me staggering a few paces before I right myself and narrow my eyes on Rose as best I can—“is mine too. Anyone got a problem with that?” I hear no protests, though I can’t see any faces clearly to gage reactions. So I start walking, pin-balling off the walls as I make my way down the corridor. Fuck me, I’m a mess.
I see Esther coming out of the kitchen across the hallway, a tray in her hands. “Mother,” I sing, and she startles, stopping in her tracks and looking past me. I follow her stare over my shoulder and find not only Brad and Rose, but all my other men too. The fact that they are completely unaware as to Esther’s true identity is escaping me now. I shrug and return my attention to my mum. “Today I buried the man who saved me,” I declare. “The only . . . only fu . . . fucking person in this world whooooo had any t . . . ime for me.” I sway forward, getting my face up close to Esther’s. “Because you bloody didn’t, did you, huh? My own fucking mmmmotherrrr leaving me to be beat . . . beaten, raped, and tortured.” I think I hear a few gasps from behind me. I can’t be sure. “Thanks a million, Mum,” I sneer, blindly reaching for the handrail leading up the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”
“Good idea,” she says flatly, and I snort to myself, gazing up the stairs. There must be a million fucking steps.
I tackle the first, squinting, lifting my foot and settling it down on the same step. I hear a collection of gasps from behind me and swing around, a bit to quickly for my pissed head’s liking. Down I go with a whack, my arse hitting the edge of a step hard, my body sprawled, spanning at least ten of the million steps. “When did I get so many stairs?” I ask no one in particular.
“Ready?” Rose’s voice sounds thick and distant. Is she leaving? Fuck, she can’t.
“Someone stop her,” I demand. “She’s my prisoner.”
“Shut up, you jerk.” She’s close now, and I grapple thin air for her, feeling her breath on my cheek. “Ringo, get him under his legs. Brad, you get his arms. Esther, would you mind bringing some water to my room?”
“It’s my fucking room,” I spit, feeling my body leave the ground. “And I can walk.” I’m a joke. I can barely talk. “Youuuu are my prisoner.” My body starts to bob mildly, and Brad chuckles his way up the million steps, his face suspended above mine.
“What’s so fucking funny?” I snipe.
“The only prisoner I see around here is you, Danny.”
“Go fuck y—”
“I’ve fucked myself enough today, thanks.”
I land on something soft, my sense of smell bombarded with the sweet, stunning smell of her. I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, getting as much of it as I can. My eyes become impossible to keep open, and my mouth dries quickly from hanging open.
Rose. Rose Lillian Cassidy. Oh, how you’ve fucked me over good and proper. I fucking hate you. I hate everything. But I especially hate you.
No, you don’t.
Yes, I do.
You don’t.
I do.
Don’t.
Do.
“I don’t hate you,” I slur, my voice even more muffled, my body on the move. I drag myself to the edge of the bed, tossing my legs off the side and sitting up. The fucking room spins at a hundred miles an hour, around and around, forcing my hand to come up and cling to my head. “Fuck.” Where am I? What the fuck’s going on? I hear the door close and peek up through squinting eyes. The slim silhouette of a female figure approaches, finally coming into view when she’s just a foot away. I look up and lift my hand, reaching for Rose and tugging her forward until she’s standing between my legs. My head falls onto her stomach. I feel her hands in my hair. I settle against her. “I told you ev . . . everything about meeee,” I mumble. “And you won’t tell me anything about you.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she says, pacifying me, rubbing soothing circles through my hair with her fingers.
“No, now,” I order, forcing my limp body away from hers. “Talk to me now.”
She smiles. It’s the smile that makes me truly happy. A rare and precious smile. And I put it there. Her hand cups my cheek and she dips a little, coming close to