Dark Mirrors by Siobhain Bunni

any wonder he went berserk?”
    Casting professionalism aside, Penny snapped back. “That’s no bloody excuse, Esmée Myers, and you know it! But if that’s what you really think, well, you tell that to them because I don’t buy it.” And, throwing one last stinging glare, she swung the door open and slammed it after her.
    Esmée understood that Penny was upset, almost on the verge of tears. She’d be the same, worse even, if she were in Penny’s shoes – but she didn’t think she could face the humiliation of talking about what had happened. In a mere few hours she had been robbed of her dignity, her pride had been crushed and she felt disgraced and mortified. And now, dealing with all that, she was expected to stand in front of strangers and expose herself? And for what? What was the goal? More humiliation? Public acknowledgement that she had failed her husband, herself, her marriage, her family, her children? Penny must be delusional.
    Throwing off her pyjamas she stepped into the shower and turned the dial to maximum. Facing the hot spray she let the hard drops rain down on her. It really did sting like hell but she didn’t care. She stood there for an age, not caring about her two unwanted visitors waiting below, and let the water spill over her, breathing in the steam, feeling it tighten in her chest. Despite her long sedated sleep she was emotionally weary and physically drained. She tried to halt the relentless whys that continued to rush through her head.
    Why did it spin out of control like that? Why didn’t she listen to her mother?
    Why did she have to challenge him like that? Maybe if she’d approached it differently it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. Why did he have to hit her? She knew he’d be pissed off, but why this?
    Why? Was it love that drove him to it? Or was it that he cared nothing for her at all, that he wasn’t remotely concerned about the certain repercussions. Turning, she let the spray pelt her tense shoulders, dropping her head till her chin touched her chest.
    He had never been aggressive to either her or the children before, so why now?
    What had changed?
    Was it always there? Hidden deep beneath the charming façade in some veiled abyss of his soul?
    Was she responsible for unleashing it?
    Or perhaps it was something else?
    If so – what?
    And what of her two visitors downstairs, no doubt waiting impatiently, Penny probably reluctant to let them leave despite any protestations? Maybe they were occupying themselves by deviously probing her over-eager little sister, their casual questions cloaked in innocence in an attempt to get as much out of her as possible.
    What the hell was she supposed to do next? There was too much noise in her head and she just couldn’t think, couldn’t hear for all the static. It had to stop. She could feel her pulse increase and temperature rise. Immediately the lightness of her head intensified. With no way out of this ridiculous situation she was trapped, lost in a vast bleak corridor of locked doors with a useless fist of keys and a choice: one chance – pick the right one, or else. Confused, angry and caged in this beautiful waterproof cell, the once therapeutic vapours now suffocating her, she needed to get out. Fumbling, she felt for the shower controls and flung open the doors to gasp violently at the cold air outside. Dropping to the wet floor, she breathed deep and allowed her beating heart to settle back to an even pace. She had no idea how long she lay there. She was sure her delay would be seen as avoidance by her visitors. But she didn’t care. Picking herself up and wrapping the towel around her, she knew she was cornered. Armed with nothing more than a rolling mental sequence of questions she had no option but to get dressed, go downstairs and face the music.

    Chapter 8

    Composed and dressed simply in dark-blue fitted jeans, loose white shirt and mixed blue scarf tied protectively around her neck Esmée descended the stairs