Free Broken by Willow Rose Page A

couldn't be seen like this. I ran inside and into the bathroom where
the transformation had happened initially. I pulled on my underwear and grabbed
the rest of my clothes before I walked upstairs trying to leap two steps at the
time. How completely ordinary it suddenly seemed to walk on two legs. How dull
and completely powerless. Just a few moments earlier I had been running with
such strength, such ability, on my four muscular jaguar-legs, and now I had to
walk like this? Like a physically inferior being.
    A peek through William’s door showed he was still
sound asleep. Heather on the other hand was up. She was even out of bed. I
stopped at the door that was slightly open and stared at her. I felt a pinch of
guilt in my heart. She seemed to be searching for something. I pushed the door
open. She turned and looked at me. Surprised. Like I had caught her in the
middle of something.
    "Feeling better?" I asked.
    She nodded. "Yeah. I woke up this morning feeling
all better. I guess it helped seeing Dr. Harris after all." She stared at
the clothes in my hands.
    "I slept in the guest-bedroom down stairs to give
you the rest. I was afraid I’d keep you awake with my constant tossing and
turning all night." I said while avoiding her eyes. "You know how bad
I’ve been sleeping lately."
    She nodded like she didn't quite believe me, but
didn't care enough to fight about it or even question it. I walked to the
bathroom and threw my clothes in the hamper. As I accidentally stuck my hand in
it I hit something hard. I pulled it out and looked at Heather. "Is this
what you are searching for?" I asked and held up the bottle of gin that
was half empty. "Can't you even remember where you hide the stuff
anymore?"
    She stared at me then walked towards me. She grabbed
the bottle out of my hand.
    I sighed. "It's seven o'clock in the morning,
Heather. You've been sick for days. Why do you want to drink alcohol now? Why
were you hiding it in the hamper? Who were you hiding it from? Me?"
    She opened the bottle and put it to her lips. Then she
drank like it was water in the bottle or a soda. When she was done she sighed
and sat on the bed. "I just need it, okay? I need it to get me through the
day," she said and drank once again.
    I breathed deeply and sat next to her on the bed.
"Don't you think it is about time we got you some help?" I asked. I
knew the answer perfectly well. I had asked this many times but she had always
refused getting professional help. She had this under control, she said. But I
knew she didn't. It had gotten a lot worse lately.
    "I'm fine," she said. "I just need a
little to get me going. Then I'll be the wife you want me to be. Then I'll be
your trophy."
    "I didn't marry you for you to be my
trophy," I said bitterly.
    She drank and looked at me when she was done.
"No, why did you marry me Chris? Tell me why you did it. It wasn't out of
love, that's certain. Was it for my name? For the prestige? Tell me Chris.
Let's get it out in the open."
    I sighed and stood up. "I'm not going there with
you again. I don't have the time or the energy for it. I have to shower before
I go to work."
    "Fine. Leave me like you always do." She was
getting tipsy now and her voice was shaking. I heard the slosh of the bottle
again when she drank some more.
    I turned and looked at her with disgust. "For
heaven's sake, Heather. At least wait until William is off to school."
    She drank again. "I'll have Sarah take him. He
will never know."
    I grabbed the bottle out of her hand in fury. Then I
threw it against the wall. It shattered all over the floor. "No, he will
never know. Do you know why?"
    "Do tell me dearest. Why is that?" She
rolled her eyes at me.
    "Because he hardly knows his own mother. Because
he never spends any time with you at all. He is growing up thinking Sarah is
closer to being a mother than you are. It's sad, Heather. It's really sad. And
I am sick and tired of making excuses for you. Telling him 'Mother is not
feeling well, Mother