Opening the refrigerator door, Tala took out leftover Chinese food and a jug of milk. She opened the small white box and dug in. Between bites, she chugged from the milk carton.
While she stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter to eat, she turned on the small TV that sat in the little nook separating the kitchen from the living room. She flipped the channels until she got to the news. The sheriff was giving a press conference about the murder.
Andrew Kipfer was a much-loved local celebrity and Tala knew the city was mourning with him for the loss of his only daughter, Samantha. She had been only twenty.
Tala remembered seeing her once at a charity fund-raiser a few years ago. She had been a sweet, innocent-looking girl, blond, blue-eyed, perky and upbeat. A good girl with good, upstanding friends.
Tala certainly knew that bad things happened to decent people. She’d worked in the narcotics division long enough to learn that lesson well. But how did a girl like Samantha end up in a dilapidated house, hanging upside down from the rafters with her throat slit?
Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot down Tala’s arm to her hand. Clenching her fist, she crushed the Chinese food box. Noodles and sauce oozed out from the cardboard around her fingers and dripped onto the floor.
She swung around and dumped the box and contents into the sink. She turned on the tap and washed off the remains of her breakfast. Closing her eyes, she bit out a curse. The pain was coming too soon. She thought she’d have another couple days for sure before she’d need to take care of it.
It was being around Jace that spurned the increase and speed of her cycle. Her body was reacting to him. It called to him just like she had read it would.
Twisting the water off, Tala grabbed the dish towel to dry her hands and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall and into the bathroom. After tossing the towel on the vanity, she opened her medicine cabinet.
There were the usual items lining the shelves. Headache pills, antacids, vitamins, old prescription drugs. In the top corner on the top shelf was a bottle of unassuming eyedrops.
She took down the plastic container, titled her head back and opened her eyes wide. Holding it above her, she squeezed a drop of liquid into each eye. Pain, sharp and immediate, radiated over her.
She wanted to scream as liquid fire shot through her system. Tearing, ripping agony surged over her. It started in her eyes and raced from the top of her head to the tips of her big toes. It was the same every time. And every time she felt like dying.
Dropping the container into the sink, she shuffled sideways to find the toilet and sat down on the closed lid. Her legs were shaking too much to support her weight. Clamping her eyes shut to stem the tears, she buried her head in her hands and rode it out.
It was for the best, she told herself. She muttered that under her breath repeatedly until the adrenaline rush ended and the pain subsided to a dull ache.
When she was able to control her breathing again, she stood and went about cleaning up the mess. After everything was put away, she splashed cold water on her face and glanced in the mirror.
You’re okay, Tala. You’re a survivor.
After running a comb through her hair and applying a thin layer of lip gloss, Tala figured she was ready to go. She looked in control and that was all that mattered.
She left the bathroom and went into her living room to put on her shoes, her gun holster and her jacket. Once she had her holster on and was buckling it up, her phone rang. Not her cell phone but her home phone.
She hesitated to answer. There was likely only one person on the other end and Tala didn’t really want to talk to her today. But loyalty needled her and she snatched the phone on its sixth ring.
“I thought maybe you weren’t home,” her mother, Claudia, whined.
“I’m on the way out, Mother. Is there something you needed?”
“A mother can’t call her only child to see how she’s doing?”
Tala’s temples started to throb. It wouldn’t be long before she got a migraine. Her mother had the uncanny ability to bring one on instantly.
“I just saw you on Sunday, Mother. Everything was fine then and everything is fine now.”
“Are you sure? I have a feeling that something is going on.”
“Nothing’s going on. I’m just doing my job as usual and coming home alone, as usual.” Tala couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She was getting tired of having the same conversations with her mother every week. Tired of supplying the same excuses.
“A mother knows, Tala.” She paused and Tala swore she could hear the woman’s brain grinding gears. “Are you stressed? If you are, you have to remember to increase your doses.”
Tala wanted to scream at her. To rant and rage about what she just put herself through. That her mother had no clue the pain and suffering she endured day after day. And that it was all her mother’s fault.
But she held her tongue. As usual.
“I told you law enforcement was the wrong career for you, Tala. You need to do something less stressful with your life. I thought you liked working at the bank.”