C31 Soon Enough

Mauve stood quietly in the kitchen, her hands trembling as she picked up the bowl of chorizo and bean stew she’d prepared with her money.

She needed peace to return to the house.

She needed her babies to come back home.

Most importantly, she needed Tad to be in a good mood so she could talk about going to the police again.

He had forbidden it when she first mentioned it. He even made her call off the policemen who were called when Cathy went missing in Maleny. She hoped his favourite stew would turn him back to the loving man she had always known.

She needed his support to bring her babies home. She was, after all, a woman. A woman needed a strong man like Tad in her life to handle things like that. She just wanted them to be one happy family again.

Her heart yearned for her children as she took the stew to the small living room, with its threadbare furniture and cracked linoleum flooring. He had his eyes glued to the sports rerun on the box TV.

She’d been extra careful with the food, making sure everything was just the way Tad liked. But as soon as he saw her, his face twisted in disgust.

“What is this?” he snapped, eyeing the food like it was a personal insult. “Can’t even make a decent meal, can you?”

Mauve swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I... I thought you liked this stew. I did it just as you like.”

His hand shot out, sending the bowl crashing to the floor, splattering the stew across the flooring. “Don’t you get it, Mauve? You’re useless to me now. Can’t control your daughter, can’t even make a proper meal. Pathetic.”

Mauve flinched, biting back the tears that pricked her eyes. “Please, Tad… I’m trying. I’m doing my best.”

“Trying?” He let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “If this is your best, no wonder Annabelle turned out the way she did. Running off with a man, abandoning her family. All because of you.”

She shook her head, pleading. “She didn’t abandon us. Anna is a good girl. She was…”

Tad’s hand swung towards her with a stinging slap. The force of it sent her stumbling back onto the nearby couch.

His voice was laced with venom as he continued. “Shut up! She ran off because you’re weak. A good mother would’ve kept her in line. You let her steal her sister and run off with some man. All because you’re too soft to discipline her.”

Mauve felt the familiar sting of shame wash over her, but she forced herself to stand up straighter. “We don’t know that, Tad. You told me yourself, but you wouldn’t let us involve the police. My baby girl would do anything to protect her sister and…”

“Protect?” Tad sneered, his eyes narrowing. “Is that what you call it? She’s living in sin, Mauve. Probably lying in bed with some man right now, and it’s your fault.”

He shoved her roughly, and she staggered, barely catching herself against the backrest of the couch. The pain was nothing compared to the sudden fear that tore through her when she saw him storming towards the door.

She raised a hand in a desperate attempt to reason with him.

“Tad, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please don’t leave. We can… we can talk about this. I just…”

“Talk?” He laughed again, the sound harsh and mocking. “I don’t have time to talk to a woman who can’t even keep her family together.”

With that, he pushed her aside, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She reached out, grabbing at his leg in a final, desperate attempt to hold him back. “Please, Tad. Don’t go. I need you. We need you…”

He looked down at her with nothing but contempt. “Get your hands off me, Mauve. You’re pathetic.”

And with that, he turned and stormed out, leaving her alone on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

*******

At the bar, Tad took a long swig of his drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol numb the sting in his barely healed hand. He clenched and unclenched it, testing the limits of the bruised flesh. The memory of Dante’s warning lingered at the back of his mind, but he brushed it aside, too fueled by anger and liquor to care.

Annabelle. Her name danced through his mind, igniting something dark within him. He could still picture her.

Defiant, rebellious, daring to escape his control. His jaw tightened, and his grip on the glass grew fierce as he thought about the way she’d slipped through his fingers. He’d disciplined her, trained her, and still, she had defied him.

“Ungrateful,” he muttered, finishing his drink and signalling for another. “She owes everything to me. Everything.”

The bartender shot him a wary glance but filled his glass without comment, sliding it back to him with practised indifference. Tad barely noticed, his mind drifting deeper into his memories of Annabelle, twisted and blurred by the alcohol.

“Belongs to me,” he slurred, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Body, mind, soul. I gave her my name. She’s mine.”

A dark thrill coursed through him as he recalled the way she used to look when she was under his thumb, the way she’d squirmed, resisted, only to fall silent when he asserted his authority. The image alone was enough to make his pulse quicken, a sick satisfaction bubbling within him.

Dante’s face flickered through his memory as the pain seemed to flare in his nearly healed hands. But it felt distant, unimportant.

Tad flexed his fingers, wincing at the ache but pushing it aside.

That bastard didn’t own her. Annabelle was his. She had always been his. A smirk twisted his lips as he lifted his glass again, drowning whatever sense of caution he had left.

The more he drank, the more his thoughts circled back to her, the anger simmering hotter with every swallow. She had dared to run, dared to betray him. And now she was out there, somewhere, living a life without him, probably still under that man’s roof.

He clenched his teeth, his hand shaking with rage.

“Not for long,” he muttered to himself. “Not for long.”

The thought settled like a challenge in his mind, his pulse quickening with each second that passed.

He knew she had to be in Acadia. Even though he was blindfolded and had been dropped at the crossroads that led to Acadia, Maleny and Stoneraine, his years as a ranger had not been for nothing.

He was sure of it.

He pulled out his phone, dialling a number he hadn’t used in years. His fingers fumbled over the keys, but he managed, his mind too clouded with alcohol, to second-guess his decision.

As the line connected, Tad straightened, forcing a slur of confidence into his voice. “Got a favour to ask.”

The voice on the other end was cautious, almost reluctant. “Who’s this?”

“An old friend,” Tad replied, his lips curling into a dark smile. “I need some… information. Someone to find. A girl. She’s in Acadia.”

There was a long pause, followed by a hesitant question. “What’s in it for me?”

Tad leaned back, smirking as he swirled the contents of his glass. “Let’s just say… if you help me, I’ll make it worth your while. This girl, she’s… special. She belongs to me, but someone’s taken her.”

Another pause, then a chuckle from the other end of the line. “So you’re still causing trouble, huh?”

He grinned, the alcohol fueling his bravado. “You know me. Can’t leave things unfinished.”

The voice hesitated, then let out a sigh. “Fine. But if she’s with someone dangerous, you’re on your own. I’ll send someone to look into it, but no promises. This doesn’t sound like it’ll end well for you.”

Tad’s jaw clenched, anger flaring again. “Just do it. She’s mine, and no one’s going to keep her from me. Not now, not ever.”

There was a low hum of agreement before the person told him to send her details.

Then the line disconnected, leaving Tad alone with his thoughts and his drink. He took another swig, his mind racing with twisted anticipation. Soon, he’d have her back. Annabelle couldn’t run forever, not from him.

As he sat there, lost in his fantasies, the images in his mind grew darker, his thoughts clouded with a toxic mix of lust and anger. He saw her again, as she had been.

Under his control, subdued, helpless. The thrill it gave him was intoxicating, a high he’d been chasing since the moment she’d defied him.

He muttered under his breath, the words slurred and venomous. “You’ll be mine again, Annabelle. This time, no one will come between us. Not that cocky bastard, not anyone.”

In his mind, he could already picture it.

The reunion, the moment she’d finally submit, and the life they’d live together.

He would break her spirit, and bring her back to where she belonged.

Under him. Dependent on him. Just like before.

With a satisfied smile, he raised his glass, as if toasting to his twisted dream. “To us, Annabelle. Soon enough, you’ll see where you truly belong.”