City of Crows [h.s]

Three.

*WARNINGS FOR MENTIONS OF ABUSE, ALCOHOLISM, STALKING*

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Chapter Three

"You are done with the past, but it is not done with you."

Aurora.

"Mommy."

At six years old, I clung to my mother's legs, small enough to hide behind her but big enough to peek my eyes out behind the flowy material of her dress. She didn't reach back for me as I'd hoped she would, barely noticing my presence with her attention fixated elsewhere.

"Again, Rick?" she said. Even at such a young age, I could register the obvious distress in her voice.

Someone responded to her, their voice much angrier. Much scarier. It made my small fingers cling tighter to her dress.

"I'm begging you to stop," my mother was saying desperately. She sounded sad now, voice choked as if the words were being forced out past tears. "I can't do this anymore."

"No one fucking told you to stay," someone snarled. The words were slurred, and I registered the voice growing closer. It made me shake a little, a whine slipping out unbidden.

"Mommy," I whispered, scared.

She didn't look at me. It made me bite my lip, sniffling as my father finally entered the kitchen.

He was a tall man. He towered over the both of us, but even if hadn't had a physical advantage I would have feared him. He carried himself with the narcissism of a man who knew he could get away with things.

The arrogance of one who always did.

He lifted a hand to rest on my mother's cheek, and I watched the tension melt away from her shoulders. The stench of alcohol clung to him like a thick fog. He leaned closer to speak to my mother, breath hot and heavy on her face.

"You wouldn't leave me, Adeline," he said pathetically. "What would I do without you, huh? I wouldn't know what to do with myself. You can't leave me."

It was manipulation, I would realize later. The way his pitch changed so quickly. The way his touches went from harsh to gentle, his tone from scathing to sweet. A master at his art.

My mother was silent, but I knew the fight had left her. I could see it in the way she sank into him, fell into his chest so easily. Allowed his arms to wrap around her, satisfied he'd convinced her to stay another night.

I went unnoticed by the both of them. Little six year old Aurora, clinging to her mother's dress and watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes.

Wondering if this is what love was.

*

When I woke up, the first thing I registered was how gross I felt.

My head felt foggy. In fact, my entire body felt a little like it had been stuffed with cotton. I blinked a few times, tongue feeling strangely heavy in my mouth as I swallowed.

The second thing I noticed was that I wasn't at home.

Not my apartment, at least. I was clearly at the penthouse, but it wasn't even the room I'd been staying in. The realization sent a flash of panic through me. I sat up abruptly, only to regret it instantly.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned softly. My eyes squeezed shut of their own accord as a wave of nausea slammed into me. I stayed still for a moment while it passed, holding my stomach.