Red Queen by Honey Brown

the headboard banging and the whole bed groaning like my father would have worked up to by now.
    I inched closer to the window, stepping over rusty tins and old planters filled with dirt and weeds. I held the shotgun in one hand and had a moment of out-of-body lightness as I saw my own dark figure and what it was doing. What my life had been reduced to.
    I was as close as I dared. The window was about an arm’s-length from me. The curtains were open. I held the gun by the barrel and rested the stock on the boards and pulled a tight face in anticipation of some noise I would make.
    There was no wind, the owls were quiet for me, the crickets a monotone that hardly registered. The silence from the bedroom was impossible – I was sure they could hear me , breathing. I sunk down on my haunches and waited.
    Clear, and with no telling inflection, I heard Rohan say, ‘Come here.’
    There was some movement on the bed.
    I was proven wrong in that second, by the rolling voice of Rohan, by the squeak of the bed, because at least the silence had contained in it the hope that nothing was happening. Now came the reality that something was.
    I heard it all, my forehead on my knees, the gun by my side, the night drifting around me, I heard enough to know the sex was rough, wordless, and over when Rohan came. I heard Denny’s silence as an industrial-strength roar in my head.

5
    STRADDLING A SHEEP and with her fists full of wool, Denny frowned up at me and said something about this one being small. The sheep jerked and wormed under her and she sat on it to keep it still.
    My lower back ached, and a thick line of pain made a curving track up my arm as I worked the shears; but the work was made immeasurably easier with Denny helping.
    ‘I won’t be able to do this alone again,’ I said.
    ‘You won’t have to. I’ll help you every day. I’d much rather this than be stuck inside the cabin.’
    I finished and shook the pain from my hand and forearm. Denny let the sheep run through her legs. She came to stand beside me and we looked at the mob. A light breeze moved around us. I looked down at Denny’s boots.
    ‘How are they?’
    ‘Good,’ she answered, putting one foot out in front.
    ‘No blisters?’
    ‘Some.’
    ‘We’ll finish now.’
    ‘What time do you reckon it’d be?’
    ‘Early afternoon.’
    ‘Wanna walk down the creek?’ she asked.
    I looked at her. ‘What do you mean?’
    She kicked off her boots and stuffed her socks inside, then sat the boots neatly against a tree. She picked up the gun and grabbed my hand, tugging me along with her.
    ‘It’s not far,’ she said.
    I fell into step beside her, and let go of her hand.
    She brought the gun up to her shoulder, feeling its weight.
    ‘Shouldn’t someone show me how to use the guns?’ she asked.
    ‘Be careful.’
    ‘How do you reload it?’
    She opened the gun and took out a cartridge; slipped it back in and snapped it shut.
    ‘Just like that,’ I said, my gaze on her face.
    ‘You always keep it loaded?’
    ‘Mmm.’
    ‘Here – have it back. I can see you’re stressing out.’
    Once over the fence and through an open stretch the bush became tall and unknown. It was cooler and spongy under foot. We had to use our hands to get over fallen moss-covered logs and to climb down washouts in the ground. I kept glancing over at Denny, because she seemed to know her way.
    The creek came up unexpected; I’d only known it nearer to the road, where it was shallow, but here in the bush it was narrow and black. It slipped under fallen branches and mossy overhangs. Ferns covered the ground. The peace of the place settled me. Denny found a rock and perched on top of it.
    ‘You know this place?’ I asked.
    ‘Not really.’
    ‘But you’ve been here before. You really cased the place out, didn’t you?’
    ‘Wouldn’t you have?’
    ‘I spose.’
    I found something dry to sit on.
    ‘This is technically breaking the rules, Denny. This is not the yard. We’ve left