Page 118 of Brandt's Rule

“She’s my daughter, get away from her,” the woman screamed. “She disrespects me, she’s going to get her ass whipped! Get over here, right now!” the woman shrieked, trying to reach around Analise to get to the child.

“You’re not my mom!” the little girl cried.

“Get away from this child! I’m warning you, just this once. You’ll have to go through me first,” Analise said, her voice a little louder, but still giving every indication that she was still in complete control and not the least little bit worried.

“She’s my kid, not yours!” the woman shouted.

“Leave. Now. Or I’m not responsible for what happens if you don’t,” Analise threatened, her voice calm, but clearly laced with threat.

The woman, obviously strung out on something, her eyes wild, her body filthy, finally focused on Analise, her eyes squinting. She stepped closer to Analise, then started laughed hysterically. She looked Analise up and down with disgust, then spat at her. “Oh, you think you’re something special don’t you. You always did. That’s alright, you weren’t shit then, and you’re not shit now.”

Analise had simply sidestepped when the woman tried to spit on her, and now took a moment to really look at her. “Marie-Claire?” In fact, she was so caught up in trying to figure out if the drug addled woman in front of her was actually Marie-Claire, she didn’t notice the door had opened again.

“Oh, you know exactly who I am. I bet you think of me every single day of your life. Which just confirms that you’re a stupid bitch, always were. Couldn’t keep me from your man, I made him mine. Got what you thought you had. And I’m taking that little bitch, too.” She tried to lunge around Analise and grab at the little girl again.

Analise reacted so fast it all happened in seconds. She threw her hot coffee in the woman’s face as she snarled and reared back with one arm, simply cold-cocking her. She hit her so hard she dropped to the floor completely unconscious with blood spurting from her nose as her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Daddy!” the little girl cried, darting out from behind Analise and running to the man who’d stepped inside just in time to watch Analise knock Marie-Claire out.

He scooped his daughter up and hugged her as she sobbed, soothing her as only he could. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I left you sleeping in the truck, why are you in here?”

“I woke up and that lady kept yelling at me through the window and I didn’t know where you were, so I ran in here.”

“It’s okay. I should have woke you up to run in the store with me. I have you, now. It’s alright. Daddy’s got you.” He kissed her head and her face, drying her tears as he rubbed her back.

“That lady saved me,” the little girl said between sobs.

“I know. I saw that,” he said. He finally worked up the nerve to look Analise in the eye.

When he did, time seemed to both stand still, and rush all the way back to high school for both of them.

“Hello, Analise.”

Analise stood cradling her fist in her other hand, her eyes glued to the man the little girl had called daddy. Her heart pounded as she realized she couldn’t outrun her past anymore. A quick trip home to visit her family for Christmas had pretty much shattered the denial she lived with every day of her life. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back, raised her chin and regarded him as the strong, polished professional she’d become. Cold. Calm. Cool. Collected. No trace of emotion at all.

“Hello, Havoc.”

~~~

The End, for now.

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