Chronicles of Araxx - Forever Broken

During the next week, Lee learned a lot.

Bree taught her about the best places to go pickpocketing and the best people to take from. From the beginning, Lee decided she would only take from someone who looked very well off and always make sure she was not spotted or caught.

After a few times of watching and studying Bree, Lee had a go.

As it turned out, the red-head was a natural. She managed to steal a rich man’s wallet without him even knowing she was there. Upon close inspection, they found the wallet contained one hundred pounds.

“Not bad,” Bree praised.

Bree also showed Lee all the places not to steal from, making it clear that most shops had CCTV cameras, and it would not be smart to steal with one around. For this reason, Bree said if she needed something from a specific shop, or if she needed food, she should buy it, but that the markets were good for getting free clothes.

Both girls were sitting on a pillar each in Covent Garden where they watched a street performer juggling a chainsaw while riding a unicycle.

They had been all over London that day and even bought clothes to work out in after Lee complained of being too unfit every time they had to make a run for it.

Sitting watching the man juggle, while eating the sandwich Lee had bought from the shop around the corner, Lee piped up with the question that had been burning on her mind for the last week, ever since she met Bree, “If you don’t mind me asking, Bree, how did you come to live here, on the streets?”

Bree stopped eating her tuna wrap straight away and looked at Lee.

“I’ve never told anyone,” she said, looking a little sheepish.

“Come on, Bree. I told you about me.” Lee pushed. She was curious to know and it was the one thing Bree never told her.

“I don’t know.” She was hesitant.

“We’re friends, right?” Lee smiled at her. It was true. In the last couple of days together, Bree and Lee had become very close friends.

“Yeah, but you’ll think less of me if I tell you,” she said.

“I could never think less of you,” Lee encouraged.

“Alright, but not here,” Bree said. “Let’s go home and I’ll tell you there.”

They hurried back to the flat and climbed in through the window.

Once Bree had closed it behind her, she turned to look at Lee, a worried expression on her face. “I don’t want you to think less of me,” she repeated.

“Bree, I promise, I won’t,” Lee encouraged. She couldn’t think of anything Bree could say that would make her think less of the only friend she had ever had.

“Okay,” Bree said, as she sank into one of the beanbags and removed her shoes.

“I’ll make drinks, then you can tell me everything,” Lee said.

She went into the kitchen and turned the kettle on.

Lee played with her hair as she waited for the kettle to boil. Her hair had grown longer and was now below her shoulders and almost level with her armpits. It had grown quickly, but her hair always did. She twirled it around her fingers until she heard the click of the kettle.

A few minutes later, Lee entered the living room with two cups of minty hot chocolate, both with little marshmallows floating on top. It was Bree’s favourite drink, and Lee knew it would cheer her up.

Her face instantly lit up as the smell of mint and chocolate filled the room. She took it from Lee, who took the position on one of the other beanbags, also removing her shoes.

It had grown darker outside, so Lee turned on the lamp next to her as Bree began telling her story.

“I guess it started before I was born. See, I never knew my father. He was in the army, and he died while he was away in another country and my mother was still pregnant with me. Life was good when I was little, aside from having no father, but my mum and I were happy. We had my father’s insurance money to live on, and she was holding down a part-time job, while looking after me, too.”

“When I started school, mum took up a full-time job, and we got a bigger house. Up until then, we had been living in a small one bedroomed place, but when we moved I got my own room. It was after, maybe a year, of living in our new house, when my mum met a man. He seemed nice at first.”

Bree took a sip of her hot chocolate. “I think I was about seven when he moved in with us. He was nice when mum was around at first, but when she wasn’t there, he would shout at me and call me names. I have a thick skin, so I brushed most of it off and mum loved him, so I had to tolerate him for her sake.”

“It was when he started turning on my mum that I got mad. One day, I saw him hit her, right across the face. I mean, I’d seen bruises on her arms and legs before, but mum was always clumsy and walking into things. I then started to wonder how many of her bruises were caused by him. His abuse towards me then became physical too, and he hit me. He would throw things at me, too. He became a slob and a bully, and insisted on me calling him Dad.”

“I was ten when my mum died of cancer. She became very ill very quickly, not helped by him making her do things for him, cook, clean, work, all while he sat on his fat ass, eating and drinking himself into a drunken state.”

Bree paused, clearly calming the anger which was boiling up inside her. She took another sip of her chocolate drink.

Lee kept silent, listening carefully to every word Bree said.

“Once mum died, I took over all the chores. Not because I wanted to, but because if I didn’t do it, no one would, and he would beat me if I didn’t cook or clean.”

“Then, one day, it all came to a climax. I was sick and tired of being bossed around by that bully, and I snapped. I shouted back at him. Telling him if he wanted food, he could get off his lazy ass and get it himself. He got really mad and stormed into the kitchen, an angry look on his round face, steam practically pouring from his ears. He lunged at me, and I reacted in self-defence.”

Bree paused again, staring off into space, sweating a little as she remembered the events which followed.

“It was the day before my thirteenth birthday, you know?”

“Bree, what did you do?” Lee asked softly.

“I... I killed him. Stabbed him through the heart with the kitchen knife I was holding. He just dropped to the floor, bleeding.” She rushed her words. “I didn’t know what to do. I just ran.” Tears were welling up in her eyes.

Lee got up from her beanbag and moved to her instantly, holding her as she cried.

It was horrible watching Bree cry.

She was such a strong person, and she’d had such a terrible life.

Lee put her to bed, reassuring her over and over again that she did not think any less of her.

She left Bree in the bedroom, puffy eyed and tired, but the crying had stopped at least.

Lee thought it wasn’t the act of killing the horrible man who became her guardian after her mum died that made her cry, it was the idea that Bree might lose her only friend.

Lee knew this because it was her worst fear too.