Page 2 of The Cleaner

"Cut the shit, Dad," I snap, speaking over him. "I'm tired of the lies. I'm tired of listening to you tell me that it's for the best and you only want what's good for me. Well here's the thing, what’s good for me is not you and that tramp you call a girlfriend. The two of you have destroyed my life, turned my world upside down, and to make things worse, you want to pull me away from the only stability I have left!" I'm breathing hard, my eyes filling with tears. I'm so damn angry, so hurt by him. I don't know where my dad went but this callous man isn't him.

"Lisa, sweetheart, you're thirteen; you need a family, people who will be able to take care of you. Your mam isn't able to do that."

God, he makes me sick. "I had a family, Dad. I had my family and you ruined it. I hate you. God, I hate you so much."

"Baby, you don't mean that," he says, sounding defeated.

"I do. God, I do, with everything that I am. I hate you for what you've done to Ma and me. Don't you see? You've ruined every foundation we had. The trust I had in you is gone. You go to court, Dad, and I swear I'll run away. I'd rather be on the streets than be around you and that whore."

"Lisa," he says low. It sounds as though he's on the verge of tears. "I want what's best for you."

"What's best for me is being with Ma. What's best for me is not being around you and the woman who broke up my family. Why can't you see that?"

"I'm so sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you."

My laughter is bitter. "You cheated on Ma, Dad. What on earth did you think was going to happen? That I'd be okay with being around you and the woman who shattered my world?"

"It's been three months, Lisa."

"I don't care if it's three years; I don't want that bitch in my life."

"Lisa Reanne Turner, you are thirteen years old. You do not speak like that, especially about your elders."

I can't control the laughter that bubbles from me. "Elders? Dad, she's only six years older than me. She's young enough to be my sister. But you know that, don't you? You make me sick. I won't be coming to your house tonight. In fact, I don't ever want to see you again." I end the call, tears spilling from my eyes and my chest heaving. I throw my phone onto the bed, ignoring the incoming call from my father. I can't—won't—speak to him right now. I need to calm down. I don't want Ma to know how upset I am or how I spoke to Dad. She'll be pissed and that's not what I want.

"What time isyour dad getting here?" Ma asks me a few hours later. We've had dinner and we're watching TV. She's been happy and I love that. I would do anything to help keep her like this. I love when she smiles. I want to bottle them up and keep them forever. I know that the good days are hard, and they come around so very little, I want to cherish them when they do.

"He'll be here in about twenty minutes. Everything okay?"

She nods. "I'm going to run myself a bath. Shout when you're going, but I'll say goodbye now." She gets to her feet and presses a kiss to my head. "I love you, my darling girl. I'm so very proud of the person you are. So beautiful, so kind, and so damn smart. You make my entire world. I want you to know that. Without you, I'd be in perpetual darkness. You are my light in the darkestof hours." She gives me a soft smile and runs her hand along my jaw. "Have a good time with your dad, baby."

"I'll see you when I come home," I tell her, my heart bursting at her words. "I love you, Ma, always."

She closes her eyes, her hand pressing against her chest. "Always, my baby. Down to my bones."

As she makes her way up the stairs, I can't help but have hope in my heart that maybe, just maybe, she's on the mend and the new medication is helping her find a way out of the fog she's been in.

I hear her moving around upstairs and leave it ten minutes before I shout, "Ma, I'm going now." I'll hide in my room for the evening. I'll let her have some alone time, but I'll not be going to Dad's.

"Have fun, baby," she yells down to me. "Love you."

"Love you too." I walk to the door and quickly open and close it, giving Ma the impression that I've gone. I quietly make my way up the stairs and step into my room, careful not to make a sound. I don't want to disturb Ma. I climb onto my bed and reach for my book. I'll read. That way, I'm not disturbing her or making any sounds.

I'm so engrossed in my book that I don't notice that it's been over an hour since I settled on my bed and started to read. I frown, sitting up and listening out for noise. I haven't heard Ma make a single noise since I climbed the stairs. I thought for sure I'd hear the bath running, but even that hasn't happened. My gut twists, and I have a sickening feeling. Placing my book down on the nightstand, I rise to my feet.

Walking out of my room, I notice just how eerily quiet everything is. There's not a single sound. Has Ma fallen back to sleep? My heart beats faster as I make my way towards my ma's room, calling out her name with a growing panic in my voice. "Ma? Are you okay?" But my words are met with silence.Pushing open her bedroom door, my heart shatters and my stomach drops as I see her lying motionless on the bed. Her eyes are wide open and unfocused, staring blankly at me. My stomach drops as I spot the bloodied knife on the floor beside her. With trembling hands, I rush to her side. Then I notice it—the deep gash on her wrist that has left a trail of crimson across the pristine white sheets. Tears spring to my eyes as I realise what has happened. She's killed herself.

"Ma," I cry, dropping to my knees beside the bed, clutching at her arm. She's still warm. God, she's still warm. I stagger to my feet and run to my bedroom before grabbing my phone and calling for an ambulance. "Ma," I cry as I race to her room. "I'm going to get you help," I promise her. "We'll get you help. It'll be okay."

The woman on the line is sweet and comforting as she takes all the details that I can give her. "Lisa, the ambulance is minutes out. Hang on; they'll be with you soon. You've done amazingly. Is the door unlocked for them?"

I grasp Ma's cold, lifeless hand in a desperate attempt to bring her back. "It's unlocked," I cry out, my voice shaking with fear and panic.

"That's good. They'll be there any minute," the woman on the phone reassures me, but all I can hear are the distant sirens growing louder and closer. My stomach churns with knots as I realise how serious this is.

"She's not waking up," I whisper, my heart racing. "She's warm but she's not waking up."

"They've arrived," she tells me. "Your mam is in good hands, Lisa. The paramedics are going to do everything they can to save her. Is there someone you need to call?"

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