Daughter of Night (A Daughter of Nyx novel)

Chapter 2

I'm going to go ahead and apologize now. My postings will be random and sometimes, there will be double posts. I've tried to stick to a schedule, and... it doesn't work with me. Oops. 

Also, I'm sorry if the beginning seems a bit slow. I'm still feeling out where it's going and I think I found it.  But, I'm on chapter 4 so... 

Anyway, on with the show.

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Warmth caressed Chavonne's face and against her will, her eyes opened. It took her a moment to realize where she was. On her couch that overlooked the city. Her parents paid a lot of money for her apartment and the view was worth it. So was the doorman. Did he help her to the elevator? Did he help her get inside?

But... how did she get there? The last thing she remembered was scrabbling to get away from Jonathan.

How did she live?

She sat up and flinched from the pain in her ankle. She pushed away the blanket that had been thrown over her. She was still in mud covered green, but her shoes were off. Gingerly, she pushed at the swelling flesh. Yes, it hurt. But it wasn't broken.

She had a bandage that she could wrap it in and there was no reason to go to the hospital. All they could do was tell her what she already knew. They might shove painkillers at her, but she couldn't take them. All they did was make her sick.

And besides, she was alive, right? What was a little pain compared to the fact that she was supposed to be dead. How did she get away from him? And him, dead now, hopefully? Because she was still alive? Yes, she could take the pain.

Getting to her good foot was tricky, but before long, she was hopping her way to the bathroom. Only once did she slide on the polished hardwood floor and drop her bad foot. A quick curse and she made it to her destination. Her large shower called to her, inviting her to wash away the evidence of the activities from the night before and it was an invitation she couldn't resist.

The water ran brown for what felt like forever and she scrubbed until her skin was raw. Up until that point, she had been unable to cry. Shock, disbelief, horror, certainty that she was stuck in a bizarre nightmare, all those things prevented her tears. But now, he was truly gone and her ankle throbbed in time with her heartbeat and she couldn't get rid of the fucking dirt and she broke. Sliding down the wet tiles, she gave her tears to the steaming water.

No more late night movies followed by even later bottles of wine. Concerts played in vinyl from her ancient record player in her living room, pasta feasts in his kitchen. No more calling him when her latest lover dipped before approaching anything remotely resembling a relationship. Calls from him to complain about the opposite.

Half her life was gone.

The person that knew more about her then she did. Literally. He knew her before the accident that hid her early life and left her having to relearn her parents.

She didn't know how long she sat there but at long last, she pulled herself together. One last wash of her hair and she shut off the water. Struggling into her robe, she sat on the toilet and wrapped her swollen and bruised ankle. The hot water had helped ease some of the ache and now it was only a dull roar. Combing out the heavy length of tangled black hair took longer but she finally felt something a little less then what some feline might have brought home to play with.

Hitting the light-switch, she hobbled down the hallway to the kitchen. There was a bottle of golden liquid that would do more for the ache then any pills. A small insulated bucket of ice made the trip with a single rocks glass held between two fingers that somehow didn't shatter in her hopping walk and she fell back onto the sofa to watch the sun set behind the mountains on the far side of the city.