Give Me Strength (2 page)

“Their time will come,” she’d tell me with eyes
so steely she belonged in a Quentin Tarantino film.

Having finally finished squeezing my rapidly
expanding belly into the too tight jeans, I hit the living room.
The smile died on my lips like yesterday’s news. It slid from my
face, and had it been tangible, it would have splattered on the
floor.

A hand was planted on my chest and shoved,
making me stumble backwards.

“‘Bout time you showed your whore face,” David
slurred.

My lungs constricted in fear, and it was almost
a relief because he smelled like he’d taken a dive in a dumpster.
His hair was filthy, his clothes rumpled and rank, but despite his
obvious stupor, he looked mean and mean usually equalled pain.

I straightened my spine and growled, “Get
out.”

“You just invited me in, so fuck you,” was his
reply.

I looked for my phone and saw it on the kitchen
counter behind him. I’d have to get passed him to reach it.

“I’ll call the cops,” I warned, my threat as
useless as it sounded if his smirk was anything to go by.

“Sure you will, Quinn, and when they get here an
hour later because you’re not worth their time, I sure as shit
won’t be here.”

I took a step backwards. “Why
are
you
here?”

David followed, jabbing his finger in my chest,
and my skin crawled at the touch. “Beth left me and it’s your
fault. Your...” jab “...fucking...” jab “...fault.”

Beth adored David’s dirty money, why she would
say goodbye to it surprised me.

I narrowed my eyes despite my stomach rolling in
fear and let all the contempt I felt show through. “What’s the
matter, David? Your well of cash dry up? Has she moved on to
someone who can—”

My head exploded into fire when his fist made
contact with the side of my face. Staggering backwards at the
force, my hands made a desperate grab for the couch to hold my
weight. I shuffled back a step but his fist was a blur as he came
at me again. I tried to let out a shout for Lucy, but with the lack
of air, it came out as a breathless moan of agony.

I made a run for the door, but he planted both
hands on my back and slammed me hard into the wall. My forehead hit
the plaster with a loud crack, and I fell to my knees. Then he
started kicking me, and when I rolled into a ball, his foot came
down on the side of my face, and he crushed it into the floor,
laughing. He fucking laughed and I wanted to rip his face off.

I clawed my fingers into the carpet in an effort
to get up, as his fists pounded me. When a shout came at the door,
he kicked me in my side.

“This isn’t over.”

The world shifted, I heard yelling, then Lucy
was there chanting, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

“Hurts.” I struggled to breathe. Then another
pain came. The kind of pain that made everything else fade into the
background. I clutched my stomach as agony ripped me apart from the
inside. “Lucy,” I moaned.

I felt a brush of her hand against my hair.
“Paramedics are coming, honey.”

I rolled over and swallowed, trying not to choke
on the fear. “I’m losing the baby.”

Lucy’s panic stricken eyes found mine. “No.”

***

Three
and a half years later…

My last chance of escape took off in a squeal of
tyres. Were the hounds of hell on his heels? Hardly. He was a
Sydney cab driver. The fact that Lucy and I arrived at our
destination in one piece was proof that seatbelts did, in actual
fact, save lives.

My hands trembled as they smoothed the front of
my dress. It was bright yellow, short, and backless. It was also
brand new. The crafty salesgirl had appealed to the inferiority
complex within by telling me it made me look taller. According to
her degree in Fashionista 101, it also made my brown eyes big—like
Bambi—and as much as I wasn’t aiming for a deer in the headlights
look, I got sucked in anyway. Not that I actually owned the dress.
That honour belonged to my bank when I handed over my credit card.
It sounded good in theory, but guilt for the one-off splurge was
overwhelming.

I fiddled with my hair, and Lucy smacked at my
hand. She’d worked hard to create the tousled waves I was busy
destroying with nerves. “Stop it, Quinn. Tonight is your bitch. Act
like it.”

My spine snapped straight, and I curled my
fingers tightly around the borrowed clutch as my eyes fell on the
front entrance of the Florence Bar—a venue renowned for featuring
hot, new Australian bands. The doors opened and the heavy bass
ricocheted outwards, filling the busy city street and pounding into
my chest. It increased my anxiety and my breath came in little
pants.

“Quinn, this is your first night out in so long.
Live a little.” She frowned at me when I gifted her with my fake
smile. “Now say it. Tonight is my bitch.”

I sighed. It was true. I never went out, but
losing Ethan and then my baby soon after, made recovery an endless
process. Every time I found something special, it was snatched
away. I was afraid of that happening again. It became easy to
retreat from life and simply watch from the sidelines. Special
never found you when you hid yourself away, and that was how I
liked it. Lucy wouldn’t give up on me though, and now here I was,
unsure of myself but putting one foot in front of the other, each
step bringing me closer to the bar. Maybe that meant I wasn’t ready
to give up on myself just yet either. Unfortunately, admitting to
that didn’t appear to be making tonight any easier.

I frowned back. “Saying it doesn’t make it true,
Luce.”

“Sure it does.” She took my arm and herded me
towards two bouncers who were busy guarding the bar’s inner sanctum
as though God himself was inside having a few. “I don’t care if you
have to lie,” she declared. “Lie. Lie your ass off. Just say
it.”

“Tonight is my bitch,” I repeated dutifully.

“Say it like you mean it,” she demanded.

“Can we just get this over with?” I snapped,
eyeing the long line of impatient people waiting to get in. Flash
bulbs dotted my vision as people famous enough to get caught by the
paparazzi paraded by. I blinked rapidly to restore my sight and
eyeballed bouncer one and two, wondering whether they could scent
fear. Then the fear took a new turn as the hairs on the back of my
neck stood up, sending goosebumps down my spine. Breathless, I
turned and scanned the street, but I couldn’t pinpoint anything
that would give cause for alarm.

I pushed the eerie feeling aside, but Lucy
already noted my panicked expression with an exasperated sigh.
“You’re not walking the green mile, Quinn. You’re simply here to
have a good time.”

Rubbish. Absolute, utter rubbish. When a rare
night off from work heralded its arrival, a good time was had by
welcoming it warmly with wine, reality television, and
sweatpants.

Her fingers dug in as we reached the bouncer on
the left. The man looked like Wolverine, complete with fierce
glower, wild hair, and a beard. Despite the scruff, he rocked a
suit. It didn’t surprise me. It was only fitting a bar like this
had bouncers tipping the hot scale of the spectrum. According to
Lucy, getting inside this place was the equivalent of winning a
golden ticket, but apparently she knew one of these two burley
sentries, and it appeared that Wolverine was it.

The doors opened and I peeked around his massive
bulk and into the deep recesses of the bar. Inside was an
atmosphere that was now so foreign to me it was like watching one
of the nature documentaries I loved.

“
Here you will find the Australian Man, a
generally good looking human specimen, drinking in his habitual
environment, socialising, laughing and talking, waiting patiently
for his moment when the female breaks rank from the herd
and—”

Her eyes on me, Lucy muttered, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“I can see your mind ticking over. You’re doing
that David Attenborough thing again, aren’t you?”

“No,” I lied and folded my arms.

Lucy bit her lip but the laugh, full and
throaty, bubbled out of her. “You’re such a dork. We really need to
get you out more.”

“Good luck with that,” I murmured to myself.

Lucy turned to Wolverine and dazzled him with
her smile. “Hi, Sean.”

The lines of people, shamelessly queue jumped by
Lucy, watched us with hissing resentment. I averted my eyes and
focused on my feet. They were encased in navy coloured shoes:
peeptoe with a heel the height of a small building. They were the
shoes that went with everything, even the bright yellow I was
wearing. I couldn’t do the slinky black look the way all the women
waiting to get in could—rocking the sex vibe like they were all
born to it. Maybe when I was young and looking for trouble black
was the only colour that fit me, but now colour was the only thing
that gave me life.

I peered up at Sean from beneath my lashes and
caught his returning smile and nod at my best friend.

“Luce,” he said, then he turned his gaze my way,
his eyes travelling the length of me.

I shifted uncomfortably but thankfully it didn’t
take long. My stature was tiny enough that I didn
’t
usually attract attention, and I liked it that way.
His eyes returned to mine, and they were packing heat. The kind of
heat that should’ve singed my skin off if I got too close. It made
sense. Make the customer feel good, they’ll come back. By the looks
of the line to get in, Wolverine spent a lot of time making the
customer feel good. “Who’s your friend?”

Lucy pulled me close and introduced me to
Sean.

Ever polite, I offered my hand and said, “Nice
to meet you.”

He took my hand and leaned close. “How come I
haven’t seen you here before?”

I looked at Lucy. She nodded at me, her wide
eyes urging me to say something. “Oh, well, I uh…don’t go out.
Much.”

Sean nodded and released my hand. He opened up
the big door to usher us through, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
It was short-lived. His big hand came out and landed on my stomach.
The light touch halted me in my tracks. “Shame.”

I met his eyes and he smiled at me, removed his
hand, and turned back to face the street. The interaction had my
nerves returning with full force, and I stumbled through the
entrance.

“Booth or bar?” came Lucy’s loud question.

Nerves had me beat and already I needed to take
five. “Neither,” I shouted back. “Bathroom.”

We pushed our way through throngs of people
crowding the glossy black bar and rows upon rows of button leather
booths and found the bathroom. I washed my hands and met my eyes in
the mirror as I waited for Lucy to finish. Midnight black mascara
highlighted the lashes surrounding my brown eyes. Foundation had
done its best to cover the small smattering of freckles across my
nose, but I could still see them. Rose blush gave colour to my fair
skin, and hot pink lipstick with a slick of strawberry flavoured
gloss covered the one feature I couldn’t complain about—full lips.
My hair was blonde, but not a beautiful golden colour. It was pale,
almost white, and the long waves had long since gone.

When I’d returned home after David put me in
hospital, I stood in front of the mirror and hacked it all off
myself. My eyes watched dispassionately as each lock dropped
carelessly to the ground. My outside needed to match the ugly on
the inside; therefore, the long, pretty locks needed to go. I’d let
it grow a little, but the choppy style was still short enough it
barely touched my shoulders.

Lucy reached across me for a paper towel to dry
her hands. A long sheet of black hair hung to her waist, piercing
blue eyes sat in a striking face with deep olive skin, and boobs
that preceded her into the room by at least a minute. I eyed mine.
They were a handful, but that was according to my small hands. I
sighed and we returned to the bar, rapidly snatching a booth that a
group of people were currently vacating.

“Sit,” Lucy said. “I’ll get the first
round.”

My eyes followed her movements and that was when
I saw him. He caught my eye because he was by the bar talking and
laughing as his friends spoke to him, but his eyes weren’t smiling.
I recognised the look because I’d seen it in the mirror. My heart
gave a small tug, and I was sure a bomb could’ve gone off and I
wouldn’t have noticed. Realising I was blatantly staring, I closed
my mouth and looked down at my hands.

Come on, Quinn. You can do this. There’s a
social animal inside there somewhere just waiting to cut loose.

I looked up and let my eyes wander the room,
knowing where they would land before they’d even stopped. They
found him again and took in his tall length, wide shoulders, and
tapered waist. Arms bulged with tanned muscle and thick veins. He
had a head of blond hair, shorter than mine, but long enough that
it just scraped into a ponytail. Loose strands were tucked casually
behind his ears, and it gleamed like spun gold under the lights of
the bar.