Mr. Control

by Maya Hughes

  The stench of cigarette smoke covered with some floral scent. I could feel the holes in the mattress under the clean sheet Colleen threw over top of it. From the outside, it looked like she’d cleaned herself up, but I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust her.

  Colleen kept things nice for a while. The first few weeks when the social worker checked in, but it wasn’t long before I came back from school and she’d gone through all my things. My bags ransacked, my belongings thrown on the floor, dresser drawers pulled out. She’d taken my clothes, my toys. I could only assume she’d sold them or traded them for money or drugs. Or hell, maybe she just threw them out to spite me. I stood in the doorway and it all came crashing down, I was back to being me.

  It was months later that I finally snapped. I had to walk home from the bus stop. I didn’t have a coat anymore. No umbrella to shield me from the pelting rain. Water soaked me through to the bone, as Colleen cackled and drank with her friends. My bear, the pink bear I’d hidden, so she wouldn’t take, it sat out on the floor. His insides ripped apart. One of Colleen’s friends had brought a dog with him, and it was busy tearing apart, and gnawing on my bear.

  I stared at Colleen, my body vibrating with rage. I threw down my bag and launched myself at her. She turned to me, sluggish as always, moving in slow motion, and I wanted to claw her eyes out.

  “Why did you bring me back? Why did you even want me? Why couldn’t you have just let me stay?” I screamed at her as one of the guys pulled me off her and held me back.

  “If I don’t get to escape this life, sweetie, you sure as hell don’t, either.” Her eyes were glassy and hollow, and she threw her head back and laughed. Laughing at me and everything she’d ever done to me. I left, my anger no longer getting the better of me. I left and ran to the one place that I knew I’d be safe again. Only that didn’t turn out the way I’d planned. It just broke me a little more.

  23

  RHYS

  As the elevator door opened I was met with an aroma that immediately made me think of Christmas. It was a mixture of cinnamon, citrus, and cloves. At least that’s what I imagined. My childhood had been much more austere. Less Christmas cheer and more paid companionship by a host of nannies while my parents were out saving the world. I don’t know why they thought it would be a better idea to leave me behind than take me, but that’s what they did. Almost every day of my life was spent on my own with people paid to look after me.

  Not only was I overwhelmed by the delicious smells, but my ears perked up at the joyful music that danced through the apartment. It wasn’t until I set my bag down that I realized the singing wasn’t from the radio. It was from Esme. There they were. My girls. It hit me so hard, like a gut punch when I looked up and found them stringing a popcorn garland around the tree. Esme was so carefree and happy. Mel did that. She gave me back my little girl.

  I stood and watched them for a while, so engrossed in their task, they didn’t even notice me. The lights they’d already strung twinkled and the light bounced off the large windows in front of the tree. Mel had a chair pulled up tight to the tree and Esme handed her ornaments. Some of the ornaments looked homemade, like they’d just been made today. Tracings of their hands made to look like birds, something made of clay, and others that went along with the crystal and glass ornaments I’d had Rachel pick up earlier.

  This felt right. I’d sent Rachel to get the ornaments I got every year. The ones my parents had for the photo ops of the perfect family in front of their tree. Looking at my girls now, I shook my head. I’d fallen into my parents’ pattern again. Keeping up appearances, even in my own house. This was better. It felt better, like a real family. Was that what we were now? Were we a family? Would Mel still be here, if I weren’t paying her?

  Mel glanced over her shoulder and caught my eye. A huge smile spread across her face.

  “You’re home,” she said. Esme turned and ran to me, jumping into my arms. Mel came over and wrapped her arms around me too. I breathed them both in. The two women in my life, I didn’t care if Mel wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’d think about it later. Worry about it later. Right now, I just wanted to enjoy this. The baggage of the day melted away when I had them in my arms, and I’d do whatever was necessary, to keep them there.

  I had a feeling this Christmas would be better than any I’d had before. Growing up, I despised Christmas. Maybe that was why I preferred to keep it impersonal, mimicking the tree my parents chose. Everyone always thought Christmas must have been the most amazing thing when you had parents like mine. They were so generous, so loving, so caring. But no-one knew who they really were.

  My parents’ guilt and shame at how my father made his money in the past, ate away at my father. It infected his mind and turned his altruism into a disease. One that robbed me of a childhood and of loving, caring parents. I was never allowed anything of my own. Every toy, every gift, every personal possession would be taken from me the moment they felt I cared too much about it. “Someone else deserves it more.” “You already have so much.” Those were the refrains of my childhood. And if I protested too much? I’d felt the sting of my father’s hand more than once. So much for charity starting at home.

  My closets were bare except for my school uniforms and three sets of clothes. When any of my nannies commented on my lack of toys, books, clothes or anything else like that, they were out, replaced by the next one. I’d sit in a barren room with nothing but a bed and a lamp and stare out the windows at other kids riding their bikes or jumping rope outside. My grandmother, perhaps sensing that something was amiss, gave me a book.

  It was a standard children’s book, nothing special about it, but it was everything. I cherished it. I read it every night, tucking it under my pillow when I went to bed. I had every line committed to memory. Every picture, every bend and crease of the book. It was the one thing that was finally mine. She would bake with me, spend time with me, she’d been the only one who seemed to care about me for just being me. And when she died it became even more important to me. She was the only one who truly loved me. The only person who never wanted anything from me other than a hug and some help cracking the eggs.

  Every year the tree was piled high with presents, but I knew none were for me. My parents would take pictures in front of them and do interviews about all their good work. And it was the same every year, “Our son Rhys would like to donate every gift he’s received to the less fortunate.” I was fine with it, it didn’t bother me at this point. But one year they brought in another child to accept a special gift I was to give away for a live Christmas special highlighting one year of the most generous donations from a single benefactor—my parents.

  They handed it to me and brought me face to face with the little boy. He had scraggly hair, overly large clothes, but otherwise he could have been my mirror image. Same hair, same eyes, I smiled at him and he smiled back. Even then I knew how to play my part, but for him I was happy to give him something new.

  Cameras trained on us, my mother handed the ornately wrapped present to me. The red and green bow sparkled with glitter and covered at least half the gift. As soon as I touched it, my hands trembled. I knew what was inside. I’d committed that book to memory, inside and out. Every aspect of it seared into my memory. I held it every day, read it every day.

  “Give it to him. You must not be selfish. You already have so much,” my dad said from behind me, his grip on my shoulder tightening. I clutched it to my chest and my father squeezed my shoulder so hard it made me whimper, but I didn’t want to hand it over. It wasn’t until he jabbed the bruise I already had under my shirt that I let go of it.

  I held it out to the boy and watched him rip into the paper. Each tear exposing what I already knew. They’d taken it from me. I lunged without thinking and my dad grabbed me, jamming his fist into my back, bringing tears to my eyes. I bit my tongue so hard the salty taste of blood flooded my mouth, but I held back my tears. I know what would happen if I let one fall. You can’t beat altruism i
nto someone, but that didn’t mean my father didn’t try.

  “You already have more than enough. It’s not for you,” he said. Nothing ever was. And that was the last day I lived with them. The last day I was home, not that there was much to go home to. They shipped me off to boarding school and I was still there when they died. Boarding school, where I could finally have some freedom, make friends and begin a life all my own.

  When my parents died, people comforted and consoled me, offering their condolences for my loss. It seemed the world was mourning, but not me. People swore I’d be heartbroken. I didn’t know my parents as the charitable and good-hearted people everyone else saw. To me, they had a sickness. Making money in weapons, strip mining impoverished countries had made them wealthy, but the court of public opinion and investors sentiments became too harsh on them. They changed their ways, which benefited the world, but changed them. They were so driven by the need to make up for what they’d done that I didn’t even get a chance to have a real childhood. I was an instrument of their altruism, used to demonstrate how selfless they were. They’d withheld something that didn’t cost a thing, their love and affection.

  24

  MEL

  My morning went from bad to worse as I returned from dropping Esme off at school. The heavens opened and a freak hailstorm had started, pelting me with ice, four blocks into my nine-block walk home. Derek followed us to school in the car, but once I’d dropped Esme off, I’d told him to go on home. Stupid on my part for not checking the forecast. I dashed for cover under our building’s awning. The doorman held the door open for me, but held his hand up to stop me.

  “Ms. Bright, you have a visitor,” he said, pointing to the far side of the entrance. My stomach plummeted. Colleen. She looked a hell of a lot worse than the last time I’d seen her. She looked to be down to her last few teeth. Her face was gaunt, with her scraggly blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. She’d been pretty once. I still remember all the men who paraded through the house who thought as much. But those days were long behind her.

  I shuddered to think I could have ended up like her. If it weren’t for Shannon. I might have lived with her for only one year, but she was my mom. She was more a mom to me in that one year than Colleen had been in my whole life.

  Even though Shannon and Ben broke my heart. Even though they didn’t want me after all. At least I’d had my time there. My time where I felt like I was important. Maybe that was enough to save me.

  I grabbed Colleen by the arm and dragged her around the corner. The last thing I needed was Rhys, Derek or someone else walking in and seeing her here. Me bringing my baggage into his life wasn’t part of the deal.

  “Looks like you finally got back to where you always thought you belonged, huh? Finally, found another rich family to take you in?” she said, as she stumbled to keep up with me. I ducked under the awning of a nearby shop and spun to face her.

  “What do you want, Colleen?” I said, folding my arms across my chest. The sooner she spewed her venom, the sooner I could get rid of her.

  “Can’t a mother come visit her daughter in the big city? You never call, you never write. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you didn’t want to see me,” she said, cackling, a cough overtaking her. She bent over, a coughing fit overcame her.

  “I told you not to come. You wiped out my account. You should have more than enough. I even put some extra in there. You told me you lost the card to the account,” I said, my eyes shooting daggers at her. She smiled slyly, putting her missing teeth on full display.

  “I did lose it and then I found it again. And when I checked it, I found out you’ve been holding out on me. Always telling me you don’t have any money. Nothing to give me. I’m your mother, damnit. I deserve some respect.” That was the final straw.

  “You think you deserve my respect? You think after all the shit you pulled when I was growing up that you deserve anything?” I asked, backing her up and out from under the protection of the awning. My hands shook and I tucked them tighter against myself.

  “You always thought you were better, didn’t you, especially after coming back from that family. Thought you deserved so much more.”

  “I thought I deserved clean clothes and food, Colleen. Any kid deserves that,” I said, my voice going up an octave. She rolled her eyes. This was going nowhere. I needed her to leave. I needed her gone. Now.

  “Why are you here? What do you want?”

  “I need more money. I’m sure you have that now. You’ve got this big fancy job. Won’t return my calls. Give me some money and I’ll go away,” she said, ducking her head as bits of icy rain pelted her.

  “Fine. But if I give you this money, you leave, do you hear me? You leave and you never come back. I don’t want to hear from you ever again. I don’t want you coming near me. I want you gone.” Her head nodded before I even finished my sentence. A part of me was sad that my own mother would agree to something like this, that she didn’t even care enough to put up a fight. And the rest of me was so relieved that I’d never have to see her again. That I’d never have to look at her face and have it reflect back all the screwed-up crap I’d lived through.

  “Fine, I can catch the next bus home, if you get me the money in two hours,” she said, grinning.

  Even more reason for me to hurry. She gave me the bus depot address across the river, and I told her I’d bring her the money. I hadn’t spent much since I started working for Rhys. The paychecks were ridiculous anyway. I’d made more in a couple months than I’d made in nearly a year at the diner. Giving her some of it would set back my plans by only a couple of months. Plans I didn’t even know if I’d go through with. I didn’t know how long Rhys would keep me around. How long this thing between us would last. What were we? What was I to him? I didn’t know yet and I was afraid to learn the answer.

  25

  RHYS

  “Killian,” I said, as I entered my office. Fucking prick lay on my office couch like he didn’t have a care in the world. His arms rested behind his head and his feet were crossed at the ankles. He was the picture of relaxation, and I clenched my fists to keep myself from attacking him again. He seemed to relish it when I lost control.

  I couldn’t believe Rachel just let him into my office like this. Something was up with her lately and I didn’t know what it was, but she seemed distracted and distant. Things were slipping through the cracks.

  “Rhys, so nice of you to turn up. I’ve been here for hours,” he said, taking his hands from behind his head.

  “Maybe if you’d made an appointment, you wouldn’t have had to wait so long. What do you want, Killian?” His visit was out of the blue, but everything Kill did was calculated, and pre-meditated. My temper flared.

  I knew he was behind the board elections, but what I didn’t know was why.

  “I have a proposition for you that I’d like you to consider,” he said, standing from the couch and plopping down in one of the chairs in front of my desk. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned forward, a big smile on his face.

  “I’d like to talk about how we can get you out of this little board-election situation.” His smug smile almost had me vaulting over the desk to wrap my hands around his neck, but I needed to get to the bottom of this and find out what his motive was.

  “And what situation would that be?” My self-restraint creeping up to my limit.

  “Cut the shit, Rhys. I know all about the stipulations of your parents’ will. I know that you’re going to get nothing if you don’t sill hold your current board positions on your birthday coming up. But that’s not why I’m here. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m here for justice, for Beth.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Justice for what?” I fumed. He was a man I considered a friend and it came back to bite me in the ass. Justice?

  “Oh, I think you know there’s a lot more at stake than just your bank accounts. I don’t think you want anyone to find out about what you did to Beth,” he sai
d, rage pouring off him in waves.

  “What I did to Beth? I did nothing, but try to provide the best for her. I did everything I could to keep her safe. I tried to help her.” I slammed my hand against the cold glass of my desk, so hard my knuckles throbbed.

  “Helped her right into an early grave,” he said, his teeth clenched.

  “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” The muscles in my neck were so tight, I was afraid something would snap. He didn’t know anything about it. How hard I tried to keep her away from the drugs. How hard it was to live with someone who’d lie through her teeth to get her next score. Put her own daughter in danger chasing after a fix. She’d been from the same neighborhood as Killian and never felt like she fit in in my world. Maybe part of that was my fault, but I did everything I could short of chaining her to the bed.

  “And you think the boards are going to have an issue with Beth’s drug addictions? You think they are going to let go of the steady money that gets deposited to every one of the charity bank accounts? I did everything I could for Beth. I tried so hard to help her stay clean. I’ve been playing this game for a long time. I’m disappointed in you, Killian. I’d have thought someone like you would have had a much better plan than that. Come on,” I said, dropping into my chair. The tightness in my chest ebbing away just a bit. If that was his ace in the hole, then screw him and his empty threats.

  “I’m not talking about Beth’s addiction, I’m talking about her murder,” he said, his eyes blazing, fury churning just as deeply as mine.

  “Murder? Really? Why would I murder Beth?” I said, trying to keep my voice level.