Chapter 4

Madeleine

“Betsy!” I scream as I run from the apartment, my voice echoing down the hallway.

The sunlight outside is blinding, but I barely notice. My heart pounds like a drum, and my breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts as I dash out into the shared courtyard, frantically scanning the dilapidated lawn and rusty play area.

She’s not here!

My mind spins. How could I let this happen? I should have been home two hours ago, in time to get Betsy up and ready for school.

Where did she go? What if someone took her?

“Betsy!” I call again, my voice cracking.

A flicker of movement catches my eye. I spin around and relief floods through me. Clarissa, my neighbour, is walking toward me, holding Betsy’s hand.

Betsy skips along at her side, her tiny yellow backpack bouncing with each step. My daughter did what she does every day. She got up, she dressed herself for school, and then she waited for me.

Her eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, her little face swollen, and I can see faint bruises on her hands. Clarissa is furious.

“You’ve got some nerve,” the older woman says as she approaches, her sharp eyes glaring at me through her thick glasses.

I rush forward and drop to my knees in front of Betsy, pulling her into my arms. She lets out a small squeak of surprise but doesn’t protest.

“Mommy, where were you?” she pouts, her little hands patting my back.

“Why did you run away?” I lightly scold her. “You know to wait for me. Are you still angry?”

“I’m not angry, Mommy. I will never run away.”

She already forgot our fight from last night. Ever since the accident, Betsy has a hard time holding on to memories.

“She didn’t try to run away,” Clarissa snaps. “I went to get her after I heard her crying through the walls.”

I look up at my neighbour guilt twisting in my stomach.

“When you didn’t come back,” she continues, her voice cold. “Betsy screamed and banged on the walls for over an hour. What was I supposed to do? Leave her there?”

“Thank you for taking care of her,” I manage to say through my tears, my voice shaking. “I didn’t mean-”

“You never mean it,” Clarissa interrupts, her arms crossed over her chest. “But it keeps happening, Madeleine. She’s a child, not some stray you can forget about whenever you feel like it. If it happens again, I’ll phone the police on you.”

Clarissa’s glare burns - all they ever see is a whore, never the fighter.

“It won’t happen again,” I say quickly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“It better not,” Clarissa admonishes me.

Tears sting my eyes as she turns around walks away.

I look down at Betsy, her wide blue eyes staring back at me with curiosity, not a trace of anger or fear. She’s already forgiven me. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s get you to school. You’re already late.”

I’ve made up my mind. As soon as Betsy is at school, I’m going back to the casino. I’ll get my last paycheck, and then we’re going. We’ll leave the mafia world, Rafael, and his cruel games behind. 

It's for the best.

**

The casino is quiet. There isn’t much going on during the day. A few players here and there, but only Desiree is working today.

I’m scared. Terrified, but I won’t let my own fear stop me. All I have to do is think about Betsy. It’s enough to give me the courage to forge ahead.

My hands are clammy, my stomach roils, and my heart beats so fast that I can barely breathe, but my steps are steady. This is it. One last hurdle and I’ll finally be free.

I knock on Bruce’s door.

“Come in,” he calls out, his voice lazy.

I push the door open to find him sprawled in his chair, already holding a drink in his hand. It’s only eleven.

“Ah, Madeleine,” he says, exhaling a cloud of grey smoke. “Come to ask for extra shifts?”

“N- no,” I say, my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest. “I would like to collect my last paycheck and… I want to resign.”

Bruce smirks. “Yeaaah. About that.”

Something in his tone makes my stomach twist.

“What about it?” I ask, taking a cautious step forward. “It’s the last day of the month. I- I’ll work tonight’s shift if that’s what you want.”

I can suffer through one more shift.

Bruce shakes his head and leans back in his chair, the springs creaking under his weight. “I’ve decided to hold onto your paycheck for now.”

My heart sinks. “Why?” I ask, my voice rising in panic. “I never missed a shift. I do my work. What did I do wrong? Is- is this about last night?”

“No,” he replies coolly. “Nothing like that.

“Then why?” I demand, clenching my fists at my sides.

He sips his drink and looks at me through bleary eyes. “Because of this.” He picks up the framed photograph on his desk, showing me his family. His wife and two children. “What am I supposed to say to them, hm? That some whore decided to trap me with a bastard?”

I blink, caught off guard. “What- What does that have to do with me? Speak to Lola.”

“She won’t get rid of it, and she's been avoiding me,” Bruce says bluntly, the disgust in his voice making my skin crawl. “I need you to find her and talk some sense into her. You're friends with her, aren't you? Once she got rid of that thing, you can get your money.”

“Thing?” I ask as anger starts to rise up in my chest. “You mean your baby?”

“It’s a thing. It should never even exist.”

“B- but, th- that’s your child!” I exclaim.

“No it’s not,” Bruce says and gets up from his desk, lazily strolling around the desk. “I have two children by a decent woman. That bastard growing in Lola is nothing of mine.”

My head reels. This is so unfair. What am I supposed to do? Hold Lola down? Hit her over the head and drag her to the abortion clinic? “I- no, I can’t do that.”

Bruce shrugs, his smirk widening. “Then you won’t get your money.”

I need that money - it’s our ticket out

Rage boils in my chest, white-hot and uncontrollable. The words trembling on my lips. “I would never talk a woman into doing something like that. Never. Clean up your own mess.”

His smirk vanishes, his expression darkening. “Careful, Madeleine. I am still your boss.”

“No, you’re not. Give me my check,” I say through gritted teeth, my hands shaking.

“Not until you do what I asked,” he snaps.

“You are a disgusting pig.”

For a moment, Bruce looks stunned, his cheeks reddening. Then his face twists with fury.

“You bitch,” he snarls, lunging at me.

I stumble back, panic surging as his hand clamps around my wrist. His grip is like iron, and his face is so close I can smell the sour whiskey on his breath.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” he growls, his voice low and menacing.

He slaps me so hard that my head snaps back and I see stars. 

His free hand curls around my throat. He spins me around and shoves me across his desk, pinning me down as he squeezes my throat even tighter. “You will do as I tell you, you fucking slut.”

The world goes a little fuzzy, and black spots swim in front of my eyes. I grope across the desk, desperately searching for something I can use to defend myself. My fingers close around something smooth and heavy.

Without thinking, I swing it as hard as I can.

With a satisfying crack, the solid glass paperweight connects with his head. Bruce grunts and collapses, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

I freeze, my chest heaving as I stare at his motionless body. Blood trickles from the gash on his temple, soaking into the ratty carpet.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh Jesus help me. I think I killed him.

The room spins, but I force myself to move. My hand shakes as I grab the envelope with my name on it from his desk and shove it into my purse.

I don’t stop to check if he’s breathing.

I have no other choice but to run now. No one will phone the police and if I’m quick, I can get away before anyone even finds out what happened.

I stop in the locker room to grab my few belongings, hoping to erase every trace that I was ever here. “Maddie?” Lola calls out. “Why are you-”

“I’m leaving,” I say as I push past her. “Remember that favour you owe me?”

“Yes?” she answers hesitantly.

“If anyone asks… tell them Bruce gave me my last paycheck and I resigned. He was okay when I left.”

“But-”

“Take care of yourself Lola… and your baby.”

I run from the casino, stumbling out into the bright day. I have a lot to do, and no time to waste.