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CHAPTER FIVE
REN
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2000
ONLY A FEW minutes I spent in that house, and I made the first mistake of my short life within thirty seconds of them.
The kitchen was freshly scrubbed from cooking, the dishwasher sloshing quietly in the corner, a gold fish bowl humming with a night light revealing lazy, glittery fish.
A cat sprang onto the granite countertop, its yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.
I waved a hand at it, not daring to speak just in case the heavy silence carried my voice to wherever the people slept in this place.
It ignored my command to leave, never blinking, its whiskers prickling at my invasion.
Giving it the finger, I slunk deeper into its home. The cat followed me, flicking its tail, silent paws hunting my every step.
Goosebumps trailed down my spine as I entered the dining room which spread out into a family room with comfy golden couches, large TV, and a shaggy rug full of toys. The mess on the rug was the only thing out of place with large artwork staring down from neatly painted walls and dust-free figurines judging me as I spun around and headed back toward the kitchen.
I didn’t need to steal anything of value, just things of practicality.
Like food.
Delicious food.
And that was when I saw it.
The booster chair wedged up against the breakfast bar ready for someone of Della’s size to hang out with their much larger family members.
This family had kids.
This family had a baby like Della.
Unlike my backpack baby who sucked my finger for lack of food and slept with a stained ribbon for comfort, their baby had a cat to squeeze and fish to coo at. Unlike Della who slept beneath trees while blanketed in moonlight, their baby had a comfy crib, soft sheets, and all the food it could ever want.
My fists curled to think of his luck and Della’s misfortune. Whoever this baby was I hated him because he had something Della never would.
Consistency…familiarity…home.
My feet froze to the crumb-free floor.
The idea unravelled too fast to stop it.
Leave her here.
I’d been begging for a way to be rid of her ever since I’d found her squishing my cheese. It wasn’t that I hated her because she was the blood of my enemies but because, day by day, she was robbing me of my only chance at making something of myself.
I couldn’t run far. I couldn’t travel fast. All my ideas of finding a new place to call my own had been scrapped because of her endless needs.
She would end up killing us both, and a solution had just landed squarely in my lap.
The cat meowed, weaving around my legs as I strode quickly toward the back door. Shoving the creature away, I ducked on all fours and wriggled my shoulders back through the tight rectangle.
I’d have bruises tomorrow, but I wasn’t counting. I already had more than normal along with scars and bumps and missing fingers.
With my body half in the kitchen and half on the deck outside, I strained to reach the backpack and dragged it unceremoniously toward me.
Della grumbled as it tipped sideways.
“Hush up.” I yanked her closer, so I could unzip the top. Ripping it down too fast, a blonde curl got caught in the zipper’s teeth. Her face scrunched up with indignation, her mouth wide and ready to scream.
My heart jack-knifed as I clamped a hand over her tiny mouth. “Don’t you dare,” I hissed in her ear. “It’s just a little pain. It’s nothing.”
She wriggled beneath my hold, little whimpers and struggles unmatched for my wiry strength from working the land and wrangling unhelpful livestock.
The cat swiped at my ass still lodged in its exit. I tried to kick it and lost my grip on Della’s mouth.
I stiffened, already preparing to run the moment she cried.
Lights would flick on, feet would pummel stairs, and I’d be caught stuck in a cat flap like a failed, stupid thief.
Why didn’t I use the door?
I could’ve unlocked it from the inside.
Hating and cursing my idiocy, I didn’t breathe as the moment stretched so long my teeth ached. My body already vibrated with her scream. But slowly, her lips closed, anger faded from accusing eyes, and her teeny hand rubbed her scalp with her ribbon clutched tight.
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Good girl,” I whispered. “You’re very brave.”
The transformation in her entire body blinded me. A smile spread. Cheeks pinked. Spine straightened. Any sign of sickness and starvation from living in the wild deleted, all because of one morsel of praise.
There was a key in that.
A message that all humans—tiny or ancient—needed nutrition in the form of love as well as everything else.
It made my recent decision even easier because I was not capable of feeding her everything she needed. I’d gotten her this far. My job was done.
“Get out of the backpack.” I pushed the canvas sides to collapse on the deck.
Giving me a sideways look, she bit her lip uncertainly.
“Get. Now.” Pulling her once chubby arm, I knocked her off balance and dragged her out. She didn’t make a sound, not caring her filthy onesie got caught on a deck splinter or that the only place she’d found safety in was now tossed out of reach.
Keeping my fingers locked around her midget wrist, I backed through the cat flap, pulling her with me. “Come on.”
It took a few attempts with the cat trying to squish past me and Della wriggling the wrong way, but somehow, I managed to get her inside without too many grizzles.
I really should’ve just unlocked the door, but we were inside. The cat shot outside. And the house slept on none the wiser.
The minute all limbs were inside the kitchen, I stood and stretched out sore muscles, ignored my growling stomach, then scooped her from the clean floor.
The novelty of not having to knock off leaves from her ass or check her for beetles and ants was nice as I carried her into the lounge and placed her on the rug with all the bright plastic toys.
Instantly, she latched sticky fingers around some sort of ring with rainbow disks slipping and sliding. Once again, she gave me a smile so blinding, so pure, so grateful, I buckled under a different type of hunger.
A hunger for the same thing I couldn’t give her.
A hunger for something that offered safety even if everything around us was dangerous.
“Don’t make a sound.” I pointed at her, backing away to the kitchen. “I mean it.”
She watched me go, blue eyes never leaving mine as I ducked around the breakfast bar and wrenched open the pantry.
She stayed quiet as a chipmunk as I grabbed packets of crisps and chocolate biscuits and brightly wrapped lollies. The foils and wrappers made a horrendous noise in the quiet, making my ears twitch for company and eyes flicker to the dark corridor beyond.
Abandoning them on the counter, I turned to quieter things.
Knowing I was on borrowed time, I yanked open the fridge and fought every instinct to dive straight into the cool crisp shelves full of deliciousness.
Grapes dangled with a cheese platter wrapped in cellophane. A chunky pink leg of ham smelled of smoke and honey. Beer clattered in the door along with apple juice packs and little glass jars with a picture of a baby on the front.
I couldn’t read what flavours they were, but one was orange, another green, and one a greyish pink. Grabbing all three, I shoved them into my cargo pockets, grabbed the platter with cheese and grapes along with the ham, and somehow balanced my haul back to the living room.