Free Ask Me to Stay by Elise K Ackers

uproariously and she swore. With effort, she struggled out from under his crushing torso and rested on her knees alongside him on the narrow bed.
    ‘C’mon, you drunk. Shuffle up there. That’s the way. On your pillow.’
    A moment passed and his breathing became soft. She trailed her fingertips along his temple, easing his hair back from his eyes.
    ‘Why do you drink so much?’ she crooned.
    She didn’t expect an answer, so was surprised when he attempted one. He murmured against the material, his words almost muffled. ‘To forget.’
    Her fingers stilled. ‘To forget what?’
    ‘What I know.’
    She continued to soothe, continued to stroke. ‘What do you know, Ethan?’
    He wasn’t so far gone that he would confess his secrets, she realised. There was a degree of clarity in his eyes, and, however dim, a sense of self-awareness.
    ‘Lie down with me,’ was his answer. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all night.’
    She withdrew her fingers. ‘I don’t think so.’
    His big hand found hers, so much larger than her own. Were he sober he might have done it with finesse, but his touch was clumsy. He bumped a palm along the line of her waist.
    ‘C’mere, Sammy-doll.’
    The nickname – of all things – was what snapped her back. She uncurled her legs and swung them off the bed. ‘I’m nobody’s one-night stand, Ethan Foster. Least of all yours.’
    He moaned and called to her, but she wasn’t interested in listening any more. She turned off the light, closed the bedroom door behind her and took a moment to steady herself. Her hands were shaking when she crossed the hallway to Dean’s room. She didn’t really expect to find Cal in there, but she wanted to search the house thoroughly.
    There was a body in Dean’s bed. She knew Dean was downstairs; she’d seen him only moments ago, but the shape and size was all wrong for it to be her brother.
    The thick carpet muffled her approach. The person within the sheets did not stir.
    Sam approached the head of the bed and pressed a hand to her heart. Nina slept on her mother’s pillow, her neck still laden with beads and chains.
    The little girl did not stir when Sam pulled the sheets back and gathered her into her arms. Nina hung limp, her hands and feet bouncing, as Sam carried her to her bedroom. It was awkward, balancing the sleeping child on her lap while Sam removed the jewellery, but after a few minutes she was able to lay Nina down without a single necklace encircling her throat. She balanced them all on the beside table, mindful that Nina would look for them immediately, and placed her tiny shoes near the foot of the bed. Nina smelled of smoke and dirt, and Sam resolved to come back tomorrow to wash both kids’ sheets.
    She crept from the room and wondered if there was anyone else she would need to put to bed.
    Sam stared into the fire, looking for answers, seeking understanding. Around her people slept in sleeping bags, propped up in seats, stretched over the ground, in the back seats of cars or in the trays of utes. The party was over. There was no man, woman or child left standing bar herself. And she was huddled in a tight little ball on her camp chair, unmoving, entranced by the fire. No one would guess she was awake.
    That was why she was the only one to know when another stirred.
    The back door slammed. Someone cursed. Footsteps. Unsteady ones.
    Sam peered around the hood of her jacket, half expecting the man she saw loping across the grass. He did not approach her or the dying fire, but headed for the property’s boundary. The new fence seemed to confuse him for a moment. He ducked beneath the threaded wire, tripped and fell.
    Another curse.
    Ethan gathered himself up, brushed himself down, and continued on his way. Walking into the darkness.
    Sam lowered her feet to the dirt, shook them to work the blood back into them, then stood. As quietly as she could manage, she removed her car keys from her pocket and hurried to the front of the house.