Archive of Our Own ^beta

Marie crept quietly into the storage room and peeked through the crack in the door. Inside, Ruby was being shoved from one prisoner to another, with taunts and jeers echoing off the concrete walls. The threat of violence hung heavy in the air.

Or something far worse.

Marie’s heart pounded as she scanned the room, noticing a wooden pallet with loose panels leaning against the wall. Just then, Mullet’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Kill the little piglet!”

Three of Lou’s crew pinned Ruby’s arms to stop her fighting back. Another woman drove a savage kick into Ruby’s stomach, causing her to double over, gasping for air.

Without thinking, Marie burst into the garbage room. She swung a solid plank of timber, catching Mullet across the back and shoulders, sending her crashing into a group of women standing nearby.

“Let her go!” Marie yelled at them as she jabbed the board into the gut of one of Lou’s crew, followed by a swift belt to the head. Another foolishly approached her, but she swung that plank like a baseball bat, and they fell to the floor.

Ruby pushed her way towards the exit in all the commotion, past Marie and took a moment to glance back at the women as they closed in. Marie backed up slowly, protecting her, threatening to take a swipe at anyone who tried to run at them.

“Go! Get out, Ruby! Get out now!”

The group formed a semi-circle, edging in closer, but Marie held them back. “Get off!” she yelled at them in a menacing tone. “Stay the fuck back!”

Marie looked over her shoulder and noticed Ruby still standing there, blocking the exit. “Ruby! Ruby, you’re in my fuckin’ way! Go! I’ll be right behind you!”

Ruby hesitated at first, not wanting to leave, but then ran from the room as Marie turned her attention back to the women. “Stay the fuck back!”

“Fuck you, Winter!” One of the women yelled back.

Marie continued to hold the plank of wood out in front of her, ready to take them all on if necessary. “Come on, you cunts!”

Marie barely registered the movement behind her before a hand snatched the plank from her grip. She spun around, heart pounding, just in time to see Lou clutching the weapon, her expression unreadable. With a casual flick, Lou tossed the plank aside.

She dropped her gaze to the butcher’s knife glinting in Lou’s left hand. Panic surged through her, but before she could react, Lou yanked her ponytail back, forcing Marie to meet those cold, soulless eyes.

“This is for Reb,” Lou told her in a calm manner.

The knife plunged in with brute force, sliding up and under Marie’s ribcage. Lou twisted the blade slowly, slicing through vital organs. Then, with mechanical precision, she drove the steel up and down, again and again until she was satisfied. Only then did Lou pull the knife free. Marie dropped to her knees, clutching the gaping wound as the blood stained her teal shirt.

Marie had always believed that no one should die alone, yet in her final moments, she found herself isolated. As her breathing grew shallow, she lay on her back, fixated on the expanding light above her; her life replaying in vivid flashes during those last seconds, like she was watching a highlight reel of her now completed memoirs…

THE BOGEYMAN

Most young girls celebrate their thirteenth birthday with slumber parties, horse riding, or trips to the city to see the latest movie with friends. But not Marie. For her, the first night of her teen years meant something else entirely as she spent it trapped beneath her stepfather—the beginning of a nightmare that would repeat itself, week after week.

Parents everywhere reassure their children that the bogeyman doesn’t exist. Marie knew better. For her, the monster was all too real, and the pain was sharp and intolerable. When she cried, he struck her, silencing her pleas. In the morning, she stared at the blood on the sheets, unsure whether to feel relief or dread at having survived the night.

It had been six months since that first night, and eight months when her mother overdosed on a bad batch laced with rat poison. Speed? Heroin? She could never remember which. The details blurred together, but one thing remained clear: her stepfather’s visits grew more frequent, each one justified by his twisted claim that he was ‘collecting her share of the rent.’

One morning, as she walked toward school, something inside her snapped. Instead of turning left through the gates, she kept walking straight ahead, away from everything she knew. She didn’t have a plan, only the certainty that whatever lay ahead had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

THE STREET KID

Marie shivered violently beneath a piece of cardboard that barely passed for a blanket. The two industrial bins flanking her offered little shelter from the biting wind and the rain that had already soaked through her threadbare clothes. Was it wrong to wish that one of the street kids sleeping inside the bins wouldn’t wake up? At least then, she’d have a place to keep warm when the winter temperatures dropped to two degrees.

She never stayed in one spot for long. The threat of child protection officers sweeping through the city’s homeless hotspots kept her moving, and she couldn’t risk being picked up, given a case number, and dumped in a foster home.

Midweek nights in the laneways were usually quiet. Office workers hurried home to their families, leaving the streets emptier, safer—for a few hours, at least.

Except tonight.

Nearby moans and pleading woke Marie from her slumber, and she peeked around the corner of the bin, careful not to be seen.

‘What have I told you about not paying up?” The man repeatedly sunk his boot into the other man’s groin. “No one fucks my girls for free!”

“Please, Joey! I need more time to pay!”

“You said that last week. Until you do, you won’t be needing this!”

Captivated by the scene presented to her, Marie pictured in her mind that her stepfather was lying on the ground, as the boot came down hard on the man’s groin one last time. Joey unzipped his pants and urinated on the unconscious body, whipping it away when he heard a loud Yeesss! from somewhere down the dark laneway.

Marie quickly ducked back between the bins, curling herself into a tight ball just like a cat, praying she hadn’t been seen or heard.

Not that she believed in God.

“What do we have here?”

The scared, little girl looked up, blinded by the torch light being shone in her face. “I swear I didn’t see anything!”

“Bullshit! Stand up when I’m talking to you. How old are you? Ten?”

People were always saying shit like that. They automatically assumed her short height and lack of curves meant she was younger than she looked. “I’m sixteen.”

“Really? Unless you want a fat lip, try again.”

“I… I’ll be fourteen in three months.”

“Hmmm, still a few of years off from being legal. Do you have any money?”

Marie shook her head, feeling the familiar ache of disappointment. Begging for loose change was exhausting work. Most people hurried past, hands buried in pockets, and those who did spare a coin always seemed to favour the long term homeless who guarded their street corners like prized territory. After only three months living rough, Marie knew she was far from claiming any ‘prime real estate’ in the city’s bustling CBD. Instead, she learned to adapt. Waiting for the fast-food restaurants to open, she’d slip inside during the lunchtime rush, scavenging for leftovers while the staff were too busy serving customers to notice her presence.

That night, Marie enjoyed the best meal she’d had in weeks—a simple cheeseburger, fries, and Coke. To most, it wouldn’t seem like much, but after so many days of going hungry, the hot, fresh food felt like a feast. Joey slid his tray toward her, keeping only his black coffee, and Marie gratefully devoured every bite. She managed a muffled thank you between mouthfuls, barely pausing as she ate with a hunger that made manners impossible.

“Slow down, kid, or you’ll give yourself indigestion. So, where are you holing up?”

“Marie. My name is Marie.” She licked the last streaks of tomato sauce and mustard from her fingers, glancing up to size Joey properly. His short and spiky hair looked like it was losing a battle with the bottled bleach, with dark roots creeping in. He could use a shave, too, and maybe lay off the cheap perfume; the scent strong enough to make her nose wrinkle. Still, for someone ancient—at least by her standards—he didn’t look half bad. Funny how, when you’re thirteen, anyone past twenty seems practically prehistoric.

“I live with my dad and four older brothers,” Marie paused, thinking of that fat lip. “It was my stepfather, but he used to hurt me, so I ran away.”

“I’ll bet you’ve yet to experience your first menstruation. Correct?” Marie nodded. “A man who mistreats a young girl will always get their own back. If he ever crosses your path again, tell me and I will repay the favour for you.”

“The favour?”

“For not telling anyone what you saw in the laneway.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no snitch,” she assured him, taking another bite from her burger.

“Good to hear, but living rough in Kings Cross is no picnic, given it’s full of street walkers and men with a hard on.” Joey leaned over and nicked a chip from Marie’s plate. “I have a spare room at my place with a warm bed and three meals a day. No strings attached, but if you’d rather keep sleeping under cardboard, that’s your choice. I’ll be gone when my coffee’s finished, so you’ll need to quickly make up your mind.”

Joey picked up his cup and downed the hot liquid in three gulps, then pushed his chair out, readying himself to leave.

“Wait!” Marie yelled out to stop him from leaving.

That night, Marie had her first uninterrupted sleep for nearly a year. Although, she did push the chest of drawers up against the door just in case.

THE BOYFRIEND

It turned out Joey was twenty years her senior, but unlike her stepfather, he kept his dick in his pants. He also knew a lot of women who would frequent the house at all hours, dressed to impress. They would never stay long, and Joey would make some excuse that he was heading down to The Cross, and would be back shortly, always locking the deadlock behind him. Sometimes he would arrive back within minutes, whistling happily to himself, and other times he would be away for several hours, turning up at an early hour with bloodied knuckles, mumbling something about fucking wankers testing his patience. Marie would listen, tending to his wounds without ever saying anything.

Joey may have been a bastard to some, but to her, he showed nothing but kindness. The day before her fourteenth birthday, she experienced her first period and Joey went out and bought her a packet of pads, teaching her how to use them. “The transition from a young girl to becoming a woman is now complete,” he explained to her. “For the bud has now blossomed into an exquisite rose.” Those words helped put her at ease and when he gently tucked some loose strands of Marie’s blonde hair behind her ear, she ‘felt funny’ down there just like she had the last few times when he paid her compliments and made a fuss over her.

Is this what love feels like?

The following night, Joey surprised her with a birthday cake complete with one candle for each year she had been on this godforsaken planet. It was the first cake she had all to herself, and Joe laughed as she attempted to blow out all candles in one go, leaving spittle over the icing.

“I got this for you.” Joey pushed a flat slim box across the table to her. It was wrapped in silver paper and decorated with a large magenta bow. “I hope it’s the right size, but if not, I’m sure you’ll eventually grow into it.”

Marie unwrapped the paper and lifted the lid, her fingers trembling with anticipation. She gently freed the silky garment from its white tissue, but the fabric slid through her hands. Nothing she’d ever touched felt so impossibly soft and delicate. For a moment, she simply stared, mesmerized by the way it caught the light.

“What is it?” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s a… night dress. All women love to wear these to bed.”

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!”

“A beautiful garment for a sexy young lady, and the teal colour will bring out the blue in your eyes,” Joey told her. “Why don’t you try it on and give ol’ Joey a showing like one of them supermodels strutting the catwalk?”

The lingerie was three sizes too big, but that didn’t matter as that night Marie willingly allowed him into her bed, and despite the slight cramping from her menstruation, she enjoyed having him inside her. She also concluded that sex wasn’t so bad when it’s with the right person.

The following day he moved her into his room, and it would be another two years before the garment fitted her perfectly.

THE PIMP

How long does the honeymoon phrase last in a new relationship? Six months? A year? For Marie, it was four months when Joey started inviting some of his girls around, showing her how to apply makeup, walk in high heels, and how to act and to dress herself to look attractive to men. At first, she naively believed it was to please the man she now loved, until one of the girls named Stella, took pity on her and sat her down, explaining her boyfriend was grooming her to enter the sex trade. The new sexual positions Joey had been teaching her–the same ones she had mistaken as part of their lovemaking–would soon be put to effective use.

“With a pretty face like yours, the fellas will be lining up,” Stella assured the youngster. “You’ll build up a loyal clientele who will request your services every time. Aim for the rich ones, honey, as they make the best tippers and whatever you do, don’t withhold any money from Joey, or you’ll cop a hiding. He’ll then decide how much you’re allowed to keep.”

“But I don’t want to have sex with strangers!” Marie blurted out. “Joey would never allow that because he’s my boyfriend!”

“Has he ever said he loves you?”

Marie thought back to all the intimate moments they had shared together. “No, but I know he cares for me very much.”

“The only thing Joey cares about, is money and if you don’t do as you are told, he’ll slash your face with a blade like he did with his last girlfriend who defied him. No man will touch you once they see the hideous scars.” Stella opened her handbag and pulled out a small plastic vial, handing Marie a tiny white pill.

“Is this so I won’t have a baby?”

Stella laughed. Kings Cross, or ‘The Cross’ as it was commonly known in the 90s, was a regular haunt for men on the prowl and not a place for a kid. This one was so green, Stella doubted Marie would make it in this tough-as-nails industry. “No, Joey will fix that up for you. That magic pill you’re holding will help numb the pain of your first night on the job. Makes it easier to fake an orgasm for them too.”

“It still hurts?” Marie examined the tiny pill, turning it over several times between her thumb and index finger.

“Nah, love. Joey’s already broken you in.”

“No, my stepfather was my first.”

“Oh. That explains why you’re stuck in this shithole instead of being tucked up in your own bed at your parents’ place. Nah, I’m talking about mentally, but as time goes on, you’ll learn to block it all out. Don’t become reliant on these drugs, or it will fuck you up and you’ll wind up dead in some gutter.”

“Just like my mum,” Marie muttered under her breath. “Can I ask, how old are you?”

“Fifty, going on seventy. Been doing this longer than I can remember.”

“Why do you do it?” It was a question Marie had wanted to ask but never found the courage. Joey always told her to never engage with the women when they were working, which to her, seemed like all the time.

“It pays the bills. Get used to it because the moment you open your legs for your first customer, you won’t know how to do anything else. But I’ll let you in on a little secret – guys will do anything to satisfy their sexual appetite. If you’re smart, you’ll learn to manipulate their weakness to your advantage.”

Marie dismissed the comment, having no idea what she meant, but later that evening prior to her first appointment, she spent some private time enjoying a relaxing hot bath when Joey entered the bathroom and handed her a razor.

“What’s this for?” she asked him in an abrupt voice. The anger she still felt after confronting him earlier about going on the game left her little choice but to accept her fate after Joey flew into a rage and put a fist through the kitchen wall.

“To shave off your pubic hair. I’ve lined up some clients who know you’re fresh and are willing to pay top dollar for being your first. Remember to tell them you’re eighteen as some guys don’t like the thought of fucking a minor, unless that’s their thing. If that’s the case, then subtract two years from your age.”

“What would they say if they knew I was still several months off from turning fifteen?”

Joey leaned over the edge of the bathtub, mere inches away from her face so she could see the whites of his eyes. “Like earlier, I’m going to let that one slide too, because I don’t want to send you out on your first night with a bruised face. From now on, I make all your decisions without any questioning from you. Got it?” When she failed to answer him straight away, he reached for the back of her head and pushed her face forward into the water, using all his weight to prevent her from resurfacing. When he felt the lesson had been learnt, he pulled her up again.

Marie coughed and spluttered, gasping for each breath. It was the first time the man had hurt her, and she realised she hadn’t felt real fear since living with her stepdad. Marie swallowed hard and nodded. “Anything you say, Joey.”

“Now, hand it over.”

Marie continued to cough, looking up at him quizzically, having no idea what he was referring to.

Joey dunked her under once more, leaving her there longer this time. Marie’s hands flailed about in vain, hoping to push him away from her. Eventually, Joey pulled her up by the hair. “That old tart, Stella. What shit did she give you? Pills? Powder?”

“It’s in my handbag!” Marie coughed up the water from her lungs, as she tried desperately to inhale fresh air. “Please, Joey, you’re scaring me!”

“I’m not having you drug-fucked on the first night of the job. There’s too much money at stake.” Joey released the tight grip on her hair. “And if you ever do a runner on me, I will hunt you down and belt you to within an inch of your life.”

That day she swore she would never take another bath. Joey’s threatening words continued to haunt her as she struggled to hold back tears, trying on the sparkly silver dress he had left her on the bed. It screamed cheap and easy access, with a low neckline to allow ample cleavage showing – not that she had much. Joey also shoved a box of condoms in her handbag with explicit instructions that no man was allowed to enter her without one or it would be her who would be punished. If the client came twice, she was to let Joey know and he would chase the extra money off them before they were allowed to leave.

That night was the longest of her short life. Four men from diverse levels of society, each believing they were her first, paid a grand each to grunt and groan and sweat all over her as they shot their loads. Not once did she come for any of them, yet they expected her to stroke their egos and praise their masculinity.

How about asking how I feel?

Now Marie was a working girl, it was time to pay back all the money Joey had invested in her from the moment he bought her that first meal, to the box of condoms. Aroused by all the money and tips she had made for him on her first night, Joey took her twice before finally allowing her to sleep.

For the following month, Joey continued to market her as a first timer until she became a familiar sight hanging around The Cross. Then he took to beating her, no longer caring if her face was black and blue, or if she wanted to swallow a whole goddamn bottle of pills to forget her miserable life.

Not that she had any money to buy drugs as he kept all her earnings.

THE ESCAPE

Marie sat on the edge of the toilet seat, holding the stick up between her thumb and index finger. The two thin red lines were crystal clear:

Pregnant.

Like the last two, Joey would never approve and force her to have another abortion. Maybe if he wore a condom, then she wouldn’t be in this predicament, and the irony that he demanded her clients wear rubbers for this very reason, was not lost on her. The only thing he did do, was keep pregnancy kits readily on hand (taken out of her earnings) which she used every couple of months and had to show him the results.

Not this time. I’m keeping this one.

She did the maths in her head, noting she would be seventeen when the baby was born. Perhaps a little girl, and unlike her own loser mother, she would always be there to protect and to love her. There was just one major hurdle between her becoming a mum.

Joey.

The bastard who took advantage of a homeless underaged kid, only to then pimp his girlfriend to line his own pockets in hard cash. The rumour doing the rounds amongst the older girls was he had recently been seen with another fresh-faced kid and Marie would soon be tossed aside, having to fend for herself like the rest of the pros. Two fucking years wasted with that cunt and unable to keep any of her earnings, helped make up her mind. Just like that time she walked out of her stepfather’s life, it was time to move on again, but this time the stakes were high. No one leaves the game, especially his girlfriend. Joey would make good on his promise and come looking for her and God knows what he would do to her once he discovered she was carrying his baby.

Right now, Joey was out watching over one of his girls who had threatened to leave. He’d given her a reminder beforehand, then told her to cover the evidence with makeup as no one likes a slut who looks like they’ve done three rounds in a boxing ring. As a result, he would be spending the entire night watching over her to ensure she spent more time on her back than standing on street corners, for wasting his valuable time.

I either leave now, or it’s a third trip to the abortion clinic.

Marie flushed the toilet and turned to the full-length mirror, standing sideways. The bruise on her jaw—Joey’s latest punishment for missing her quota—had faded to a sickly yellow. She stuffed a towel under her jumper, pressing her hands to the makeshift bump, trying to picture herself heavily pregnant. She remembered overhearing one of the girls saying, “When you’re preggers, your boobs grow bigger.” Marie glanced at her chest, almost smiling at the thought. Maybe, she mused, being a mum would finally let her become someone new. Someone who could love and be loved.

“I promise I’ll never let Joey hurt you.”

The last thing she did before she climbed out the window that night was to raid Joey’s hidden haul of cash. When you run an illegal operation where the clients pay in cash, there’s no paper trail, making it difficult to deposit that money into a bank account without the taxation department snooping their fat noses into your business.

Marie heaved the dresser aside, muscles straining with the effort, and pried up two loose floorboards. Hands shaking, she unearthed the battered box hidden beneath. Nearly three hundred thousand dollars in bundles of fifties and hundreds gleamed up at her, and she wondered how much of it was rightfully hers. For a heartbeat, she hesitated, considered leaving him half. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came, knowing no matter how much she left, if he ever found her, the outcome would be the same.

So, she took the whole damn lot.

You know that sexy teal number Joey gave her for her fourteenth birthday? She finally did grow into it, but now she dropped the garment into the empty box as her way of telling Joey they were done.

THE PHOENIX

The sun had yet to rise over Sydney, as Marie walked briskly through the quiet streets toward Central Station carrying only a small backpack stuffed with cash. No toothbrush, no change of underwear, nothing to remind her of the life she was leaving behind. Starting over meant erasing every trace of her past, and what better way than to vanish into a new city?

At the station, the electronic display board flickered to life, announcing the first interstate trains of the morning. One would depart for Brisbane in a few hours’ time, promising warmth and sunlight. The other, leaving in thirty minutes, would carry her south to Melbourne’s colder climate. Marie hesitated, her breath fogging in the chilly air, but the thought of Joey returning soon spurred her into action. She chose Melbourne, reasoning that distance and anonymity were her only allies now.

Marie settled by the window, her gaze drifting over the bustling platforms awash with the early morning commuters and wondered about the lives of the strangers below. Did they return each night to warmth and safety, to families who loved them? Or were some, like her, running from a past they could never quite escape?

As the train pulled away from the Emerald City, the gentle rocking soothed her nerves, but her resolve hardened. With each passing minute, she shed the skin of the young girl who had trusted too easily and who had let others strip away her dignity. That Marie was gone—left behind in the city that had betrayed and broken her. In this new city, where no one knew her name, she would become someone else: ruthless, unbreakable, determined to rise above it all. People would either respect her or fear her—and anyone who did neither would regret it. If Joey ever came after her, she vowed she would bring him down too.

THE STRANGER

After several hours on the train, Marie cursed herself for not choosing to fly—surely the plane would have been faster and far more comfortable. Even the simple act of using the train’s cramped toilet felt like an ordeal, yet had she taken the plane, her life would have turned out differently.

“Are we there?” Marie wiped the sleep from her eyes, after being jolted awake by a swift elbow to her shoulder from the person sitting next to her.

“Not yet, but you look like you could use some food.”

Marie gave a loud yawn, stretching her back, grateful for the salad sandwich and bottled water the stranger handed her. “What time is it?”

“Still two hours until we arrive.”

Marie glanced at the older woman beside her. Greasy, shoulder-length hair framed a face set in a perpetual scowl, the kind that suggested she’d spent years fighting battles no one else could see. Dark circles pooled beneath her eyes—evidence of sleepless nights that, Marie suspected, were more routine than rare. There was a hardness to her, a wary edge, as if she expected trouble at any moment and was ready to meet it head-on.

“I can tell from your accent you’re not from around here.”

“No, I am Serbian. I am named Zara, but you call me Drago.”

“Did your parents not like you?” Marie gave a snort, but Drago did not seem overly impressed. “Sorry, it was a bad joke. Were you holidaying in Sydney or moving to Melbourne?”

“I live in Melbourne, but I have a cousin in Sydney. Judging by your look, I’d say you’re running away from home. See? I make bad jokes too.”

“But that’s exactly what we’re doing,” Marie said as she rubbed her stomach. This moment was exactly the opportunity Marie had been waiting for. If she played her cards right, she could win the woman's sympathy and make her the first to fall prey to this newly hardened version of Marie Winter.

“A child giving birth to a child. Your man beat you, yes?”

“Joey?” Marie nodded. “I’ll never allow another man to hurt me again.” It would be the only time Marie admitted the truth about her child’s father. To everyone else, she would spin a gentler story; insisting the unnamed man was a good dad, painting a picture she wished were real. Perhaps, deep down, Marie longed for that kind of love and stability more than she cared to admit.

“Good. All men are bastards.”

It was time to play the helpless Marie card. By the time the train pulled into Southern Cross station, she had woven her story so convincingly that Drago, moved by pity, invited her to stay at her house in St Kilda. Marie accepted without hesitation, sensing an opportunity to better her life. What began as a gesture of compassion soon evolved into a one-sided love affair which would test the limits of Drago’s loyalty for the next twenty-five years, right up until her own violent end at the hands of Rita Connors.

THE NEW HOME

Drago pushed open the front door to her semi-detached house, stepping into a narrow hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. All the windows lined the right-hand walls in each room, but their meagre light barely pierced the gloom, leaving the whole place in a shadow. At the far end, the kitchen huddled in the back, and beyond that, the outside toilet near the rear exit door. Marie suspected it would present a nightly ordeal in winter, braving the icy air, making it feel like a daring expedition to the South Pole.

“At least it’s fully air conditioned,” she quipped as she opened the door to the outhouse. Weeds had crept up through the cracks in the concrete, and a dirty big huntsman spider with the leg span of Marie’s hand had made the toilet its home.

“The whole place is in desperate need of renovations, but the owner is too tight to fork out the cash,” Drago explained. “They are only too happy to up the rent every twelve months in an area which houses many undesirables.”

Marie didn’t care about the neighbourhood’s reputation. All that mattered was that it offered safety for her and her unborn child. St Kilda, at the time, was a patchwork of punks, musos, artists, streetwalkers, dealers, and junkies—a chaotic blend that reminded her of Kings Cross in Sydney. But change was in the air. The local council had begun a major clean-up, hoping to lure young professionals with money into buying up and renovating the old real estate. Fitzroy Street, once infamous as the heart of the red-light district, was transforming. A new, unmarked police station above the shops kept a watchful eye, pushing much of the illicit activity further down to nearby Grey Street, which had its own notorious reputation. For Marie, though, the shifting landscape meant little; she was simply grateful for a roof over her head and a chance to start again.

While Kings Cross pulsed with sleazy nightclubs, strip joints, and the glare of neon lights, St Kilda offered a view of the muddy-coloured waters of Port Phillip Bay, stretching out beneath pale morning skies. It lacked the iconic glamour of Sydney’s Bondi Beach, where golden sands and scenic cliffs defined the shoreline, but for Marie, the simple pleasure of walking to the beach and feeling the sand beneath her feet was enough. Each morning stroll became a small act of renewal, the gentle breeze and distant sound of waves reminding her that she had left behind the chaos for something more hopeful.

It also gave her the opportunity to see firsthand the action of Grey Street on any given night.

Different cities, same shit.

Drago, who had been living in the area for five years and working as a bartender at the gay-friendly Prince of Wales Hotel, proved to be a fountain of knowledge of the major players in town.

“The bikers and mafia are big in this city,” Drago said as they watched a young man approach a known prostitute from across the local café where they were eating dinner. “The two main biker clubs you need to watch out for, are The Conquerors and The Butchers, who are constantly at war with each other. I have friends in The Butchers, so if you ever need any dirty work done, let me know.”

“Very handy. And the mafia?”

“I don’t have anything to do with them They tend to associate with the nightclubs and tattoo parlours but steer clear from brothels. Even so, my advice would be to stay on their good side.”

“The mafia run The Cross up in Sydney, too.”

“Different state, different mob.”

“Yes, I know. Anyone I should watch out for in particular?”

“Vinnie Holt. A cold, ruthless bastard, he’s considered the kingpin, but I hear it’s his wife, Jacqueline, who keeps his balls locked away in a box. She’s the one to watch.”

Marie smiled at the crude description. “I’ve heard of him.”

Occasionally, the interstate rivalry would flare up between Sydney and Melbourne, resulting in a bloodied gangland war with a high body count. Things would then settle down for another couple of years.

“Joey once boasted he knew Vinnie Holt personally, saying he was a gutless old nutsack. Of course, Joey is full of shit who likes to throw names around to make himself look important.”

“Yes, but Vinnie is a smart and cunning man. The story doing the rounds is police have never been able to pin him for the numerous unexplained deaths in the last ten years.”

“He’s a cleanskin?”

“No, he did six months for something trivial. I need to dig a little deeper for the reason.”

Marie placed her hand over Drago’s, giving it a gentle stroke with her thumb, knowing that small gesture would mean the world to her. “Excellent, Drago. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

THE SLAYING

The first Marie heard of Joey’s murder was when Drago handed her that morning’s newspaper.

MAN FOUND BRUTALLY MURDERED

Marie skipped over the intro, straight to the gory details.

Police believe the murder was a payback organised by the mafia, as the man’s decapitated head was wrapped in a teal-coloured negligée and placed inside a sack, dumped outside a post office in Carlton with a note reading, ‘Return to Sydney’. The man in his mid to late thirties, has been identified as Joseph Barrini, of Kings Cross in Sydney. The rest of the body has yet to be found. Police are treating the murder as suspicious.

“Suspicious?” That last line made Marie giggle. “Gee, you think?”

The news report only scratched the surface. Drago, ever eager to impress Marie, had already dug deeper. Drago might not turn heads in a crowd, but her instincts were razor-sharp and could sniff out a lie before it left your lips. Through her digging, they learned Joey was once a Melbourne local who had vanished to Sydney after ratting out Vinnie Holt. The crime was petty, but it costed Vinnie six months in the slammer. Word spread fast that Vinnie was offering a cool quarter million to anyone who brought him Joey’s head, should he ever return. No one could guess why Joey would risk it, except Marie and Drago.

“Looks like I was wrong. For once, Joey wasn’t lying and if I had known, I would have tipped Vinnie off ages ago and claimed the bounty for myself.” A satisfying smile spread across Marie’s face. “I need you to do something for me, Drago.”

“Anything.”

“Organise a bottle of top shelf whiskey to be sent to Vinnie, thanking him for sending the trash back to Sydney.” Marie rubbed her expanding belly, hoping to calm the baby who was kicking her insides like it was playing football. “Anonymous, of course.”

“Then what?”

“Then we start to build an empire.” At just seventeen, Marie wasn’t even old enough to legally drink alcohol or drive a car, yet with Joey no longer posing a threat, it was time to carve out a life for herself. “A wise old pro told me that once I open my legs, I won’t know how to do anything else and if I was smart, I would learn how to exploit a man’s weakness. Now, I will take what I’ve learned and put it to good use.”

“You’re going back on the game?” Drago sounded a little disappointed. The thought of any man touching Marie repulsed her.

“No money to be made on that side of the fence, Drago. It’s time everyone else lines my pockets and by the time I’m thirty, I’m going to own half the brothels and strip clubs in this city.”

THE BIRTH

Marie sat up in the hospital bed, her arms instinctively reaching as the nurse placed the newborn in her embrace. For months, she had imagined a daughter—someone to love and protect in all the ways she’d once wished for herself. But as she gazed down at the tiny boy with his mop of fine blonde hair, a wave of fierce love washed over her. He was hers, and that was all that mattered.

She traced his delicate features, searching for traces of herself and silently hoping he would inherit nothing from the man whose shadow had haunted her life for the last few years. The knowledge that his father—abusive, dangerous, and now gone for good—could never touch her son brought a sense of peace. Here, in this quiet moment, Marie allowed herself to believe that the future might finally be bright.

Drago sat next to the bed, leaning over to inspect the child; hesitant to touch him. “What are you going to call him?”

“Danny. He’s my gift to the world, Drago. My legacy who will one day carry on the Winter name and if anyone tries to hurt him, I promise they will pay a hefty price.”

“He looks like a wrinkly old man,” Drago said as she finally relented and held out a finger, allowing Danny to wrap his entire hand around it. Babies always made her nervous as they appeared so delicate, so helpless. So… useless.

Marie knew how to play on Drago’s fears. “He’ll need a good influence in his life who can show him how to protect himself and not have people walk all over him.” Marie had every intention of taking on the role herself, but sometimes she needed to toss the dog a bone to make her feel useful and loved. She held Drago’s hand in her own, bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. “Please, darling, help me to protect him. He’s now our number one priority.”

Drago liked the usage of those words. The need to feel wanted, and hopefully loved by Marie, appealed to her. “You know I would do anything for you, Marie. I promise I will protect you both.”

THE TRANSFORMATION

After the baby was born, Marie completed her high school education as a mature aged student, then enrolled in several courses specialising in all aspects of running a business.

“If I’m to be taken seriously, then I need a good business mind to run a network of legally run brothels,” she told Drago as she piled the required textbooks on the kitchen table in preparation for another late night of studying. “None of this street walker bullshit, hoping the cops won’t pick up one of the working girls, effectively putting them out of action for a couple of months as they do a stint on the inside.”

“And Danny? Who’s going to look after him?”

“How would you feel about giving up your job? I have enough money stored away to support us both.”

Drago wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea at first, but her resolve faded when Marie slipped between her sheets that night. It was their first time sharing such intimacy, but by morning, Marie had already returned to her own room, a silent signal that her priorities lay elsewhere. Drago understood the unspoken boundaries and if the arrangement suited her, then Marie would allow it to continue. Love, Drago realised, could cloud judgment. Still, she accepted her new role as Danny’s caretaker, holding onto the faint hope that, one day, Marie’s heart might finally be within her reach.

On her twenty-second birthday, Marie left Danny in Drago’s care and strode into a high-end boutique at the elegant end of Collins Street. She spent three thousand dollars without hesitation, selecting a designer leather coat, tailored pants, and stilettos to match. Afterwards, she treated herself to a session at a glitzy hair salon, where stylists transformed her hair and makeup until her reflection radiated confidence and allure.

To cap off the day, Marie booked a lavish suite at the newly opened Crown Casino. That evening, she entered The Mahogany Room—a sanctuary for high rollers, where the minimum bet was five hundred dollars. Moving through the room with practiced poise, she observed the hopeful faces of gamblers, distinguishing the rare winners from the many who left with empty pockets. The thrill of risk electrified the air, and Marie felt entirely in her element.

“It’s a mugs game.” Drago told her early that morning. “The House always wins.”

Not this time.

She took the plunge and placed all her chips – the equivalent of one hundred thousand dollars – on the red in one game of roulette.

And won.

Red has always been my favourite colour.

Joey used to tell her people would grovel at your feet if they thought you were loaded. Image was everything, and never let on the truth, even if you’re down to your last twenty bucks in your coat pocket.

Guess what? The bastard was right.

The bank manager nearly fell over himself when she presented herself for a pre-arranged appointment the following week and handed him a cheque from Crown Casino for a million dollars, requesting to open three accounts: one for Winter Enterprises, a personal account, and a joint account for her son. Since the cheque originated from the casino, there was no suspicion of money laundering. Although the original $100,000 was obtained through illegal prostitution in Sydney, none of the serial numbers matched those reported stolen in any bank robberies.

“What type of business are you intending on opening?” The bank manager asked as he handed her the relevant paperwork.

“A brothel.” Marie smiled at his reaction, looking like he had just choked on a small fishbone. “Just the one to start with, but if you play your cards right, there will be a lot of money coming in, once I expand my operations. As my bank manager, I’ll give you exclusive rates.”

You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.

By the time she walked out of the bank and into the cool autumn air, only Marie knew that Melbourne was about to be hit by a Winter storm which no weather bureau could possibly predict.

THE MADAM

The money Marie won was enough to buy and renovate a rundown double-storey house off Grey Street, which she had admired since moving to Melbourne. This would be the first of many legal brothels purchased across the inner suburbs aimed solely at the upper class of society, offering complete discretion. The working girls were treated well, and in return showed loyalty to their new Madam, who, by the time she was thirty, kept her word and controlled half of the brothels and strip clubs across Melbourne.

“Focus on those who can afford it,” Marie would often tell Drago. “There’s plenty of other options for everyone else. We’ll offer a discreet service, aimed at the rich, the celebrities, politicians, police commissioners, CEO’s, certain bank managers… hell, even the cheaters who have a wife and three young children waiting for them to return home from work each night.”

If they paid their money upfront, she’d gladly offer them a room by the hour. All the while Marie was pocketing something far more valuable than money: creating a dirt file on each client so big, she could easily blackmail or ruin their lives, should the need arise. The sort of files which couldn’t be bought with money. In her experience, if people believe they are being treated well, they’re easier to manipulate.

Knowledge is power.

Word spread quickly, and soon the clientele came knocking. Even old Vinnie Holt became a regular for a time, visiting not long after his wife landed a fourteen-year sentence in Wentworth for murder. That ended abruptly when he ran off with one of Marie’s girls. Marie caught a glimpse of him on the news, arm-in-arm with the blonde half his age. The sight made her jaw clench—she couldn’t help but wonder what Jacqueline would do when she found out.

Still, Marie knew better than to interfere. Sometimes, letting things slide was the price of keeping the mafia off your back. She suspected the Holt empire was teetering, and their money and power were slipping away. As for her girl, Marie had no doubt she’d come crawling back, desperate for her old job. But this time, Marie would have only one answer: a firm no.

There are no second chances once you’ve revealed your disloyalty to me.

One client which piqued her interest was Derek Channing, the general manager of a women’s prison. He also turned out to be one of her best customers. ‘Mr. Golden Showers’ as he was commonly known amongst the girls, was not only a cheater, but the slimy piece of shit had entered the industry as a co-owner running several illegal brothels, hidden behind a false identity. Yet he continued to frequent one of her establishments, The Velvet Curtain, unaware of the footage being gathered of him in compromising positions, satisfying his perverted sexual kinks.

Ha! You think I’m too stupid to discover your dirty little secrets? I have an extensive collection of photos which will fall into your wife’s hands or the Department of Corrections, should you attempt to set up shop on my turf.

Fuck with me, and I’ll fuck you back twice as hard but for now, I’ll gladly take your money.

THE BROKEN PROMISE

“Mum! Mum! Catch!” Danny threw the basketball at her as she busied herself replying to an important email. Marie never saw it coming as it broke the vase, sending flowers to the floor and water over the keyboard and desk.

“Goddamn it, Danny! How many times have I told you when the door is closed to my home office, I’m working! Now look at the mess you’ve made!”

“The door is always closed.” Danny’s lower lip quivered. “You promised you’d play basketball with me. You promised!”

“I don’t care what I said. I’m busy!”

“I hate you!” Danny yelled at her.

Drago appeared at the door and sidestepped Danny as he ran past her. “What’s he done now?”

Marie grabbed a heap of tissues, wiping the excess water from the desk, muttering obscenities under her breath. It wasn’t the first time he told her he hated her, but it still stung. “That kid is out of control!”

“He’s nine years old, Marie. All he wants is for you to pay him some attention.”

“Attention? I give that kid everything he could possible want! The best private school, the best tutors…” Marie held the keyboard upside down to drain the water out, knowing it was probably ruined. “Can’t he see I’m doing this all for him? One day he will take over the reins, and he needs to be ready!”

“Yes, but until that time, he just wants your love. That’s something you’ll never be able to buy him.”

“Don’t try to guilt me, Drago. I haven’t the time.”

“Personally, I think you work too hard. I will check in on Danny and make sure he doesn’t disturb you until dinner time.” Drago backed out and closed the double doors behind her.

Marie plonked herself in the leather office chair, swivelling it around to face the large bay windows which overlooked the beach, wondering if it was all worth it. She thought being successful would mean having more time on her hands to tend to Danny, but she was wrong. Most days Drago played the role of mother to Danny better than she could, and yet Drago didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.

What type of mother does that make me?

She poured herself a straight scotch from the crystal decanter and downed it in one go. Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow, I’ll spend time with my boy.

But deep down she knew that promise would be broken, just like today and yesterday.

THE LOST GIRL

She was young and beautiful.

Highly impressionable… vulnerable.

Innocent, yet so broken.

Marie wondered if such vulnerability was possible—until she remembered how she must have looked to Joey when they first met, what felt like a lifetime ago. Over the past eighteen months, Marie had spotted the girl several times. Each attempt to approach her ended the same way with the girl fleeing at the first sign of contact. Marie suspected her own polished appearance might have made her seem like an authority figure—maybe even a government official—someone the girl instinctively avoided. But today was different. The girl, with her knotted blonde hair and worn clothes, seemed too weary to care about being discovered.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Marie crouched down and handed her a takeaway container, which she snatched and hungrily devoured the quarter chicken and chips. “I’m Marie. What’s your name?”

“I know who you are. You’re that famous madam.” The kid stuffed another handful of chips in her mouth, giving her the hiccups from eating too fast.

“The streets are not safe for a young lass like you.”

“I’m eighteen and can look after myself.”

Too old to be picked up by government officials yet lacked the experience to avoid being taken advantage by others.

“The longer you hang around this area, you’ll attract the weirdos. Is that what you want?”

“What do you suggest? That I work for you? You’ll probably wind up using me like everyone else.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not here to recruit you. Just checking in to see you’re okay.” Marie got to her feet. “Perhaps I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Wait! It’s… it’s Allie,” she called out. “My name is Allie Novak.”

THE LOVER

Danny finally had a basketball partner, even if it wasn’t his mother. That was fine with him; Allie was much younger than the few partners Marie had brought home before, and her energy made things feel different. Most of Marie’s relationships were brief, serving mainly to keep loneliness at bay. They always ended badly, often because Marie was too focused on building her empire and reminding Danny that he was expected to take over one day.

Right now, Danny couldn’t give a damn about the business. What mattered was having someone who understood him. He liked Allie so much that he’d let her win their last basketball game, just for the chance to give her a congratulatory hug. If only he could manage the confusing feelings that come with adolescence, life would be much simpler.

Marie watched on from the sidelines in a rare moment away from the pressures of work, smiling to herself as the two people she loved, had bonded like they were brother and sister. Allie had turned tricks for Marie for the last year, but their boss-employee status had jumped to that of lovers, with Marie insisting Allie give up the game. Unlike Joey, she wasn’t about to share her with anyone else. She had been nervous about bringing Allie home to stay, even so far as to ask Drago to move out, feeling it was best that Allie never knew about their association. The less people knew of Drago’s existence, the better. And besides, Drago’s jealousy irritated her at times.

Sometimes as Marie lay awake in bed at night with Allie curled up beside her, she loved listening to Allie’s enthusiastic stories about Danny, discovering new things about him which even Drago didn’t know.

“He loves you,” Allie said to her one night. “But he’s not sure how you feel about him.”

“What? That’s absurd! Danny knows I love him.”

“Have you told him that?”

“What do you think I’m doing every day? I do all this for him. If that’s not love, then I don’t know what love is.”

She never answered the question, and Allie lacked life experience to question her further, given she was young and still working out who she was and where her place was in life. Marie, on the other hand, was already a success. One could be forgiven for thinking they were more like mother and daughter, rather than lovers.

THE RED RIGHT HAND

Drago knocked on the door to Marie’s work office to announce her presence. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Marie carefully placed the small mirror with the remaining line of coke in the bottom drawer of her desk, along with a thick wad of cash from the previous day’s takings. “I’ve no appointments scheduled this morning.”

“They are quite insistent and…”

“I’ll take it from here. Thanks, Lurch.” A short woman not much taller than Marie ducked under Drago’s arm and barged into the room.

Drago quickly reached out and snatched the woman by her long blonde ponytail, dragging her back towards her; the menacing look upon Drago’s face as she scrunched the front of the woman’s shirt, with her fist raised, ready to defend Marie at any cost.

“What are you? Her fucking pitbull?” The tiny woman refused to be intimidated by the bodyguard who towered over her. “Back the fuck up, or I’ll punch you in the dick!”

Marie crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, entertained at the scenario unfolding before her. “Leave us, Drago.”

Drago took one last look at the woman and sneered, releasing her tight grip. “I’ll be right outside the door should you need me, Marie.”

The woman marched up to the desk with her hand outstretched. “My name is…”

“Karen. Karen Proctor.” Marie had no intention of rising from her chair to shake this stranger’s hand. “You run a vigilante group called The Red Right Hand, whose mission is to save every woman from all the male arseholes of this world.”

“It’s Kaz,” she replied, mildly impressed. “You know your stuff.”

“I make it my business to know what’s happening in my city, Karen. Please, sit down.”

Kaz sat in the comfy red leather chair. “Rather than waste your time with any unnecessary small talk, I’ll get straight to the point.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“The women you employ… those who provide a service to men…”

“You mean prostitutes. You can say the word out loud, Karen. I run a legal operation with nothing to hide.”

“Just because it’s legal, doesn’t make it right. How many of these girls are willing participants?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I treat all my girls well, paying them above the award wages, with excellent working conditions and a safe environment.”

“Like that young kid who recently had her face slashed with glass?”

Marie took a moment to recall the name of the girl in question. “Cherry Li? That was most unfortunate, but it wouldn’t have happened had she not stolen her client’s wallet. Did she tell you I covered her medical bills?”

“How very generous of you. Is that why you fired her?”

“I won’t tolerate thievery from any of my employees. It reflects badly on the company as a whole.”

“Here I was thinking it was because of her visible facial scars. Tell me, is getting them hooked on gear one of the perks of the job? Because the incident may not have occurred had she not been drug-fucked to begin with.”

Marie made a mental note to keep a sharper eye on this one. “I refuse to be held responsible for what my girls do in their own time, nor if they can’t handle their shit. If they don’t like it, then no one is forcing them to stick around.”

“Maybe they do so because they have no alternative.”

“Incorrect. The alternative is to illegally walk the streets, risk being picked up by the police, or worse—some psychopath who believes it’s okay to rape a woman because in their twisted and fucked up little mind, those women were asking for it.”

“Nice speech.” Kaz slow-clapped her every word. “Was that preprepared to help ease your conscience?”

“No, I’m talking from personal experience.” Marie noted the slight flinch in Kaz’ face. Not many people in Melbourne knew of her time on the game in Sydney. “To be honest, I probably could have done with someone like you when I was fourteen and having the shit kicked out of me on a nightly basis by my pimp disguised as my boyfriend.” She paused to let that sink in, before continuing. “I do admire your passion, even if it is misguided.”

“Really? Please, enlighten me.”

“Not all women want to be saved, Karen, just as not all men are bastards. In time, you will learn this.”

“Then in the meantime, you won’t have any objections to me popping downstairs and asking your girls if I can help them break free from this vicious cycle. Give them hope for a better future. Maybe one day, they too can afford to own a luxurious double-storey mansion in an affluent suburb like Brighton with a white Lamborghini parked out front.”

The dig was personal and Marie couldn’t help but give a hearty laugh at the audacity of this woman who had done some snooping of her own and found Marie’s personal home address.

Fool.

“Actually, I do mind. Did you really believe you could waltz into my business and ask me to cease my operations? That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“I was hoping if I said please and thank you, that you may consider it,” Kaz said, tongue in cheek as she prepared herself to leave. “No doubt our paths will cross again.”

“I look forward to it. Oh, and Karen? Just so we’re clear, if you corrupt any of my girls with your lies, I will fucking bury you.”

Kaz gave a small chuckle, and leaned over the desk, staring Marie straight in the eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

THE SPLIT

Two weeks later, Allie left her. That bitch, Kaz, had got inside her head telling her that Marie was toxic for introducing Allie onto smack and Kaz would be her saviour and help clean her up.

“That’s not love, that’s betrayal!” Kaz’s words were coming out of Allie’s mouth and were like a punch in the face.

“Are they your words, or Kaz’s?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does. Where the fuck was she when I took you in and gave you a home? Made sure you stayed off the game? You chose to take that shit and let it destroy you. Never inject! That’s what I’ve always told you. And now you’re blaming me because you have no self-control!”

Allie shook her head in disbelief, stuffing the last of her clothes into a suitcase. “Yeah, I guess I’m not perfect like you. But then, I’m not a control freak either.”

Marie relented and begged her not to leave. Tried the old Danny loves you. She nearly had her too, given the woman was a genius at getting into her head and preying on her vulnerabilities. That is until she said those four words, I love you too.

“Really? You’re incapable of love. You’re too blind to see how cold and heartless you’ve become, even to your own son! One day, he’ll be a man and you will have missed out on sharing his childhood. So, pardon me if I don’t believe you love me.”

Allie picked up her suitcase and walked out of her life for good, taking a piece of Marie’s heart.

“Fuck you, Allie!” she yelled as Allie slammed the front door behind her. “I don’t need you! You can fucking rot with Kaz!”

But she did need her.

Marie had always believed you couldn’t suffer a broken heart if you were incapable of love. Yet, as Danny refused to speak to her for weeks, an aching loneliness settled in—a void that neither money nor power could fill. By the end of that day, desperate for relief, she asked Drago to move back in. It wasn’t love she sought, but the fleeting comfort of another’s presence, a temporary escape from the emptiness.

THE COVER UP

When Danny turned eighteen in his final year of high school, he distanced himself from his mother, no longer craving her attention, but instead seeking it from the one night stands he would purposely bring home most nights just to upset her.

She never let on. Refused to let him see her disapproval of his lack of ambition, reasoning in her mind that being a teenager meant pushing boundaries. Except one night he pushed it too far, taking advantage of a girl in his class who had a crush on him. Her screams from his bedroom brought both Marie and Drago running, intervening just in time. But seeing the girl pinned down by Danny on his bed, threw Marie back to when her stepfather first raped her. Drago pulled Danny off the girl as Marie stood there frozen, in a daze, and it was only when Drago shook her, did she come back to the present.

“Did you hear what I said?” Drago shook her again. “I’ll take the girl home and while I’m gone, you need to sort out your son.”

Marie nodded, as Drago left with the girl, but seeing Danny wipe the smeared lipstick from his face with the back of his hand, and a spiteful glint in his eyes which showed no remorse, brought her to tears.

“Really mother? You’re trying crocodile tears on me now? You must be desperate.”

“Danny… please!”

“No! You don’t get to lecture me! Not after all the shit I’ve seen you do over the years!”

“I did it all for you!” She grabbed him forcefully by the wrist to stop him leaving. If the tears didn’t work, then it was time for some brutal love. “You need to grow the fuck up! If you want to take over the business one day, then pull your bloody head in!”

“No, that’s your dream, mother.” Danny pulled his arm away. “Not mine.”

“Since when?”

“I keep telling you, but you won’t listen! Stop trying to mould me into a version of yourself!” he yelled back in frustration. “I hate this empire you’ve built because it stole my mother away from me and if my father were still alive, I would gladly move in with him just to get away from you!”

That last comment hit Marie hard. Whoever says words can only hurt if you let them, has never been a parent.

Danny grabbed his coat and disappeared into the night air. It was another four days before he came home drug-fucked, after Marie put a hold on his bank account (which was still in both their names) and enlisted Drago’s goons to search his usual haunts until they located him. Everyone has a price, so Marie paid the girl’s parents off, in exchange for their silence and Danny was transferred in the middle of doing his VCE to another exclusive private school on the other side of Melbourne where no one knew the Winter name. Even then the school only accepted him because his mother offered a sizable donation towards building their new science department.

Money talks. Every single time.

Despite the near miss, she refused to see the signs of a young man heading down a dangerous path of wild parties and excessive drinking and drugs, which continued until his death just six years later.

THE KILL SWITCH

It was the worst day of Marie’s life.

The phone rang in the dead of night. Drago answered, her voice tense, and the news hit Marie like a physical blow: Danny was in the hospital on life support, the victim of a king hit. Shock numbed her limbs as she struggled to process Drago’s words.

Without hesitation, Marie sent Drago and her crew out into the city, desperate for answers and for justice. Anything to make sense of the chaos. As they scoured the streets for leads, Marie remained at Danny’s bedside, her world narrowed to the steady beep of the monitors and the warmth of his hand in hers.

She leaned in close, her voice trembling. “The basketball team made the finals, Danny. They need their best player to bring home the trophy.” She squeezed his fingers, willing him to hear her, to fight his way back. Marie’s heart ached with helplessness. All she could do was hope and hold on.

The doctor on duty said there was nothing they could do; that Danny was brain dead and gently suggested switching the machine off, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

What was his name again? Chamberlain? Well, he can go fuck himself.

Technically, they needed her consent, and no way in hell would she sign some stupid piece of paper. A mother should never outlive her child, so when a doctor in surgical scrubs tells her it’s the only option and that he understands how she feels…

Excuse me?

The only way you could possibly understand my grief is to experience it firsthand, and I would never wish that upon anyone.

So, Marie, the queen of manipulation and blackmail; where up until this point in her life had fought all her battles with her sharp mind and words, summoned all her anger, her frustrations, and a mother’s unwavering love – and let the doctor know no one was going to take away her boy.

But in the end, Death took him anyway and she wound up in Wentworth serving time for murder when the doctor later died of a brain bleed brought on by the assault.

Fifteen fucking years!

And when Drago joined her in Wentworth after being busted by some ratfink for bringing illegal refugees into the country via a shipping container, Drago promised to locate and kill the person responsible for the king hit on Danny. But Marie wanted none of that. For the first time, she was willing to stain her hands with the blood of others.

“No,” she calmly told Drago. “I’ll do it myself.”

THE AFTERMATH

I know I should cry, but I can’t bring myself to do so. Am I so cold that I can’t take five minutes to grieve the one woman who stood by me from the moment I left Sydney? She gave me shelter and offered me comfort when I needed it most. Protected my son and I, did all the dirty work and took care of the seedier side of the business, so that I could keep my nose clean.

She was my most trusted and devoted servant.

Her one fault was she foolishly loved me. I never made any promises in return, but I did use that weakness against her, dragging her along behind me on an invisible chain. If something (or someone) needed fixing, she would do so without question. And if it meant her killing to protect me, then so be it. You can’t buy that sort of loyalty.

Together, we were invincible.

And now Rita Connors has done the near impossible and taken away my physical strength. Maybe one day I’ll take a moment and shed a tear for Drago, but not today.

I’ve just been told by Drago’s righthand man, Lukas, that I no longer have any pull and no power on the outside. That he only answers to Drago and now she’s dead. But I have one last ace up my sleeve before we part company forever. Once I let slip who killed Drago, he will seek revenge on my behalf without me even asking. In just two days, Rita’s fiancé won’t get to say those words, “I do.”

Payback’s a bitch, Rita. Let’s see how you like losing a loved one.

THE RAPIST

Danny was a lot of things, but a rapist? Not my boy! I did not raise my son that way.

But she did. She just refused to accept it. And the worst part? It had happened before.

Shit, it’s always easier to blame someone else for your own failings rather than search your own heart.

Marie clutched the last photo taken of Danny to her chest, her body wracked by sobs so fierce they left her gasping for air, teetering on the edge of hyperventilation. These were not the quiet, polite tears of obligation, but a raw, guttural grief that tore through her. The promise she’d made to Danny at his birth—to always protect him—lay shattered, meaningless now. In its place, a new purpose took root: to hunt down and destroy his killer.

“This is finished, yeah?” Rita had asked her minutes earlier.

I now know the identity of my son’s killer. What do you fucking reckon?

Rita’s parting words were a stern warning that she would do anything to protect her younger sister.

You don’t get it, do you, Rita? My boy is dead and I have nothing left to lose. Just wait until I take your sister. Then maybe I can say this is all finished.

Until then, that makes me far more dangerous adversary than you’ll ever be.

THE CHOICE

Looking back, the whole attempted escape was a stupid idea, but Marie had been desperate to get out of Wentworth, even if it meant siding with that rock spider, Michael.

I knew those files would serve a purpose one day and it’s now time to collect. My freedom in exchange for handing over all the incriminating evidence.

That he knows of.

But don’t you worry. Once I’m safe, I’ll dropkick that kiddie fiddler so deep in shit that he’ll wish he’d never been born.

Until Ruby tossed her a detour card.

“Hey, Marie! Did you forget about me?”

Once last chance to kill that cocky little bitch, who had the balls to purposely goad her, like she was begging to be knocked off.

Freedom?

Or revenge?

There was only ever one choice, and the surprised look on Ruby’s face as Marie held her with a knife from behind, made it all worthwhile.

Rita pleaded to let her sister go. The fact that Rita had saved Marie’s life when Michael had ordered that nurse to hotshot her no longer mattered.

Something about not killing Ruby? Did you really think I would uphold my end of the deal now I have Danny’s killer? Ha! Not so tough now, are you, Rita? One swift motion from ear to ear with this knife, and Danny’s death will finally be avenged.

And she would have followed through if not for the bullet she copped to the leg by the one person other than Danny, whom she loved. Marie held both hands tightly around her thigh, trying to stem the bleeding as Allie stepped forward and aimed the gun at her head.

Yeah, that’s irony for you.

THE FAILURE

When Dr Miller asked Marie why she tried to kill herself, she had been brutally honest in her reply.

“I was a failure as a mother. I failed to hold on to the woman I loved. Failed to escape this shit hole… and I failed to avenge my son’s death. So, what could be worse than that? I even failed to kill myself.”

What she had neglected to purposely mention was the final devastating words from Will Jackson, which pushed her over that edge.

“I knew you had darkness in you. I did too, when we first met. You destroy everything and everybody. Even your own son. See, I thought people were capable of redemption. I was wrong. You’re not.”

All remaining hopes she held onto were now shattered.  

And you know what? How can I blame him when every single word is true?

Marie lay back on the flat bench, her hands trembling as they gripped the bar. The metal bit into her palms, slick with sweat. She unracked the weights, lowering them to her chest—each breath a shallow gasp beneath the crushing load. Her arms quivered, muscles burning. With a final, desperate surge, she rolled the bar up her chest and onto her throat, sealing off her airflow.

I just want to be with my boy again. Maybe this time, I can be a better mother.

But fate was being a temperamental bitch to her that day, refusing to let her go, and sent Will Jackson in to play the hero.

Why can’t you let me die? Or is that too much to ask?

The last time their lips met, was during a wild session of sex on his office desk in the governor’s office. Back then he was a wounded soul, and she had taken advantage of his vulnerability. A weak and pathetic man who had no business running a prison full of women, but over time their roles reversed, and it was she who needed him. Now, like everyone else, he couldn’t stand her. Probably wanted her dead. Yet it was those same lips which brought her back to life.

You stole my one chance to see Danny again and if you think I’ll be grateful to you prolonging my life, you can go fuck yourself.

THE FORGIVEN

It was the first time Marie had seen his sweet smile in years. That beautiful face which could always melt his mother’s heart.

And break it, too.

Marie stood on the other side of the door in her cell on the psychiatric ward, with a lifetime of heartache and regrets; afraid should she blink, Danny would disappear. But he just continued to smile in return, with a genuine warmth in his eyes, showing nothing but love and kindness as the man he could have been, had she been there for him.

She gave him everything she thought he could want, but all he ever yearned for was her precious time and love.

It’s okay. I’m okay. I forgive you, Mum.

In that moment, the anger and guilt she had carried around her entire life, disappeared. Like he had released her from her heavy burden. To let it all go. The darkness which had enveloped her life was finally dissipating into light, showing her a clear path.

THE PARIAH

“You’re a fucking evil bitch!” Allie yelled, as Boomer backhanded Marie across the face several times.

Allie didn’t believe that I had anything to do with Ruby’s disappearance. And why would she? I never gave her reason to think otherwise.

“You’re a lying cunt and you’re gonna tell the truth!”

My sweet, innocent Allie, who would never intentionally hurt anyone, tied me to a chair and pushed my head back over the toilet bowl, pouring water over my face, attempting to drown me for something which I didn’t do.

And now I’m begging her not to end my life.

When I didn’t break, she held a shiv to my throat.

“You are nothing to me. I should have put a bullet in your head instead of your leg.”

For a moment, I met her gaze and saw a cold, burning hatred that made my blood run cold. In that instant, I knew she was more than capable of ending my life. One day, I’ll run out of luck. Of that, I’m certain. But if there’s any mercy left in the world, let it not be Allie who delivers the final blow. She deserves better than to carry the weight of my death, and I’m simply not worth the price of her freedom.

THE SURROGATE SON

He was never meant to replace Danny, but somehow, he became just that.

Perhaps, deep down, Marie saw caring for Reb as a way to make amends to her own son—by being the mother she wished she had been for Danny, especially since Reb’s own mother had failed him too. She cherished the nights when Reb dragged his mattress into her cell, seeking her company. It reminded her of when Danny, frightened by nightmares, would crawl into her bed as a little boy, searching for his mother’s comfort.

Except this whole joint is one long fucking nightmare!

But no matter how hard she tried, in the end she couldn’t save him. And just like Danny, she inadvertently betrayed him too, the moment she opened her mouth to Sheila Bausch.

Fuelled by revenge towards Lou for putting Allie in a wheelchair, the old manipulator remerged once more and couldn’t resist planting the idea in Sheila’s mind to permanently rid Lou. In typical Marie-style, she had refused to get her hands dirty.

“The way I see it is you only have one choice left: whether you take your own life, or hers.”

But there was another choice.

One she never considered.

By the time Marie realised her severe lack of judgement, the manipulator had been outplayed by a lunatic who held a bigger grudge than she. When Reb died, the grief hit Marie with the same force as losing her son, like she was reliving that heartbreak all over again. Only this time, she unknowingly signed a contract with Lou which would see her assist in Sheila’s death and would ultimately seal her own fate.

Lou just didn’t know it yet.

THE PROMISE

I’m now in H1, but I’ll never be a part of their family. They don’t want me and who can blame them? Everything I touch turns to shit, and despite the numerous chances I’ve been given to prove I’ve changed, I’ve betrayed them (and myself) every single time.

This is it. My very last chance and it’s a doozy. I’ve been entrusted to get the mobile back and to protect Ruby.

By Rita, of all people!

Who would have thought I’d team up with Rita? It’s almost as preposterous as forming an alliance with Kaz Proctor. Yet here we are, both as deceitful as each other, buried in our own secrets. The difference is, I showed my true colours long ago.

Her request is a big fucking call, and a promise which would be too easy to break, if it meant getting Lou off my back. Does saving my own skin make me a coward?

Some might believe Rita must be crazy to even consider asking me, given the history between us. It’s like leaving the fox in charge of the chookhouse, isn’t it? Put simply, the fact that she would trust me proves a final act of desperation by someone with little choice than to trust the fox.

It’s almost comical how life tosses you a curve ball—until you realize you’re actually holding a live grenade. Take that mobile phone, for example. The old Marie would have relished the chance to expose Rita as an undercover cop, using the revelation to claw her way back into everyone’s good books. She also would have sought revenge for Drago the moment she stepped out of the interview room. But instead, I chose to use the mobile to gather evidence, even if it meant freeing someone I once considered an enemy.

Yeah, I took a swipe at her for it. Can you blame me? That’s the remnants of the old me reminding Rita that she’s as big a monster as I am.

Only she’s not.

Rita doesn’t expect to survive, and even if she makes it into the protection unit alive and in one piece, how long will she last? There’s no safe place for a cop on the wrong side of the bars. Even the critters would take her out in the slim hope of earning themselves a redemption from the rest of the prison.

And here’s the thing… her death would be my fault.

But fortunately for Rita, I no longer derive enjoyment from other people’s misfortune.

Maybe some good can come from this. My lack of trust in the police was the reason I taped the conversation with that crooked cop, Jonesey. Now, if I can get the mobile off Lou, the recording which destroyed Rita will help clear Ruby’s name.

I don’t know how, but this time I aim to keep that promise.

THE REDEMPTION

If l were to die today, I would take a lifetime of regrets with me to the grave. Most would be either beyond my control, purposely ignored, or preventable had I intervened and actioned them sooner. Right now, they all amount to the same thing: That I must live with these regrets for however long I have left on this earth. But there is one regret which has its own category.

Allie.

The animosity between us falls squarely on me. I’m the reason she hit the hard drugs. As her partner, I failed in my duty of care to protect her, just like I did with Danny. It seems to be a recurring theme, doesn’t it?

I have a strange way of showing love, and I know she no longer feels for me like she once did. Even if by some miracle we did reconnect, her heart would always belong to a dead woman I’ll never meet. Is it wrong a part of me envies Bea Smith?

Despite this, I will never stop loving her.

I know I don’t deserve her forgiveness for all the shit I’ve put her through. I wasn’t joking when I told her I’d been wrong about so many things. Ferguson. Rita. Ruby… Danny. But I hadn’t been wrong about Allie. The young, vulnerable girl I once knew, is now the strongest woman and maybe one day, I can convince her I’m no longer that evil person. I’m just hoping I live long enough to prove it to her.

When Ruby left H1, hellbent on finding that mobile to help clear her and Rita’s names, I could have let her go knowing that Lou would finish her off and I could finally achieve justice for Danny. But his death wasn’t her fault. That’s on me and I now own it.

I once told Kath Maxwell that it doesn’t matter who you were; only who you are now. As I placed my hand on Allie’s shoulder for what ended up being a final loving gesture, no words needed to be exchanged. We both knew what I had to do.

And this time, I would do so willingly, with no regrets.

THE END

Strangely, as the kitchen knife twisted through Marie’s organs, she felt no pain, only a distant awareness of her body shutting down. Fear never came; instead, she was left with a sense of disbelief. After all the attempts on her life—by others and by her own hand—she was surprised she had survived this long. In her final moments, a small comfort remained that at least it wasn’t Allie who had brought about her end.

This is it, Marie. The end of your pathetic life and what have you got to show for it? What legacy will you leave behind for people to remember you for generations to come? Nothing. Sweet fucking nothing. My legacy died when the life support machine was switched off.

Hey, Lou… I told you recently to fight your own fight, you big dog cunt. Congratulations, you’ve finally done it. The thing is, you can kill me, but you’ll never hurt me the way I’ve spent my whole life hurting myself. Because I am beyond feeling any more pain.

With a final, trembling breath, Marie surrendered herself. The weight she had carried for so long slipped from her shoulders, and in that moment, she felt herself drifting toward the light—toward Danny. At last, she was free, ready to be the loving mother she had always yearned to be, reunited with her son for eternity.

* * *

THE LEGACY

“We’re free!” Rita high-fived her younger sister as they walked through the high security gates after being cleared of all charges. “I can’t wait to tuck into a thick and juicy steak. What’s the first thing you’re going to do, Kangaruby?”

Ruby paused at the gates of Barnhurst, their refuge for the past two weeks since the destruction of Wentworth from the bomb blast. As she glanced back, she felt a surge of gratitude—and sorrow—for the woman who had once been her enemy. Marie Winter, the very person who had wanted her dead, had ultimately saved her life. From this moment on, every choice Ruby made, every joy she found with Zaina, and every child she might one day hold, would be possible because of Marie’s selfless sacrifice. No matter the bad blood or history between them, Ruby knew she would carry the memory of Marie’s ultimate act of redemption with her always.

“Oh, you know me, Reets. I’ll probably just order a beer and raise a toast to those who didn’t make it out alive.”

Rita knew exactly whom her younger sister was referring to. “Like I said earlier, she done good in the end.”