Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1)

“You don’t know anything,” I spit back at him.

“Of course not. No one but you knows anything,” he replied.

We drove on, and I quickly realized we were heading for the airport. Daddy hadn’t been kidding when he said far away. The limousine was permitted to go through a special gate and directly to a small plane.

“What is this?” I asked.

“This is an airport and this is a plane,” Tomkins said.

“Very funny. Why am I going on a private plane?”

“You’re so special,” he replied with that same small cold smile on his lips.

The plane’s engines were started as we approached. The door was opened as we pulled alongside. Tomkins got out quickly and held the limousine door open. The chauffeur sat staring ahead. I hesitated, my body feeling like it had sunk into the car seat.

“Let’s go. I have other things to do today,” Tomkins snapped. When I still hesitated, he leaned in. “Do you want me to embarrass you and pull you out of the limousine?”

“Where am I going?”

“Hey, my job was to bring you here. The guy in the pilot’s seat knows where you’re going. Move,” he ordered.

I had no doubt he would pull me out, so I stepped out of the limousine. The wind whipped around us. Tomkins took my left arm, pinching it at the elbow with his thick fingers and directing me up the small stairway. I lowered my head and got into the plane. There was no one else there.

The door was slammed shut.

“Buckle yourself in,” I heard. I felt the plane begin to move.

I looked out the window. Tomkins was getting back into the limousine. It sped off as the plane turned and the engines were revved up.

What about my things? I realized. I hadn’t seen anything taken from the limousine and put onto the plane.

“Wait!” I shouted at the door between me and the cockpit.

The roar of the engines drowned out my voice.

“Where am I going?”

The plane began to roll faster and faster and soon lifted into the air.

I looked out the window.

“Mommy,” I whispered.

The sun went in behind a cloud as we rose higher.

Across the way, I saw my face reflected in the opposite seat’s window.

I was crying.

“Poor little rich girl,” I heard myself say.

PART THREE

PHOEBE

1

Mama’s Gone