Page 59 of Breaker

“Yes, Clyde, I want to be here,” I lie because I don’t. Of course I don’t want to be here, but this in my territory and I need what’s inside this house.

The faint sound of a motor engine revving further down the street sends my heart fluttering with nerves. Every inch of me feels strung out, buzzing with anxiety. I pause in front of the door, my fingernails stinging with that phantom pain, insides trembling. But it’s not fear over why I’m here, it’s the memories that lie beyond this door that’s making my breaths shaky.

With a deep breath, I slip in the key, and I hope Clyde doesn’t notice how my hands shake. If he does, he says nothing. The door creaks open and I freeze, one foot slightly raised over the threshold.

A flood of memories slaps me in the face. My eyes dart to the stairs leading to the second floor where my bedroom and playroom were. Then drift over to the dark hallway leading to my parents massive office, like I can see in the outline of the closet where my mother put me.

There’s still claw marks on the inside of the wood door.

I know because I looked the day I was told she died so I wouldn’t cry over a woman who found me a nuisance.

Clyde shoves past, heading for the light switch and flicks in on. Nothing happens.

“Bulb must be blown,” he says.

Once I turned eighteen, Rune set up an account for me with some of my inheritance. With it, I had the electricity to the estate turned on and every few months someone comes out to clean and check for any needed repairs.

To this day, I don’t know why I keep this place up. I could sell it and make quite a bit of money, but the times I’ve received an offer, I’ve never been able to go through with signing the papers.

I think I like that her ghost is trapped here. Maybe I like that mine is stuck here too.

Stepping in, I shut the door behind me. The air tastes stale. Like dust and dry earth but the faint scent of roses floats in the air like my mother just brushed past.

Clyde tries the large lamps resting on the entry table and yellow light floods the space.

I glance around, trying to suppress the images.

Maybe coming here was a mistake. Even as the thought comes to the surface, I know it’s not true. If I’m going to do this. I need what’s here.

“What now?” Clyde asks. “Why are we here?”

I think I’ve never really thought about Clyde’s devotion because we’ve always had it. I never had to live without it, so I never knew it was something to be so thankful for.

Gripping his shoulders, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, then point to the hall leading to my parents office. The second my foot slips into the dark hall, panic squeezes my lungs in a vise. I pause long enough to blink back the old fear, and march forward, refusing to be controlled by memories. If I wait, if I let myself hesitate for a moment longer, I won’t open that door and I won’t follow through with this plan.

But I have to.

I’m so sick of men thinking they control of my life, my money, and my body. That they can decide my future.

Well, no more.

I know a little something Zane will want me to keep quiet. And if he wants me quiet, he’ll do everything I ask.

Before I can change my mind, I shove the door open and walk into my parents office.

Darkness tries to leach into my mind and the silence of the house attempts to drag me back to hell, to the place where all my memories wait, but I remind myself this is now. Not then. I’m here, with Clyde who will protect me even if it’s from the dark things living in my head and stalk forward so determined I see nothing besides my parents desk. Not the overly decorative furniture, not the long art deco styled couch my mother entertained guests on.

Clyde’s silent presence offers steady reassurance as I take the large picture from the wall behind the desk and set it on the floor.

“Well shit,” he says. “Now I feel like an idiot that I never knew they had a safe hidden there.”

“Sometimes the most obvious things are the hardest to see,” I say as I unlock the safe. It’s my birthday which is so ironic that it makes me want to weep. No one would ever think my mother would use my birthday so of course that’s what she chose.

The thick metal door swings open with a creak. I pull out the files my mother kept under the boxes holding her most valuable jewelry. She was great at organizing and I admire how she color coded everything, making sure to include dates and names.

I find the name I want and slip it from the stack. Pictures slip out and I gather them up before Clyde can see and stuff them in an envelope I find in the desk drawer.

“What are you doing?” Clyde asks as I put the files back and shut the safe.

---