Fragments
Copyright.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are coincidental. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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'Any song’s’ lyrics used are not affiliated with the author.
All Rights Reserved.
Fragments
Running on Empty series, book one
©M R FIELD
Trice
Under the lights, amongst the jazz shoes, blistered feet, and caked faces of the dance troupe, you pretend you’re someone else. The melody begins and your body responds. You allow it to weave into your skin until it’s made itself home in your soul. It is that dance that drives you. It is that dance that will continue to save you. It is that dance that will release you.
Until him.
Until your heart can no longer shut him out even after he’s pushed you away.
You can’t let him in again, can you? There’s only so much of your heart left to give.
Alex
She is the reason I can’t stay. The reason that the covered bruises, the lies, and the hurt are too much. I am no good for her. But when I see her again, I can’t stay away. Like Dante said, "The path to paradise begins in hell."
Note For The Reader
This book is set in Australia and has been written using UK English and contains euphemisms and slang words that form part of the Australian spoken word, which is the basis of this book’s writing style.
Please remember, that the words are not misspelled, they are slang terms and form part of the everyday, Australian lifestyle. Some euphemisms or slang terms have been provided below for your information. This book has been written using UK English.
If you would like further explanation, or to discuss the translation or meaning of a particular word, please do not hesitate to contact the author – contact details have been provided, for your convenience, at the end of this book.
Arse
-Ass
Reckon
-To believe/think
Ya
-You
Bagging
- To tease
Slapper
- similar to skank
Billabong
- An isolated pond, that is attached to a river.
Bloody
– Commonly used expletive to describe something, mild swear word
Shagging
– To have sex
Doona
- A quilted eiderdown or duvet
Cock-and-bull story
– A hard to believe story, made up story or a lie
Daft
– An expression or state of mind that is ditzy, blank or just plain empty
Git
– Silly, incompetent, stupid, silly
Lounge room
– Living room
Couch
– Sofa
Mate
– Buddy or friend
Mobile phone
– Cell phone
Paramedic
– EMT
Shitful
– A word that is used to describe something that is not good
Mole
- To term to use for a unruly girl/woman
Skank
– A promiscuous young woman, similar to a slut
Pashing
– To kiss passionately
Piss off
- Go away
Taxi
– Cab
Twat
– Fanny, Vagina
Knob
-Penis
Pants
-Trousers
Undies
-Underwear (briefs)
Feral
- To appear or behave in an unkempt manner.
Esky/Eskies
- a portable insulated container for keeping food or drink cool.
Wog
- A derogatory term used for a foreigner or immigrant, especially one from southern Europe.
There are also Italian terms used:
Amore
- A term of endearment. Love.
Finalmente
-Finally
Brodo
- Chicken broth
Basta
-Enough!
Uscite!
- Get out!
Da Sola
- By oneself
Adesso
-Now
Sei proprio brava
- you are really good
Sei innamorata?-
Are you in love?
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
To my husband and two little munchkins.
“I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart.” E.E Cummings.
In Memoriam- David Glasson. Almost ten years have passed and I miss you every day.
“Half way along the road we have to go,
I found myself obscured in a great forest,
Bewildered, and I knew I had lost the way.”
The Divine Comedy, Inferno I; lines 1-3.
Dante Alighieri
Trice
Dante once loved a woman so deeply that although they could never be together, he immortalised her in his writing. His love for her pushed him to venture through the layers of hell and purgatory to finally reach paradise so they could be united. Sounded romantic, didn’t it? But his love for her was only in his mind. She never physically touched him. No kisses, longing looks, no spoken words of affection. Just his written words, where he expressed all that he could never tell her.
I had grown up with the story my whole life. My mother used this passion for Italian literature to name me Beatrice. While she gushed and daydreamed about their tale, all I felt while she harped on was that he was a sad and lonely man who was married to someone else. I couldn’t understand why this story was so crucial to our motherland’s family heritage. To me, it was shit. Loving from afar, never being near the object of your affection, all seemed like a cruel joke. Dante, your writing was beautiful, but buddy, you were not living the high life. The love train ran you out, reversed back, and then flicked you to the other side.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realised what their story meant; how his love for her was immortalised into a beauty that most of us could only dream of experiencing. It didn’t matter that he never held her, as deep in his heart she was always going to be his. Looking back at my teenage years, love was not so kind. It was an arrow, the sharpened head dipped in a potion of confusion and heartache. Once struck, its archer- Alex, became the one I loved and no other could get close. Although unintentional, Alex punctured my heart, maiming the delicate tissue until all that remained was a fragmented, useless muscle. The beat was no longer steady; it drummed inconsistently against my rib cage in a weak arrhythmic thud. Love had deceived me with the illusion of happiness, only to betray me. Love was a twisted warrior and I was its wounded, blackened queen.
In hindsight, I was young, emotional, and weak. Prior to this, I had battled against the nefarious playground of high school, where most students were chameleons, unless you were tormented, like me. Ignoring the playground battlefield seemed like the only feasible option. What else could a teenage girl do? I ignored it all until that fateful day, when a scar was brutally etched into my skin, causing me to finally break my silence. My newfound strength saw me fighting back, while I was also hurled in the direction to the one person my heart could love. Alex didn’t mean to hurt and use me, but the emotional scars from that night lay heavy across the one that was already marked into my skin.
In the end, though, I believed we saved each other. We might not have realised growing up that we would love each other eventually, but no matter what separate adventures we had, our paths were destined to bring us back together. No sense in fighting it. It was just the way we were.
“Freakshow”
Silverchair
Alex
Autumn, 2004
My head flew back as the knuckles from my father’s hand crunched into my jawline. I stumbled, momentarily lost as the piercing pain tore through my wounded chin, weakening my stance. The metallic taste of blood filled my gaping mouth, as my fingertips tentatively held the side of my jaw.
My mother trembled as she crouched down on the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees for protection. I barely heard her muffled cries over the throbbing in my skull. Her right eye was almost swollen shut while her head turned away from me, refusing to come to my aid—again. The stench of bourbon punctured the air, as thrown chairs and smashed vases littered the lounge room floor.
A family portrait lay shattered on the ground, the shards of glass cutting into my bare feet. My sister’s face smiled back at me from the photograph and I thanked her lucky stars that she had missed today’s episode in the hellhole.
I swayed momentarily, adjusting my balance as my head continued to reverberate from the aftershock of his punch. My ears rung like a piercing whistle that increased as the stinging in my head intensified.