Her mother had left things in good order for Fiona and Claudia. The house was paid for and there was some insurance money. But still, someone needed to take care of Claudia; she was still a girl.

So Fiona decided she would – temporarily – leave university, just until Claudia finished school and started university too. Then Fiona would go back and finish her own degree. For now, she needed to get a job to make sure they didn’t finish all of what their mother had so diligently worked for.

She found the job at Silas’s Petrol Station a few weeks after her mother was killed and she’d been working there ever since.

Then, when Claudia started university to become a lawyer, Fiona couldn’t see how they’d survive without her wages. She considered going to university part time and working part time, but she couldn’t quite gather the energy to get herself to the campus to see if that was an option.

Everything seemed too difficult now. It was easier just to get up, go to work, come home, and then do it all over again the next day.

Zero sometimes tried to encourage her to try harder. “You know what, since we’re both off tomorrow I could get my brother’s car and we could drive over to the university and see what you could do. I think at least you could take a class or two. Even if it takes longer, at least you’ll be moving toward something.”

When he spoke like that she’d get angry inside. What did he know about anything? How could she tell him that she hated her life, but also that she couldn’t see any way out of it? She was trapped.

She felt this weight, a weight that kept her right where she was five years ago when those police officers turned up at her house. It never shifted. Everything fell apart that day and it had never came back together. Fiona was sure her life was loosely held together with rubber bands and sticky tape; it was vulnerable to too much movement. She just needed to move slowly, and not change too much, and she’d be able to survive. That’s just how it was, and would be forever, she guessed. She didn’t see any way out. Surviving was the best that she could hope for.

Zero worked at the petrol station too; that’s where they’d met. He was an assistant manager now, and Mr Silas McDonald, the owner of Silas’ Petrol Station, liked him. Everybody did. He was hardworking and honest and always willing to help. Silas promised that as soon as Zero raised the start-up money, he would help him get a petrol station of his own, from the same franchise. That was Zero’s goal and he was nearly there. Two years, three years max, and he’d have his money sorted and be on his way.

“On our way,” Zero reminded her. “You’ll be nearly finished with your accounting course and you’ll do my books. And maybe you’ll agree to marry me then.”

Fiona never made any comment when he said that. She liked him, maybe even loved him … if she could clear the fog around her enough to feel anything. Maybe she’d marry him, she didn’t know.

She didn’t know anything except that she needed to keep moving and she needed to try and keep her mind away from the dark places it liked to go to. Keeping to the schedule, not changing, not hoping, not looking back, seemed to be the only way to keep that from happening, so Fiona stuck to that.

Her friend Alma tried to help. “Fi, don’t you think maybe you should talk to someone?”

“I’m talking to you.” She’d been telling Alma about how she wished Zero would stop pushing her to restart her accounting course.

“No, I mean a professional, Fi.”

Alma was a cop now. They’d been in secondary school together and had been friends ever since. Alma had just started at Police College when Fiona’s mother died, but she knew enough, and had the right connections to help Fiona make sure the man who killed her mother went to prison. He had been so drunk that afternoon he couldn’t walk, but thought it was fine for him to drive. A civil servant with a wife and four children – and now he was in prison. In there, serving out his ten-year sentence for killing Fiona’s amazing mother, and destroying so many people’s lives.

“I’m OK,” Fiona said.

“It’s been five years, Fiona, but you’re still getting through the loss of your mother. A therapist could help you with that. I think you’re depressed.”

“No.”

Fiona changed the topic. She didn’t need a therapist. It was not something inside her head. Look around! she wanted to shout at Alma. Her life was useless. Twenty-four, working at a petrol station. No better job prospects, no parents, just this. Anyone would feel like shit. Why shouldn’t she?

She checked the time. It was nearly 6:30. Cars heading to work were arriving to fill-up, and at least that distracted her for a while. In thirty minutes she’d be knocking off, home to her cosy bed. That was something to be happy about at least.

***

Tell us what you think: Does Fiona need professional help from a counsellor or therapist?