Their murmurs had woken her.
“Reitz, not now,†her mam whispered.
“C’mon. . .†he said, and Zhavi’s eyelids flickered.
“Not while she’s here.â€
“Just be quiet. It’ll be fine.â€
“Reitz!â€
Zhi uncurled from where she’d slumped to the floor, her stomach cramping in hunger. She looked up, over to the bed, and saw their shapes under their blankets. She hated them both. She wouldn’t never forgive either of them, unless. . .unless her mam got rid of him. Yes, if her mam kicked him off and shooed him to the door, then everything could . . .
Her mam was giggling.
Zhi watched, a stony witness, as feminine protests and masculine reassurances drifted over from the moving blankets. She watched until she knew her mam was not going to get rid of the man, until she knew that her mam had betrayed her, and then she rolled over so she faced the wall. She flattened her ears and put her hands to them, but nothing was going to block out the noises. There would be no going back to sleep. Instead, she contemplated ways to make her mam sorry. Running away was at the top of the list. Mam wouldn't be giggling then, not when Zhi never came home. Zhi pictured in her mind the face her mam would make when she went out looking for her, when morning came and there was no Zhavi to boss around.
Or would she be glad? With him around, would her mam have no more need for her? Would she laugh with him, and celebrate Zhi’s absence?
Zhi was still. Maybe there was still time. Maybe he had just paid really, really well, and after this they could escape. Maybe her mam just needed Zhavi to be very, very good, and if everything went well they would never have to scrounge for money again. Zhi could be quiet. Zhi could be still. Zhi could be patient.
She waited.
Eventually, the sound of their voices changed. The movement changed. Zhi loosened her fingers from over her ears, stretching them to ease the cramping. It had felt like an eternity. But now things would be better.
She waited a little longer, just to be sure, then she started moving. She propped herself up. She looked towards the center of the room, and saw him bending over their basin and yesterday’s leftover water. Water that Zhi had hauled. Protest was on the edge of her tongue as she pushed herself to her feet, but then —
“Zhio.†Her mam’s voice. Love, acceptance, happiness. A balm.
“What’s he doin’ here?†She couldn’t accept it. She was angry. Her mam had to choose, and it had to be now.
Her mam was tall for a miqo’te woman. Tall, but with the same willowy build as any other. She was well-proportioned. Beautiful. Even standing there with her nightdress all wrinkled and askew, Zhi thought her mam was the most beautiful woman in the world. Zhi didn’t much look like her. She looked like her da, her mam had said, but never anything more than that. No matter how many times Zhi had asked.
He didn’t look remotely good enough for her mam. No man did. No woman, either. All her mam needed was Zhi, and all Zhi needed was her mam.
“Zhavi.†There was reproach in Mam’s voice. “That ain’t no way t’talk. Reitz,†and why had her voice gone all mushy and soft? “Would you be willing t’fetch us a morning meal?â€
“O’ course I would.†He swooped in on her mam, and kissed her.
He kissed her.
Zhi glared at him. When he noticed, he winked at her before leaving. Winked. At her. She transferred the glare to her mam. “Why ain’t ye kicked him out? He don’t belong here. He slept in me spot!â€
“’Scuse me? An’ who are you t’say who do and don’t belong here, young missy? You listen here —â€
“No!â€
Her mam’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be a brat, missy. This is real good fer us. Now, you ain’t got no understanding of adult matters, but this is how — don’t you dare roll your eyes at me. Hey. Look at me.â€
Zhi folded her arms and scowled at the floor. In three steps — heard rather than seen — her mam had crossed the room to her and had gripped her chin in an iron vice. She pulled Zhi’s face up, and crouched before her. “You look at me.â€
“Ye smell nasty. Like him.â€
Zhi cringed away from the slap, but she didn't lift a hand to rub at her stinging cheek. She kept her arms tightly folded, even when her mam gave her a good shake. “I’m his woman now. Out o’ all the women he could’ve picked, he picked me. This’s a real good thing. Do you understand me, missy? This is good, an’ you ain’t gonna feck it by being a snotty little brat. Understand me?â€
“I don’t want him here. I don’t like him.â€
“I ain’t asking you t’like him. But you will treat him with respect.â€
“An’ who’s he then, t’be so special?â€
“He’s me cock bawd. He has money, an’ he’s real powerful. An’ if he likes me enough, we’ll be able t’get out o’ here.â€
“I don’t wanna move.â€
Her mam gave her another shake. “You’ll get used t’it soon enough. Don’t be a stupid brat. I’ll give you a walloping like you ain’t never had before if you so much as make him frown, gods help me.â€
Zhi’s response was as angry a glare as she could muster. “I hate ye.â€
For a moment, Zhi thought her mam was about to hit her again. Her mouth had tightened, ears back and eyes narrowed: even in anger, her mam was beautiful. Zhi thought so, and the thought hurt because her mam wasn’t her own anymore. Now she belonged to someone else, and she didn’t give two shits about Zhi. Yeah, that was real clear. It made Zhi furious. The anger that had been in her last night, the stuff that she didn’t know what to do with, rose up in her stomach until it clogged her throat and made her dizzy. She wanted to scream, but all she could do was stuff her fists under her armpits and glare, her eyes too narrowed and watery to really see much. But she knew her mam was still beautiful. She still hated her. Maybe her mam had felt the same way, about her, all this time. Maybe this was just a convenient way to get rid of Zhi.
Maybe.
“You listen to me,†Mam said, and her tone had gone all soft and hard. “I don’t care what you think, and I don’t care what you feel. You’ll do as I tell you, and you’ll behave proper. This is good fer us. Look at me. I know you don’t like it. Tough shit. Life ain’t about pleasing you all the time. This is what’s best. You’ll pick a new place t’sleep — this corner, if you want — and you’ll be nice t’Reitz. You’ll keep quiet and out o’ his way. Understand me?â€
Zhi mumbled something under her breath. Her mam’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you say?â€
Zhi glared, and stuck out her tongue.
“What. Did. You. Say?â€
“Yer a stupid whore!†Zhi broke free and ran for the door, her mam hollering after her.
She didn’t eat with them, that day. Or the next several days. She hardly came home at all, only stopping by to sleep, to see if he’d left, to occasionally swipe the food her mam left out for her. She didn’t speak to them. The few times she ran into Reitz, he’d smile at her. It seemed to Zhi that his smile was one of triumph, of cruelty, and some slick oiliness that she had no real words for. It made her cringe away from him. Even wanting to defy her mam, she didn’t speak out against him or try to annoy him. There was something in her that broke every time he stared at her, or gestured her away to the corner. It turned her craven, made her slink about like she weren’t nothing.
But her mam was true to her words. In a few weeks, they left the crummy little room they’d lived in ever since Zhi could remember. Though no one said as much, it was Reitz’s personal home that they moved into. She knew because she could smell him overlaying everything, over the smell of other men and women, sex and drugs. Even so, even despite how much she hated him, it was like a palace to her. Four rooms. One was just for eating, one was for his work, one was his room, and one was for her and her mam. Though her mam didn’t sleep with her.
Everything was screwed up. The night no longer belonged to her. Proper people, Reitz had told her the first day they stayed in his home, sleep during the night and are awake during the day. It didn’t matter how Zhi tried to tell him that the sun hurt her eyes and scalded her skin, that she was sleepy when it was daylight out, and that she was not tired at all during the night. He told her that if they were living with him, she’d have to follow the rules and keep out of his way, out of his sight. He wasn’t going to have her laying about during the day when he had business to do. Business, like he didn’t trade in whores. Whatever.
She earned bruises when she tried to defy him. Her mam always took his side. She was alone.
The old house, with its leaks and its cold, its sole room and its bugs — the hunger that sometimes clawed at her belly for days when her mam didn’t make enough — she missed it. She missed it like she hadn’t missed anything before in her life, like she was sure she would never miss again. Because at least then she’d her mam. At least then her mam had been hers, and in the morning she would crawl into their sleeping mats with her, and her mam would hug her and stroke her hair. When they woke in the afternoon her mam would brush it, and tell Zhi dirty stories about the men and women she met plying her trade. Maybe they were hungry, maybe Zhi had to haul water every day, and maybe their baths were always cold, but . . . he hadn’t been around. They hadn’t needed anyone but each other.
Zhi didn’t count gil any more. She never saw any, not unless she stole it.
Defeat settled in on her.
A moon had passed the day she came back to the place she lived and smelled alcohol. That wasn’t so new, because Reitz liked to drink, same as most folk what lived in lowtown. What was new was the smell of blood.
For a moment, Zhi stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle and the other on the doorframe. Her mouth was hanging open. Air was gulped in long, shrill breaths, through her nose and mouth. She was scenting. She could smell Reitz’s blood. Worse than that, she could smell —
“Mam!†All of her anger was forgotten. The door was left banging against the wall in her wake as she darted through the house, following the smell to his office. It didn’t take her long. For all it had four rooms, the house was not large. Even so, the door was shut, and locked. Zhi threw herself against it, nails scratching at the wood. She was screeching the same word over, and over, and over. Someone was snarling at her to shut up, but when she didn’t there were steps. Three steps. Then there was a noise on the other side.
The door flew open. Zhi was thrown back a few steps. She almost fell. She could see inside. Glass, blood, overturned chair, loose papers, and a table met her stare. Legs stuck out from behind the table. Still. They were very still. The feet were bare, and the toenails had been lacquered. But she couldn’t see any more, not with the legs standing in the doorway. She looked up, and up, and saw Reitz’s face, smelled him. His eyes were blank, empty. His mouth was a dark smear. Angry. He was angry. There was a bottle clutched in his hand, but the bottom was gone; it had been broken off.
Alcohol and blood.
Shrieking, she dove forward between his legs. She stepped on glass. She didn’t even feel it. She slipped on blood. She didn’t even notice. All that mattered were those two legs, the stillness, and the blood that filled up her nose and told her that her mam was hurt. She could hear him bellowing behind her, could all but feel him behind her — but she had reached the body.
The body.
She touched it. There was so much blood. She was screaming.
“Zhio?â€
He had her. He had grabbed the back of her neck. Past him, past the body, past the glass and debris, there was someone in the doorway. Someone with a bandaged hand. Someone who looked like her mam.
A miqo’te woman was on the ground. She was dead. Not her mam. Not her mam.
She crashed against the wall, his hand letting her go so she bounced and fell. A new voice had joined in the screaming. The only one that mattered. It didn’t mean anything that Zhi’s vision was going blurry, that she was dazed and that her face had fallen into the glass and blood. Mam was alive. Mam was okay.
The boot that hit her in the shoulder did matter. But it mattered in a different way, a more primal way, one that got her hands under her and her legs kicking so she was propelled away from the second kick, the one that caught her in the hip and sent her sprawling again. She was looking back, watching for the next blow, and she saw her mam reaching for Reitz, saw the way her eyes had gone wide, the way her mouth stretched as she yelled, pleaded, begged. But he was drunk. Angry drunk.
A woman was dead.
When he looked at Zhi, it was like everything inside of her turned into water. She quivered under that stare. Even when he’d thrown off her mam, even when he came towards her, there was nothing in her but fear. All of her hate, all of her fury, all of her idle daydreams to hurt him the way he did her mam, the way he left bruises and harsh words behind him — it all vanished. All that was left was the cringing, craven fear that pushed her to run away from him, to keep running forever.
He was on her.
Her eyes closed.
Everything was confusion. Everything was pain. Everything was fear.
Her eyes opened.
The doorway loomed in front of her. She reached for it.
Her eyes closed.
Now her mam would see that he wasn’t any good. After this, if they survived, they would leave. Things would change. They would go back to how they used to be.
Opened.
Her mam was pulling at him, teeth bared and voice shrill. She saw his fist. It had a ring on it, on his middle finger.
Closed.
Her nose was on fire.
Opened.
He had her mam by the hair.
Closed.
It was the last thing she saw.
Nothing changed.
“Reitz, not now,†her mam whispered.
“C’mon. . .†he said, and Zhavi’s eyelids flickered.
“Not while she’s here.â€
“Just be quiet. It’ll be fine.â€
“Reitz!â€
Zhi uncurled from where she’d slumped to the floor, her stomach cramping in hunger. She looked up, over to the bed, and saw their shapes under their blankets. She hated them both. She wouldn’t never forgive either of them, unless. . .unless her mam got rid of him. Yes, if her mam kicked him off and shooed him to the door, then everything could . . .
Her mam was giggling.
Zhi watched, a stony witness, as feminine protests and masculine reassurances drifted over from the moving blankets. She watched until she knew her mam was not going to get rid of the man, until she knew that her mam had betrayed her, and then she rolled over so she faced the wall. She flattened her ears and put her hands to them, but nothing was going to block out the noises. There would be no going back to sleep. Instead, she contemplated ways to make her mam sorry. Running away was at the top of the list. Mam wouldn't be giggling then, not when Zhi never came home. Zhi pictured in her mind the face her mam would make when she went out looking for her, when morning came and there was no Zhavi to boss around.
Or would she be glad? With him around, would her mam have no more need for her? Would she laugh with him, and celebrate Zhi’s absence?
Zhi was still. Maybe there was still time. Maybe he had just paid really, really well, and after this they could escape. Maybe her mam just needed Zhavi to be very, very good, and if everything went well they would never have to scrounge for money again. Zhi could be quiet. Zhi could be still. Zhi could be patient.
She waited.
Eventually, the sound of their voices changed. The movement changed. Zhi loosened her fingers from over her ears, stretching them to ease the cramping. It had felt like an eternity. But now things would be better.
She waited a little longer, just to be sure, then she started moving. She propped herself up. She looked towards the center of the room, and saw him bending over their basin and yesterday’s leftover water. Water that Zhi had hauled. Protest was on the edge of her tongue as she pushed herself to her feet, but then —
“Zhio.†Her mam’s voice. Love, acceptance, happiness. A balm.
“What’s he doin’ here?†She couldn’t accept it. She was angry. Her mam had to choose, and it had to be now.
Her mam was tall for a miqo’te woman. Tall, but with the same willowy build as any other. She was well-proportioned. Beautiful. Even standing there with her nightdress all wrinkled and askew, Zhi thought her mam was the most beautiful woman in the world. Zhi didn’t much look like her. She looked like her da, her mam had said, but never anything more than that. No matter how many times Zhi had asked.
He didn’t look remotely good enough for her mam. No man did. No woman, either. All her mam needed was Zhi, and all Zhi needed was her mam.
“Zhavi.†There was reproach in Mam’s voice. “That ain’t no way t’talk. Reitz,†and why had her voice gone all mushy and soft? “Would you be willing t’fetch us a morning meal?â€
“O’ course I would.†He swooped in on her mam, and kissed her.
He kissed her.
Zhi glared at him. When he noticed, he winked at her before leaving. Winked. At her. She transferred the glare to her mam. “Why ain’t ye kicked him out? He don’t belong here. He slept in me spot!â€
“’Scuse me? An’ who are you t’say who do and don’t belong here, young missy? You listen here —â€
“No!â€
Her mam’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be a brat, missy. This is real good fer us. Now, you ain’t got no understanding of adult matters, but this is how — don’t you dare roll your eyes at me. Hey. Look at me.â€
Zhi folded her arms and scowled at the floor. In three steps — heard rather than seen — her mam had crossed the room to her and had gripped her chin in an iron vice. She pulled Zhi’s face up, and crouched before her. “You look at me.â€
“Ye smell nasty. Like him.â€
Zhi cringed away from the slap, but she didn't lift a hand to rub at her stinging cheek. She kept her arms tightly folded, even when her mam gave her a good shake. “I’m his woman now. Out o’ all the women he could’ve picked, he picked me. This’s a real good thing. Do you understand me, missy? This is good, an’ you ain’t gonna feck it by being a snotty little brat. Understand me?â€
“I don’t want him here. I don’t like him.â€
“I ain’t asking you t’like him. But you will treat him with respect.â€
“An’ who’s he then, t’be so special?â€
“He’s me cock bawd. He has money, an’ he’s real powerful. An’ if he likes me enough, we’ll be able t’get out o’ here.â€
“I don’t wanna move.â€
Her mam gave her another shake. “You’ll get used t’it soon enough. Don’t be a stupid brat. I’ll give you a walloping like you ain’t never had before if you so much as make him frown, gods help me.â€
Zhi’s response was as angry a glare as she could muster. “I hate ye.â€
For a moment, Zhi thought her mam was about to hit her again. Her mouth had tightened, ears back and eyes narrowed: even in anger, her mam was beautiful. Zhi thought so, and the thought hurt because her mam wasn’t her own anymore. Now she belonged to someone else, and she didn’t give two shits about Zhi. Yeah, that was real clear. It made Zhi furious. The anger that had been in her last night, the stuff that she didn’t know what to do with, rose up in her stomach until it clogged her throat and made her dizzy. She wanted to scream, but all she could do was stuff her fists under her armpits and glare, her eyes too narrowed and watery to really see much. But she knew her mam was still beautiful. She still hated her. Maybe her mam had felt the same way, about her, all this time. Maybe this was just a convenient way to get rid of Zhi.
Maybe.
“You listen to me,†Mam said, and her tone had gone all soft and hard. “I don’t care what you think, and I don’t care what you feel. You’ll do as I tell you, and you’ll behave proper. This is good fer us. Look at me. I know you don’t like it. Tough shit. Life ain’t about pleasing you all the time. This is what’s best. You’ll pick a new place t’sleep — this corner, if you want — and you’ll be nice t’Reitz. You’ll keep quiet and out o’ his way. Understand me?â€
Zhi mumbled something under her breath. Her mam’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you say?â€
Zhi glared, and stuck out her tongue.
“What. Did. You. Say?â€
“Yer a stupid whore!†Zhi broke free and ran for the door, her mam hollering after her.
She didn’t eat with them, that day. Or the next several days. She hardly came home at all, only stopping by to sleep, to see if he’d left, to occasionally swipe the food her mam left out for her. She didn’t speak to them. The few times she ran into Reitz, he’d smile at her. It seemed to Zhi that his smile was one of triumph, of cruelty, and some slick oiliness that she had no real words for. It made her cringe away from him. Even wanting to defy her mam, she didn’t speak out against him or try to annoy him. There was something in her that broke every time he stared at her, or gestured her away to the corner. It turned her craven, made her slink about like she weren’t nothing.
But her mam was true to her words. In a few weeks, they left the crummy little room they’d lived in ever since Zhi could remember. Though no one said as much, it was Reitz’s personal home that they moved into. She knew because she could smell him overlaying everything, over the smell of other men and women, sex and drugs. Even so, even despite how much she hated him, it was like a palace to her. Four rooms. One was just for eating, one was for his work, one was his room, and one was for her and her mam. Though her mam didn’t sleep with her.
Everything was screwed up. The night no longer belonged to her. Proper people, Reitz had told her the first day they stayed in his home, sleep during the night and are awake during the day. It didn’t matter how Zhi tried to tell him that the sun hurt her eyes and scalded her skin, that she was sleepy when it was daylight out, and that she was not tired at all during the night. He told her that if they were living with him, she’d have to follow the rules and keep out of his way, out of his sight. He wasn’t going to have her laying about during the day when he had business to do. Business, like he didn’t trade in whores. Whatever.
She earned bruises when she tried to defy him. Her mam always took his side. She was alone.
The old house, with its leaks and its cold, its sole room and its bugs — the hunger that sometimes clawed at her belly for days when her mam didn’t make enough — she missed it. She missed it like she hadn’t missed anything before in her life, like she was sure she would never miss again. Because at least then she’d her mam. At least then her mam had been hers, and in the morning she would crawl into their sleeping mats with her, and her mam would hug her and stroke her hair. When they woke in the afternoon her mam would brush it, and tell Zhi dirty stories about the men and women she met plying her trade. Maybe they were hungry, maybe Zhi had to haul water every day, and maybe their baths were always cold, but . . . he hadn’t been around. They hadn’t needed anyone but each other.
Zhi didn’t count gil any more. She never saw any, not unless she stole it.
Defeat settled in on her.
A moon had passed the day she came back to the place she lived and smelled alcohol. That wasn’t so new, because Reitz liked to drink, same as most folk what lived in lowtown. What was new was the smell of blood.
For a moment, Zhi stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle and the other on the doorframe. Her mouth was hanging open. Air was gulped in long, shrill breaths, through her nose and mouth. She was scenting. She could smell Reitz’s blood. Worse than that, she could smell —
“Mam!†All of her anger was forgotten. The door was left banging against the wall in her wake as she darted through the house, following the smell to his office. It didn’t take her long. For all it had four rooms, the house was not large. Even so, the door was shut, and locked. Zhi threw herself against it, nails scratching at the wood. She was screeching the same word over, and over, and over. Someone was snarling at her to shut up, but when she didn’t there were steps. Three steps. Then there was a noise on the other side.
The door flew open. Zhi was thrown back a few steps. She almost fell. She could see inside. Glass, blood, overturned chair, loose papers, and a table met her stare. Legs stuck out from behind the table. Still. They were very still. The feet were bare, and the toenails had been lacquered. But she couldn’t see any more, not with the legs standing in the doorway. She looked up, and up, and saw Reitz’s face, smelled him. His eyes were blank, empty. His mouth was a dark smear. Angry. He was angry. There was a bottle clutched in his hand, but the bottom was gone; it had been broken off.
Alcohol and blood.
Shrieking, she dove forward between his legs. She stepped on glass. She didn’t even feel it. She slipped on blood. She didn’t even notice. All that mattered were those two legs, the stillness, and the blood that filled up her nose and told her that her mam was hurt. She could hear him bellowing behind her, could all but feel him behind her — but she had reached the body.
The body.
She touched it. There was so much blood. She was screaming.
“Zhio?â€
He had her. He had grabbed the back of her neck. Past him, past the body, past the glass and debris, there was someone in the doorway. Someone with a bandaged hand. Someone who looked like her mam.
A miqo’te woman was on the ground. She was dead. Not her mam. Not her mam.
She crashed against the wall, his hand letting her go so she bounced and fell. A new voice had joined in the screaming. The only one that mattered. It didn’t mean anything that Zhi’s vision was going blurry, that she was dazed and that her face had fallen into the glass and blood. Mam was alive. Mam was okay.
The boot that hit her in the shoulder did matter. But it mattered in a different way, a more primal way, one that got her hands under her and her legs kicking so she was propelled away from the second kick, the one that caught her in the hip and sent her sprawling again. She was looking back, watching for the next blow, and she saw her mam reaching for Reitz, saw the way her eyes had gone wide, the way her mouth stretched as she yelled, pleaded, begged. But he was drunk. Angry drunk.
A woman was dead.
When he looked at Zhi, it was like everything inside of her turned into water. She quivered under that stare. Even when he’d thrown off her mam, even when he came towards her, there was nothing in her but fear. All of her hate, all of her fury, all of her idle daydreams to hurt him the way he did her mam, the way he left bruises and harsh words behind him — it all vanished. All that was left was the cringing, craven fear that pushed her to run away from him, to keep running forever.
He was on her.
Her eyes closed.
Everything was confusion. Everything was pain. Everything was fear.
Her eyes opened.
The doorway loomed in front of her. She reached for it.
Her eyes closed.
Now her mam would see that he wasn’t any good. After this, if they survived, they would leave. Things would change. They would go back to how they used to be.
Opened.
Her mam was pulling at him, teeth bared and voice shrill. She saw his fist. It had a ring on it, on his middle finger.
Closed.
Her nose was on fire.
Opened.
He had her mam by the hair.
Closed.
It was the last thing she saw.
Nothing changed.
