Reaper

1. Clipped Wings

ONE

CLIPPED WINGS

One Year Later

Ava

His loud snoring fills the room. I watch him closely as I sit up, then drag the duvet off me. When I turn to the edge of the bed, it causes pain to shoot up my side, making my eyes squeeze shut. When my feet hit the floor, I slowly stand, but the bed creaks. It makes my stomach drop. My eyes flick to him, but he’s still asleep. I grab my phone from the nightstand. My feet pad on the floor as I tiptoe out of the room. My heartbeat is surging as I quietly pull the door shut.

Using my phone as a light, I move to the closet in the spare room, then reach up and grab the old beanie. I open it up to pick out the cash I’ve been saving. I take my jeans and a loose shirt off the hanger and get changed. I put on a black coat and leave the hood up to cover my head.

I grab the backpack with shaky hands and sling it over my shoulder. In the kitchen, I grab my purse and place the money inside.

I peek back once more before I open the front door and step outside.

Fresh air meets my face, making me shiver, but I know it’s not just from the cold. I dart down the stairs, then run onto the road, even though every step brings me pain. I run as if someone is chasing me, and even though he’s in bed, asleep, it still feels like he’s here with me. I hope the fear leaves me, even if it means hiding away from him forever.

A few streets away, I reach an area surrounded by trees and bushes and pull my phone from my pocket and make a call, even though it fills me with shame.

When she answers, loud music and shuffling echoes in the background.

“Ava, is that you?”

My mouth goes dry. I’m so weak. I never used to be this person, and here I am, calling my younger sister for help.

“Ava?”

“Hey, Elena,” I say through sniffling.

“Who’s that calling?” a man asks.

“Shh . . . It’s my sister,” Elena says.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asks, sounding worried.

For the first time, I say, “No. I’m not.”

“What happened?”

My stomach plummets. A car rolls by, so I hide behind a tree, paranoid it could be him. “I need to get out of here,” I whisper, my voice coarse.

There’s a brief silence before she speaks. “What’s he done?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just need somewhere to stay before I get back on my feet, that’s all.” I’ll quickly burn through that money I saved if I have to pay for accommodation.

“At one in the morning?”

I didn’t think this through. She would have a lot of questions. I’ve had no contact with her since the wedding, and before that we had been distant for years.

She answers, “You can stay here, if you’re okay with staying at a clubhouse because we haven’t brought our own place yet.”

My sister married a biker a year ago, and at any point, I would have said no way, but I will stay anywhere. “That’s fine. I promise I won’t stay long. It’s just until I can get a job.”

“Are you guys getting a divorce or something?”

Pausing, I close my eyes. “Something like that.”

She sighs. “I’m glad you’re getting out of that marriage. It felt like I lost you to him. You stopped calling.”

She pays more attention than I thought.

“I’ll catch a bus there. Can you tell me the address?”

“Don’t be stupid. You have to tell me something.”

I exhale through my mouth, knowing no makeup could hide the bruise on my face from yesterday afternoon.

“So am I meeting you at your house, or . . .?”

“No.”

“I’m coming.” I hear the male voice again.

I have met her husband only briefly, so I’m not sure how he will react.

“Where am I picking you up?”

I think he’ll check public transportation for me if he wakes up. “Do you remember the park near my house?” I don’t think he’ll look for me at the park. I can get there from here without going on the road.

“At this time of night? Are you insane?”

“Please . . .” My voice is strained.

Again, she sighs. “Promise me you’ll call if you see anything suspicious.”

“I will.”

“Okay, we will get there as soon as we can.”

Relief floods me, and I make my way to the trail that leads to the park. Without the lights from the street, it’s darker, so I turn on my phone’s flashlight. Luckily for me, the dirt track has been cleared because the kids use it to ride their bikes through here.

It’s eerily quiet as I walk through, and those intrusive thoughts flood my brain. I’m so pitiful that I’ve had to call my sister for help. I should have gotten out of the marriage sooner. I saw the red flags and talked to Mom about it, but she encouraged me to stay. I should have known better than to converse with her, but who else was I going to talk to? The only people Beau approved of were my parents.

My ankle rolls on unsteady ground, and I cry out in agony when I land hard. My hands burn from protecting my head and body from the fall. I sit up through a hissed breath and reach out for my phone, which slid under a small shrub. I wipe my hand on my coat to get rid of the dirt, and when I peer down, blood is trickling from the wound. I swap my phone to my bleeding hand to check the other, but it’s fine.

When I pull my jeans up my calf, I see my ankle is swelling. The swelling is accompanied by a dull ache. My body is sore, but I’m not sure whether it’s from the fall or from yesterday. I grasp my bag, bring it to the front of me, and search through it until I find the water bottle. I twist the lid and tip a little on my bleeding hand. It stings, but the dirt and blood run off my hand and onto the ground.

When the bleeding stops, I twist the cap on the bottle and put it back in the bag, then leverage myself up with my other hand. I wipe my damp face with my arm, take a deep breath, and step to walk again. My ankle throbs, so I limp the rest of the way.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I swipe a little more dirt off the screen before answering it. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Elena asks.

“I’m nearly there.”

“What’s with the heavy breathing? Are you walking?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I reply and hang up. I turn off my phone, take the SIM card out, then snap the card in half and throw it away.

When I reach the clearing, I can see the silhouette of a person swinging on a swing. I have an inkling it’s my sister, and I hobble in her direction. The swing stops abruptly.

“Ava,” she calls out and runs toward me.

I close my eyes and brace for the impact. Her arms come around me, and she hugs me fiercely, taking all the air out of my lungs. Everything is painful, especially my ribs.

When she pulls back, she asks, “What’s going on?”

“Yeah. What is going on?” a deep voice asks. I jump. The familiar panic makes my stomach churn.

Elena touches my shoulder gently. I try not to flinch, but I can’t help it. Every part of me is on edge.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice soft. “It’s only Jake.”

I nod, though my heart doesn’t slow.

We are in the shadows, so I can’t see her clearly. She grasps my sore hand, and I pull it from hers at once. “I fell over.”

“Um . . . okay. Well, let’s get you cleaned up?”

I follow the two, who are whispering to each other.

He unlocks a van, and as he opens the door, the inside light comes on. When he gets into it, I get a better glimpse of him. He looks the same as he did at their wedding, though his playful mood from that night is nowhere to be seen.

Elena gasps, one hand covering her mouth, and so many emotions cross her face. Sadness and anger, then sympathy. It burns me to see that in her eyes. This isn’t supposed to be how my life turned out. My shoulders drop. I’m so pathetic.

She wipes the corner of her eye with her hand, but she doesn’t speak. She stands rigid and stares at me.

Jake clears his throat. “C’mon, Elena, let’s get out of here.” When I turn to look at him, his eyes widen, then he looks at his wife and frowns.

“Get in,” he says to me, underscoring his words with a jerk of his head.

I avoid eye contact with Elena as I pull the backpack off, get into the back of the van, and slide the door shut.

Her soft cries follow the slam of the car door. His hand goes across to her thigh to comfort her. The guilt of making her cry fills me with regret. I hate seeing her sad because of me.

Once we’re driving, Jake’s eyes flick between the road and the rearview mirror.

“Do you have anything for her?” Elena asks through sniffling. “Like first aid or a clean towel or something.”

“Ah, yeah. There should be a metal box in the back there.”

“I’m good,” I say.

Elena turns to face me, with her eyes slightly narrowed. “You are far from good.” A tinge of frustration weaves into her tone.

“I . . . Thank you for picking me up. I promise I won’t stay for long. As soon as I get a job, I’ll be out of your hair.” Being a burden is my worst nightmare come true.

Her voice softens. “You can stay as long as you like.”

“Let me run it through Reaper first before you make promises for a long-term stay—” says Jake.

“I have money. Not much, but I’ve been saving. I’m happy to help clean and cook and whatever I can until I find a place of my own.”

“Since you’ve asked us to pick you up in the middle of the night. I’m going to presume your husband or ex-husband doesn’t know you’ve left. If we’re bringing you into the clubhouse, is he going to come looking for you? What should we expect to happen?”

Focusing on my bag, I fidget with the handle. “He doesn’t know I left or where I’m going, so there shouldn’t be any issues. He might search for me, but he won’t know that I’ll be with Elena.”

“Yeah . . . and what’s with the black eye and bruised cheek?” asks Jake.

“When he lost his job, his drinking got worse, so I packed a bag and started saving money because I didn’t know how much longer I could handle his nasty remarks and controlling behavior. But yesterday was the first day that he hit me, and I knew it was time to leave because he was out of control and if I didn’t get out now”—I lift my hand to my throat—“I don’t know how far he would go next time.”

Because there would be a next time . . . There is always a next time.

Elena faces me. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you leave when it got bad? You should have called me; I would have been there for you.”

Worthlessness bubbles up inside of me. “I didn’t think it would come to this. We had to get through it together. I really tried to make it work.” Self-loathing takes its place because maybe I didn’t try hard enough.

Closing my eyes, I bring my feet up onto the seat and pull my knees to my chest to hug myself. Distant chatter continues, and exhaustion weighs heavily on me. I’m floating, followed by music and muffled voices, but the pull to sleep is stronger, and it takes over once more.