Hallie flew through the dark sky. The wind rushed past her ears.
Suddenly, the tight pull shifted. It was as if another, older wound cried out, overriding the first-the primal ache of the first betrayal she had ever known. A different, weaker force yanked her sharply to the left.
She crashed down through a concrete ceiling. She landed on a sticky, dirty floor.
The smell of cheap tobacco and stale beer filled her nose. Loud electronic bells rang from rows of slot machines.
Hallie stood up. She looked at the poker table in the corner.
Dafne Hill sat on a cheap plastic stool. Her eyes were red. She held a lit cigarette between her yellowed fingers.
This was the woman who raised her. Her mother.
Dafne pushed her last three plastic chips into the center of the table. She yelled at the dealer to deal the cards. The dealer flipped the cards and scooped her chips away.
Dafne slammed her hands on the table. She opened her mouth to scream.
Her cheap cell phone rang in her jacket pocket.
She pulled it out and glared at the screen. She pressed the green button.
"Who is it? I am busy losing money!" Dafne yelled.
A calm voice came through the speaker. "Is this Ms. Dafne Hill? I am calling from the emergency department at Seattle Central Hospital."
Dafne froze. She took a drag of her cigarette.
"We are calling to inform you that Hallie Monroe died in a car accident tonight," the nurse said. "We need you to come claim the body."
Hallie floated right next to Dafne's shoulder. A tiny, pathetic piece of hope fluttered in her chest. She waited for her mother to cry. She waited for a single tear.
Dafne's eyes widened. She sat up straight.
"Dead?" Dafne asked quickly. "Did she leave a life insurance policy? Am I the beneficiary?"
The nurse paused. "We do not have any insurance information on file, ma'am. We just need a family member to sign the release forms."
The excitement dropped from Dafne's face. Her mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. She spit on the dirty floor.
"If there is no money, why would I go look at a corpse?" Dafne shouted into the phone. "That little bitch was cheap when she was alive. Now she wants to waste my plane ticket money?"
"Ma'am, we need someone to-"
"I do not care what you do with her!" Dafne interrupted. "Throw her in the incinerator. Bury her in a ditch. Do not call me again!"
Dafne hit the end button. She threw the phone onto the poker table. She muttered curses about Hallie ruining her luck.
Hallie stood completely still. The words hit her like physical blows to the stomach.
Cold memories rushed into her head. She remembered being sixteen. She remembered working long shifts at the diner to save for college.
She remembered Dafne ripping her backpack open, taking the crumpled bills, and pushing her into the mud outside their trailer.
She remembered Dafne showing up at the Monroe Group lobby last year, screaming for alimony until Hallie handed over her credit card.
Hallie looked at the woman laughing with the man next to her, begging for a twenty-dollar loan.
A dry, silent laugh tore from Hallie's throat.
She was garbage to them. She had never been loved. Not by her husband. Not by her mother.
A hot, violent anger boiled in her chest. The energy spiked.
The fluorescent light bulb above the poker table flickered wildly. It buzzed loud and popped.
Dafne jumped in her seat. She cursed the casino's cheap electricity. She did not look around.
The thin, invisible string connecting Hallie to Dafne snapped. The bond was gone.
The stronger, violent force grabbed Hallie again. It wrapped around her waist.
The dirty basement vanished. The bright lights of the Manhattan skyline rushed toward her face.
She fell fast from the clouds. She dropped straight toward the massive penthouse in Tribeca. The home she shared with Aidan.
