matted in the child's hair as she lay in bed, and the bruises she would wear the next day would be the worst she'd ever had. It was the first time her mother had actually broken bones, and Gabriella was terrified and never doubted it would not be the last.
She lay in her bed, unable to cry after her mother left, it hurt too much. She shook violently instead. She was desperately cold as her entire body trembled. Her lips were swollen, her head ached, and every inch of her body hurt, but the worst was the searing pain from within whenever she tried to breathe and found she couldn't. She thought maybe she would die that night, and hoped she would. There was nothing she had left to live for. Her dolly was dead. And she knew that one day she would meet the same fate at her mothers hands. It was only a matter of time before her mother killed her.
Eloise slept in her black satin evening gown that night, too tired to undress. And Gabriella lay in her own blood, waiting for the angel of death to claim her. She tried to think of Marianne and the moments she had shared with her that night, but she couldn't think of that now, couldn't think of anything. She was in too much pain, and hated her mother too much. The hatred she felt took over everything. It almost made the pain bearable. And as she lay in her bed, at that very moment, her father lay in the arms of a pretty Italian prostitute he knew well on the Lower East Side. Gabriella had no idea where he was, nor did Eloise, and it no longer mattered to either of them. Eloise told herself she didn't care where he was, she wished him in hell, and with her he was. And Gabriella knew that wherever he was, he would never save her. She was alone in the world, without saviors, without friends, without even her doll now. She had nothing. And no one. And as she lay there, unable to move that night, in too much pain, she finally peed in her bed, and knew with utter certainty that in the morning, when her mother discovered it, she would kill her. She lay thinking about it, welcoming it, wondering how the end would come, how much more it would hurt, or maybe it wouldn't hurt at all… and as she thought of it, welcoming death into her life, she slipped mercifully into an inky blackness.
Chapter 3
THE FRONT DOOR of the town house on Sixty-ninth Street closed quietly, shortly after eight o'clock, the morning after the party. John Harrison walked silently up the stairs, and paused briefly outside Gabriella's room, knowing she would probably be awake by then. But when he looked into her room, he couldn't see her stirring. Her eyes were closed and she lay on top of the sheets, which was rare for her, but he thought it was a good sign. Instead of hiding at the bottom of the bed as usual, she was lying in the open. More than likely it meant that her mother hadn't bothered her the night before. Eloise had probably been too tired after he left, she had had too much to drink anyway to waste her time with Gabriella. At least for once the child hadn't been punished for the sins of the father. Or so he thought anyway, as he walked down the hall to his own room.
Eloise was still sleeping in her dress, her diamond necklace was still on, her earrings were loose in the bed, and she was still so sound asleep that she didn't move when he slipped into bed beside her. He knew her well enough to know that when she woke, she would say little about his hasty departure. She seldom did. She would be cool with him, distant for a day or two, but once the battle ended, it was never again mentioned. She just held it silently against him.
And just as he thought she would, she woke at ten, stirred lazily, and when she came fully awake, she glanced at him, not surprised to see him beside her. He was still half asleep by then, catching up on the sleep he'd missed the night before, in the apartment on the Lower East Side. There were a number of addresses just like it that he went to. Eloise had no idea where