hit her again. This time it was Bec's fault for making him angry, and Bec stayed. Why? She didn't know. Perhaps she believed that it was her fault. That if she could just do more to support him and his business, things would go back to the way they were.

A few days ago, Phil struck her again, giving her a black eye. That was her fault, too, so Bec decided to leave but not right away because that could prove dangerous.

She waited until Phil went on a business trip and he wouldn't know she was gone until the next day - until she was in Brooksdale with her sister, Jennifer.

The bus driver made a muffled announcement over the speaker system. They were stopping soon. Bec hoped she wouldn't have to stay long. She couldn't imagine that there would be many opportunities to pursue her art in this hick-town. But, her sister was here, and she needed somewhere to stay.

She wondered how Jen would react. They hadn't seen each other for a year, maybe more. The last time had been at their mother's funeral and they hadn't parted on the best of terms.

The bus rocked as it mounted the curb and pulled into the bus stop that was a 24-hour service station. Two B-double trucks had parked along the road down from the station. A ute with R.M. Williams mud guards covering the rear of the vehicle and several antennas attached to the bull bar was at the pumps.

Bec gathered her few belongings and stuffed them into her backpack around her camera and vodka. There wasn't much space because her camera took up most of the bag. She could have put it in her pack that went under the bus, but she didn't want to risk any damage.

She stood and squeezed her way down the aisle and out into the winter night. It was freezing, like it needed to snow but couldn't. It never snowed in Brooksdale - too dry. Bec pulled her coat close as the driver took her baggage ticket, checked off his sheet, and hauled her pack out of the bottom luggage compartment. A pang of loneliness washed over her and she shivered. This was it, her life. How had she fallen so badly?