“Get away from me,” Catherine cried, stepping back onto the balcony. “I don’t know what you are but leave me alone.”Leanan stepped closer. The wind whipping around her black shawl. The wind making it look like a nest of snakes was in her hair. Leanan’s eyes blazed as she stepped closer, her hand outstretched.“It’s ours, Catherine,” she whispered. “This moment belongs to us, embrace it, savour it. I made you, Catherine. You are mine.”Catherine shook her head. “No it’s not true, It isn’t,” she begged.“You didn’t really think it was your talent that suddenly made those editors want your work. It was us.” Leanan stepped closer. “It’s always been us. I am your Muse.”Catherine stepped back, climbing up onto the balustrade surrounding the balcony to get farther away. Leanan took another step closer. Her heels clicking on the tiles as she slowly stalked towards her young lover. Catherine could see a crowd was gathering at the doors to the balcony, watching her as she stood up on the wall.. She was huddled into a shell, as if trying to curl herself into a protective ball. She kept her eyes on the floor, never looking up at me. That started a new round of questions soaring through my mind: who, or what, were the tears for?Johnson put us in the back seat of his car, then climbed into the driver's seat and backed out. We were barely underway when Pam put a hand on my arm.I shook it off and hissed, "Don't touch me, bitch!"She cringed as if I had struck her. I have to admit that I wasn't far from it — I wanted to make her hurt physically just as much as she was making me hurt mentally. I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that I did not strike females!When we got home, I jumped out of the car and went inside, not waiting for Pamela. I took the stairs two at a time and went into our bedroom — 'our' bedroom? Ha! Not anymore, it wasn't! Going to the chest, I pulled out a drawer of her clothes, carried them to the guest bedroom and dumped the contents on the bed. Four trips.
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