Thirteen

Ana

I’ m confused. More than anything I’m scared, but these men… Joel. I know his name now, and he didn’t tell me. I didn’t ask. I just overheard others, talking about their vice president. A man who made me feel strangely comfortable, even when he was talking about killing those who killed my mama.

Mama.

Pregnant with Skip’s baby.

If she’d lived we’d have always had a bond with this club. These people. Because she would’ve kept it, the baby. I know my mama, and despite all the crap she’d been going through she would have wanted that baby. Would she have continued to want Skip? Would he have let her go if she hadn’t?

Thinking of Mama brings a fresh wave of grief to the surface and I sink to the floor, draw my knees to my chest. I look around the room that’s been home since that horrific night… No. I can’t call it home, it isn’t that. It’s a prison. I may have thought differently, when I was pumped full of tranquilizers and sleeping pills, and I’d needed that stuff, for a time. Without it I don’t think I could – would – have coped. But I’m done with all that now, I need to face up to what’s happened. I need to contact Lars and Lea, get back to some kind of normality. Skip told me I can’t do that, but I don’t believe him. I believe that he wants to protect me, for some reason, but if leaving here means he can’t do that anymore, then fine. I’ll be okay. I don’t think anything he told me is as bad as he makes it out to be. We’re not living in a movie, this isn’t some gritty TV drama, this is real-life. This is just something I have to deal with. I need to move on.

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand I take a deep breath, suck up the tears and pull myself to my feet. I take another look around this drab, gray room… I’ve had enough now. I’m getting out of here.

I don’t have any possessions, not anymore, and that makes it easier. Everything I have now is in a holdall that’s been sitting on the chair by the door for a couple of days – someone brought some more clothes for me and left it there: a few T-shirts, another pair of battered sneakers, jeans that are a touch too big for me, that’s all I have now. And as soon as I’m home I’m going to burn that shit and buy new stuff. Put this all behind me. Try to make a new start. I’ll find a way to keep the house, find a way to pay for it. There’s always a way, if you try hard enough.

Zipping up the bag I throw it onto the floor and head into the bathroom. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and for the first time in days I look at my reflection. I don’t look like the same person I was before. I don’t feel like that person. I feel angry and bitter. Sad. With good reason. I watched my mama die in front of me, in the most brutal of ways. I was attacked, almost raped, by men who showed no mercy. Men who, in my eyes, epitomized evil. I feel lonely, here. That’s why I need to leave. Why I need to go back to people I know. People I want to be around: my friends. I can’t stay here, I won’t, stay here. I might have no family anymore, Mama was all I had, but Lars and Lea, they were as good as family. They’ll take me in, I know they will. I’m just sad I couldn’t talk to them at the funeral, although, I don’t actually remember seeing them, but people told me they were there. Somewhere. I don’t remember all that much, before the effects of whatever drugs these people have been giving me started wearing off. But my head’s clear now. Everything’s clear, now.

It’s almost dark outside, and the crowd that was gathered here before, for the funeral and the wake that followed, if that’s what you could call it, they’re still hanging around, which is good. If there’s a crowd, and it’s dark, I have a better chance of making my escape. It really does feel like a prison cell now, this room. This place. I need to get out.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I grab my jacket, pull the beanie hat I’ve been given down over my head, and I pick up the bag. Open the door…

“Going somewhere?”

I look up, my eyes meeting Joel’s as he stands over me, blocking my exit.

“I’m not staying here.” As I say the words I’m painfully aware of how whiny I sound. And that’s the last thing I ever was. Used to be. I don’t want to turn into that person now.

He takes the bag from my hand, throws it back inside the room, and I’m forced to follow. He closes the door behind him and leans against it, sliding his hands into his pockets, his eyes fixed on mine.

“You really want to leave, huh?”

“You can’t keep me prisoner.”

“You’re right. We can’t. Which is why you’re going somewhere else, tomorrow. You’re going to stay with Dag and Freja. They’ve got you a nice room and everything. Never had kids of their own, it’ll break their hearts if you leave.”

“Would it break yours?”

I don’t know where that question came from. I don’t know why I asked it, why it was even in my head, but even though I’m sorry I said the words, I don’t break the stare.

His mouth slowly twists up into a smirk, and he laughs quietly. “You need to get some rest.”

That’s all he says before he turns and leaves, and I slump down onto the bed and drop my head. I feel defeated. Confused. I don’t know what to do, I can’t deal with this devastating change to my world. And I don’t want to be here, in this dark, depressing place. I want to be as far away from here as I can possibly be. And nobody can blame me for that. This is where my mama died. This is where my world fell apart. Changed forever.

A knock at the door makes me jump, and I look up. Look at the door.

“Ana? It’s Kasper.”

I let a couple of beats pass. “Come in.”

He nudges open the door and throws me a small smile as he sits down beside me and hands me a beer. “Thought you might need one of these.”

“What I need is to get out of here.”

He looks at me, and I feel numb. Kasper is exactly the kind of guy I used to go for, and before all of this happened there was definitely some kind of attraction there. But whatever it was it’s gone now. I feel nothing when I look at him. No, that’s wrong, I feel something . I feel regret, that I ever walked into this clubhouse. That I gave him my number: accepted his invitation to go to that party. I should’ve listened to my mama…

“Ana… I was just…”

“I’m not in the mood for a conversation.”

I get up and go over to the window, and I look outside. People are huddled around a makeshift fire created from an old trash can, leaning back against their bikes as they drink and laugh, and I feel like I’ve been thrown into a completely alien universe. One I don’t feel safe in, despite Skip’s promises to keep me just that. Safe. He couldn’t protect my mama, could he? So why should I believe he can protect me ?

“This isn’t my world, Kasper. This isn’t my life.”

I hear him get up, walk over to me. I feel him reach for my hand but I pull it away, and he doesn’t make a second attempt.

“Ana, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, after what you’ve been through…”

I spin around and look him right in the eye. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“We’re gonna get them, they’re gonna pay–”

“That’s all you keep saying. All of you, like some trumped up kind of mantra. Like it’s going to make everything okay again, it won’t. It won’t make anything okay again.”

He says nothing to that, but I wasn’t expecting him to. And I suddenly feel guilty for that short outburst. I’m not sure he deserved it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m not. I don’t know if I ever will be. I have no idea where my life is going now, what I’m supposed to do next…”

I’m sounding whiny again, and I spin back around to face the window, resting my forehead against the glass as I stare outside.

“I just want to be alone,” I whisper, except that, I don’t. I don’t want to be alone, I want my mama. But she’s never coming back, and I don’t know if I’ll ever come to terms with that: with the way she was taken from me.

I hear the door close, Kasper’s gone, and I turn back around, sinking to the floor as tears start to stream down my face. I need to grieve now. Properly. And then I need to get out of here.