Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2)

by Marita A. Hansen

  Mrs. Hatton grabbed my face, forcing me to look at her. “Calm down, baby. You’re drunk. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real.”

  “I don’t want it to be real, make it not real.”

  I smashed my lips against hers, needing to lose myself in her. She let out a startled cry and fell onto her back, breaking the kiss. She stared up at me with wide eyes, making me feel guilty for having startled her. But before I could say sorry, she launched herself at me, pushing me against the couch. She climbed on top of me, her body weighing me down. But it was a weight I wanted to bear, rather than a memory I wanted to forget.

  She pressed her lips against mine. I let her take control, just wanting to live in the here and now. I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, nor did I want to.

  Her tongue slipped between my lips, forcing me to open up to her. I kissed her back, tangling our tongues together, feeling like I wasn’t drowning for once, Mrs. Hatton keeping me above water. I lifted my hands to her head, tangling my fingers in her hair, no longer registering—or caring, that the strands didn’t feel like they looked. All I cared about was making sure she didn’t pull away from me, growing a conscience when all I needed was comfort.

  Her hand slipped between us, her fingers flicking open the button on my pants. She unzipped me, her fingers delving under the folds of the material. I groaned into her lips as her hand worked its magic. She retracted it a moment later. I went to complain, but stopped as she started unbuttoning my shirt, her fingers moving swiftly, eager to strip me bare. I helped, wanting nothing between us.

  She yanked my shirt off and threw it aside, then buried her face into my neck, kissing it, sucking it, probably leaving a bruise. I placed a hand on her head, moaning in pleasure. Mrs. Hatton’s lips moved down my neck, chest, stomach...

  Before she could go lower, I placed a hand under her chin and forced her to look up at me. “Why do I want you so much?” I asked, not understanding my feelings for her, because it wasn’t just about fucking. I wanted more than that.

  She smiled at me, her face so happy. “I want you too. I love you so much.”

  I didn’t reply, not willing to say it back. It was too soon for the L word, plus I couldn’t afford to fall in love. No matter how much I wanted to be with her, she belonged to someone else, the ring on her finger proof of that. I looked down at it, wishing I could take it off, to pretend she was all mine.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked.

  “Why do you love me?”

  She moved back up my body, laying down on top of me. “Cos you’re everything to me, Dante.” She ran a fingertip down my nose. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect, everything a girl could want in a man.”

  I couldn’t understand how she could say that after today. “I’m not perfect, I bring pain. Nuthin’ but pain.”

  “No you don’t. You bring me so much pleasure.” She pushed upright, straddling my hips. “And I wanna make love to you.”

  She pulled off her top, throwing it aside, then unclipped her bra, drawing my attention to her gorgeous tits. I went to grab them, but she pushed off me, causing me to complain. She giggled like a schoolgirl and slipped her skirt off, along with her knickers, leaving her completely naked.

  I went to grab her again, but instead froze, her skin tone changing from a creamy white to a light brown before my eyes. Bewildered, I closed my eyes and reopened them, relieved that it had changed back, Mrs. Hatton a Pākehā once more.

  Smiling wide, she grabbed my pants and underwear, yanking them to my ankles, then climbed on top of me, getting ready to spear herself on my—

  “What the fuck are you doin’?” a yell came from behind me.

  Mrs. Hatton quickly scrambled off me. “Get out, Jasper!” she shouted, using her hands and arms to cover her tits and pussy.

  I tipped my head back on the couch’s armrest, looking upside down at my so-called mate, who was standing in the back doorway, glaring at Mrs. Hatton. His round face was bright red, with sweat dotting his brow and upper lip as well as drenching his armpits.

  “You two-timing ho,” he wheezed.

  “It’s not cheating if I’m not even goin’ out with you, you idiot,” Mrs. Hatton retorted, her voice sounding different. Not perfect. Her pronunciation off, or what Jasper called ghetto cool.

  I returned my attention to her, finding a naked Phelia standing where Mrs. Hatton had been. Confused, I glanced around the room, searching for her, but all I saw was tacky decor reminiscent of the seventies, with different shades of pink and crimson assaulting my eyes.

  Jasper slapped the back of my head. “You bastard! You know I wanted her, yet you lie to me, saying you’re not interested, while you’re fuckin’ her all along? We’re best mates! Bros!”

  I brought my hands to my head, not understanding any of this. My head was swimming, swimming, going under, drowning in confusion. I’d been with Mrs. Hatton, not Phelia. I didn’t want to fuck Phelia. I didn’t like her. It hadn’t been her I’d been kissing. I’d been kissing...

  Mrs. Hatton

  Phelia

  Mrs. Hatton

  Phelia

  Clara

  Fuck, I wanted that woman. And I was going to get her.

  I swung my feet over the side of the couch. One of my hands slipped out from under me, sending me crashing to the floor. I groaned and rolled onto my back, needing a breather for a second.

  “Are you drunk?” Jasper asked.

  I didn’t reply. Instead, I grabbed hold of the coffee table, using it to push to my feet, the pants around my ankles hindering my movement. I pulled them back up, along with my undies, wobbling as I did it.

  Jasper returned his attention to Phelia. “You got him drunk?”

  “N—”

  Before she could finish saying ‘No’ Jasper went for her. She squealed and hit out at him. Jasper grabbed her by the throat and shoved her against the wall by the fireplace. Phelia grappled at his hands, trying to break free.

  I moved around the table, doing my best not to fall on my face, everything unstable. “Let her go,” I said. When he didn’t, I yelled louder, “Let her go!”

  Jasper retracted his hand, leaving Phelia coughing and spluttering, her face redder than Annabelle Aston’s hair. “Touch Dante again and I’ll do a whole lot worse than that,” he snapped at her. He picked up a framed picture off the mantelpiece. “Like pay your mum a visit.” He threw the picture on the floor, making her shriek and jump to the side. He stomped a boot on the picture, grinding his heel into it. “Eat shit, bitch, I’m done with you.” He kicked the broken frame and spun around, heading for me.

  Bursting into tears, Phelia dropped to her knees, picking up the ruined picture.

  I shoved Jasper back as he neared me, angry he’d hurt Phelia and threatened her mum. Scared too. Especially after he’d shot Happy Meal’s mother in cold blood, no one off limits to him.

  I went to go to Phelia, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me.

  I pulled free, yelling, “Don’t touch me!”

  “Calm yo shit down,” he replied. “You’re totally tanked.”

  “I’m not drunk and I’ll smash your face in if you touch me or Phe-Phelia again.”

  Jasper shook his head. “You are drunk, Dante, and she’s not worth fighting over. She liquored you up so she could get into your pants. If I hadn’t shown, you could’ve knocked her up.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. The ho wuz gonna fuck you raw.”

  “No, I wuz gonna fuck Mrs.—”

  Jasper’s hand shot out, covering my mouth.

  I jerked my head back. “Stop touching me!”

  “Then, be careful what you say,” he hissed. He glanced back at Phelia, who was hurriedly pulling on her school uniform, her actions jerky and scared as she watched Jasper, probably afraid he’d attack her again.

  He refocused on me, concern colouring his hazel eyes. “You were with Phelia, no one else.”

  My gaze swept the room, again searching for Mrs. Hatton, w
ondering whether she’d run when Jasper and Phelia had appeared. But why would she even be in Phelia’s house?

  Jasper patted my cheek. “Earth to Dante.”

  I jerked my head back. “I told’ja not to touch me!”

  “You were in la-la land.” He swiped up my shirt off the floor and held it out for me to take. “Put it on.”

  Mad, I snatched it out of his hand, the holes hard to get my arms through. But as soon as I had it on, Jasper grabbed me by the shoulders, ushering me through the kitchen doorway.

  “Leave him alone!” Phelia called out. “He wants to stay.”

  Jasper stopped by the fridge, pulling me to a stop too. “Only cos you poured booze down his throat,” he snapped back. “He’s anyone’s when he’s drunk, and you bloody know it.”

  “No! He wuz upset and needed comfort.”

  Jasper let go of me and took a step closer to her. “That doesn’t involve fucking!”

  She inched back, her expression fearful once more. “Why are you bein’ so mean? You didn’t complain ’bout him fucking me in the threesome.”

  “Cos we were all together and rubbered up.” He sneered at her. “I betcha wuz tryna get pregnant to trap him.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “No!”

  A growl rumbled from Jasper’s chest. “Liar. Looks like Dante’s father wuz right ’bout you after all. You are a ho.”

  “Am not! And what if I did get pregnant? Me and Dante love each other.”

  Jasper laughed, the sound cruel. “You’re definitely lying now. He’s said enough times you make him soft.”

  “He wuz hard and you saw it!”

  “Even Old Lady Stewart could make Dante hard if she got him drunk. He hallucinates when he gets smashed. He would’ve thought you were someone else.”

  “No! He wants me.” She jabbed at her chest, her blouse not completely done up. “And you’re just jealous.”

  Jasper glared at her. “Maybe at first, but not now. I’m done with you, Phelia. No one uses my mate and gets away with it.”

  “I lied to the police for him!”

  “And you’ll continue doin’ so if you know what’s good for ya.”

  “I won’t dob him in, cos he’s coming back to me and you can’t stop him.”

  He took another step closer. “You wanna bet?”

  She backed up fast, reaching for the front door. “Stay away from me, you psycho!”

  He ran a finger across his throat.

  “Get outta my house, get outta my house!” she screamed.

  “Gladly.”

  He turned to me, pushing me towards the back door. I pulled away from him, not needing help, and definitely not from him. I fumbled with my shirt buttons as I descended the back stairs, tripping over the last one. Jasper grabbed me before I face-planted on the concrete path.

  He yanked me upright. “Take it easy, mate,” he said, steadying me.

  A gust of air whipped past me, rustling my shirt and the clothes on the rusty clothesline. I shoved Jasper away and headed around the side of the two-storey pink house that Phelia called home, the colour reminding me of candyfloss. I half-stumbled, half-walked down the driveway. Jasper strode after me, the clomp, clomp, clomp of his boots thudding against the concrete surface.

  I threw him a glare. “Piss off.”

  “No, you’re blotto.”

  “Cos of you. You ruin everything.” I rounded the fence, taking a right turn, willing the path to stay still for me. It was like a sea rolling beneath my feet, making it hard to stand upright let alone walk. But no surf sprayed my skin like at Bethells Beach. I wished I was there now, surfing with my oldest brother and uncle, riding the waves, free from Jasper.

  Another wave of pavement came at me, causing me to wobble. I reached out for a discoloured white picket fence to steady myself. Jasper grabbed me before I could get a hand to it, steadying me himself.

  I jerked free. “Fuck off!”

  “No,” he said. “You need me.”

  “Like a hole in the head.”

  “I wuz helping you! You should be thanking me, not fighting me.”

  I blinked at him. “For what? Ruining people’s lives?”

  “Happy Meal had it coming.”

  “No, Ms. Farris.”

  He grimaced. “That big-nosed bitch got what she deserved.”

  “No, she didn’t. You did it to get back at her for failing you.”

  “No! I did it for you! I love you like a bro, so quit walking all over me.”

  I blinked at him again. “I’m walking over you? Yooou walk over me. Doin’ whatever the fuck you li—” I listed to the side, the ground looking awfully close.

  Jasper yanked me to him. This time I didn’t pull away, feeling too light-headed.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  I wiped a hand down my face. “What wuz I saying?”

  “That I do whatever the fuck I like. But I don’t. I do it to protect you. I won’t lose another brother.”

  All my anger at him instantly disappeared, the sadness in Jasper’s voice reminding me why he was so overprotective. His older brother had died at the age of seventeen while trying to escape the cops, Rangi having been driving drunk.

  “I’m not gonna drive,” I said. “I ca-can’t even walk straight, let alone steer a car.”

  “I’m not talkin’ ’bout how Rangi died, I’m talkin’ ’bout how your bro almost died.”

  “What you gettin’ at?” I asked, not understanding what Ash had to do with anything.

  “He almost killed himself cos he wuz abused. I’m not lettin’ that happen to you.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “I’m not gonna commit suicide, if that’s what you’re thinking. Ms. Farris didn’t abuse me, while Phelia’s just a horny biatch and...” My thoughts went to his auntie, Ngaire an entirely different story.

  Not wanting to think about her, I pulled free from Jasper’s grip and continued stumbling down the footpath, wishing his auntie would kill herself. I stopped in my tracks and looked up at the sky, wondering if I could find a star to make it come true. But only patches of blue and clouds filled the sky, all the stars hiding away until night time.

  Jasper stopped next to me. “What are you doin’?”

  Wishing your auntie was dead.

  A sprinkle of rain touched my face. I tipped my head back further and opened my mouth, sticking my tongue out to taste it, pretending it was sea spray. But I couldn’t taste salt, only fresh autumn rain.

  “You wanna come to my house?” he asked.

  “No. I wanna go to Mrs. Hatton’s so she doesn’t go poof again. No magic, just her in front of me, on her knees, sucking me off.” I reached in front of me, imagining holding her head as she deep-throated me.

  Jasper sniggered. “She won’t live around here; she looks like an East Aucklander, or maybe from Papatoe.”

  I let go of her imaginary head. If I could even let go, because she wasn’t there. Unlike before in Phelia’s lounge. Or was that all in my head? I touched my lips, remembering her kissing me.

  Jasper patted my cheek again, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I said I don’t think she lives around here.”

  “She’s from Cockle Bay, and I’m gonna go seeee her.”

  “That’s like thirty minutes’ drive away. You can’t walk there, not to mention you’re tanked. She won’t wanna see your drunk arse.”

  “Don’t care. Want her.” Needing a ride, I glanced across the road, spotting a dark Ford with blacked out windows. I continued looking for something better. My gaze landed on a red Holden further down the road. I pointed at it, the car making me drool. “Get it for me.”

  Jasper’s face lit up. “Fuck yeah, I love Holdens. Wank material, especially the red ones.”

  “If you wanna make things up to me, drive me to Mrs. Hatton’s.”

  “I’m telling ya, she won’t be happy.”

  I jabbed a finger at his chest. “Yoou owe me, so drive me.” I started heading for the car, conc
entrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Striding past me, Jasper removed a folded wire from his back pocket and stopped by the Holden, getting the door open within seconds, my mate taking after his car-stealing dad.

  7

  Clara

  I turned into the airport car park, stopping at the entrance to grab a ticket to get past the barrier, my mind still on what had happened at school. First with Dante being arrested, then the scene over Helen...

  That could’ve been me. Should’ve been me.

  After the scene was over, the other teachers had gone back into the staffroom, talking amongst themselves. Marcia, the old food tech teacher, had been the loudest, letting everyone know what she thought of Helen. She’d labelled the maths teacher a hussy, rattling on about Helen’s clothes being too provocative for a high school, which I thought was nonsense. Helen didn’t wear anything inappropriate, she just had a great figure. But the talk didn’t end in the staffroom. In my first class after the break, the kids whispered amongst themselves, discussing what had happened. One of the louder boys had declared he’d seen Helen touch Dante, while a girl in the same class added she’d witnessed Dante blowing Helen a kiss. I’d told them to be quiet and pay attention to class, but they’d continued to talk with their friends, until I’d snapped and sent them out of class. In the end, I couldn’t wait for the final bell to ring, aching to get away from all the gossip swirling around, the kids’ wild stories filling my head with images of Dante with Helen. Which I didn’t believe. Except for the part where Helen had ‘eye-fucked’ Dante. I did believe that, especially after what she’d said in the pub’s restroom about Dante and his older brother. She’d insisted that Dante was a prostitute, and had even mentioned she’d pay to have sex with his brother, her words enough proof that she wasn’t as innocent as she claimed to be.

  I parked my husband’s Ford between a RAV4 and a BMW, almost hitting the latter with my door. I got out and made my way to the airport terminal, experiencing a muddle of feelings over what Helen had done. I half-wanted her to be had up for it, but at the same time felt like a hypocrite for thinking it.

  As I navigated around people, heading for the arrivals lounge, my mind returned to Dante. Back to his expression as he’d watched his father accuse Helen of paedophilia. The vulnerability and horror I saw on his young face played over and over again like a broken movie reel in my mind, making my heart clench and my stomach twist into tight knots. I wanted to cocoon him in my arms, wiping away all his upset, as well as to protect him from more.