Free Shattered: A Shade novella by Jeri Smith-Ready

it two or two-and-a-half teaspoons?’
    ‘Two
and a half, unless it’s the Assam, then two. Perhaps you could write it down.’
    I
slam the teapot on the granite worktop. It cracks into half a dozen pieces.
Cursing under my breath, I sweep them into my hands and cross to the rubbish
bin.
    ‘That
was my mother’s.’
    I
look at her stony face, the pieces still in my cupped palms. ‘Sorry. I’ll fix
it.’
    She
rubs her temples, looking older than I’ve ever seen her. ‘I’m sorry I snapped
at you for being forgetful. I know you’re still not sleeping well. None of us
is.’
    Cos I wake you screaming.
    ‘Zachary,
are you angry with your father and me for leaving you behind in the States?’
    ‘You’d
no choice.’ I take another teapot from the cupboard. ‘They deported you.’
    ‘That
doesn’t change the fact you were abandoned by your own parents. Perhaps you
feel you can’t show your anger to Dad because he’s sick. So I end up taking
it.’
    ‘I’m
sorry.’ Those words seem to be all I say to my mother these days.
    ‘Don’t
be. I can take it.’
    ‘Well,
you shouldn’t have to.’ I turn away. ‘I’ll bring this up when it’s ready.’
    She
takes the hint and leaves me alone. As I open the cupboard to fetch the tea, I realise Aura and Martin have been chatting a long time. I
may have, em , mischaracterised to her what happened between our mates and us. Not lied, exactly. I’d never lie
to her.
    Ach,
I’m lying to myself even thinking that. Now that I’ve started, by hiding how
bad things really are, I don’t know how to stop.
    I
stare into the cupboard. What was I
looking for? The kettle whistles. Oh,
right. I reach for the tin of tea.
    ‘Hey!’
Martin’s voice startles me, and the tin tumbles out of my grasp onto the floor.
‘Ye told Aura we weren’t speaking to our mates cos of me ?’
    ‘I
told her there was a fight.’ I pick up the tin, the lid of which luckily stayed
on. ‘She must have drawn her own conclusions.’
    ‘She
said I should make peace with them, for yer sake.’
    Of
course Aura would bring it up with Martin, try to solve one of my problems.
‘What did you tell her?’
    ‘I
improvised. Called them bawbags . She likes that word,
by the way. Then I changed the subject.’ He sticks his hands in his front
pockets. There’s a rustle of paper in one. He draws his hands out again and
looks away.
    ‘So
she doesn’t know I hit Niall?’
    ‘Not
unless you tell her.’
    ‘I
will. Someday.’
    ‘Aye,
right. You tell her nothing, do you?’
    ‘I
don’t want to worry her. She’s got enough problems of her own.’
    Martin
snorts. ‘So courteous of ye.’ He turns on his heel and walks out of the
kitchen, leaving me alone again.
    He
thinks my silence is about my pride. But it’s life or death. One small
confession to Aura, like my punching Niall, or my extreme insomnia, could lead
to more questions, which could lead to bigger secrets.
    Including
the one that could destroy her.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
Seven
     
     
    Date:
9 October
    Weight:
66 kg
    Hours
sleep in last week: 14
    Nightmares
in last week: 9
    Flashbacks
in last week: 3
    Panic
attacks in last week: 2
    Days
since 3A: 45
    Days
until Aura: 72
     
    It feels
good to shave. Orderly, regular, normal. Sometimes, like tonight, I use twice
the amount of lather I need, just because I can. Often it’s these small
freedoms that please me most.
    I
slide the straight razor – the sort my dad prefers, so I’ve come to use
it too, and it’s true it gives a closer shave, once one gets used to it –
over the curve of my chin, where I find it trickiest. There. Perfection.
    It’s
always a challenge to fill these late hours, after Mum and Dad are away to bed
and Martin’s still at work. The house becomes too quiet, and my thoughts too
loud. It’s hard to believe that before my captivity, I used to relish my time
alone.
    The
water in the sink has turned green from the shaving-gel suds. I rinse the blade
again