Fragmented: Three generations, one family secret.

Fragmented © 2024 Kelly Wilson

Text and illustrations copyright: Kelly Wilson © 2024

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means. Including electronical or mechanical, photocopying, recording, storage, in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without prior written permission form the publisher. Unless specifically permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 as amended.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in Australia

Cover and internal design by Book Burrow

www.bookburrow.com.au

First printing: November 2024

Paperback ISBN 978-0-9756-4296-2

eBook ISBN 978-0-9756-4297-9

Publisher: Wings for Grace Publications

www.wingsforgrace.com

For my beautiful mum.

One shattering moment of betrayal can turn you into a version of yourself you never thought possible.

Discovering the truth and its dangers has left me

ruminating on the question:

Who should I fear more – them, or the monster within?

Before

‘Get the hell off me!’

Handcuffs snapped tightly around my wrists, instantly constricting the blood. The sting of hot tears began releasing my toxic rage. I remained defiant. Yanked to my feet, I was dragged backwards, away from the intensity of the fire. Yet I couldn’t escape the heat within. It was near impossible to suck in a single breath; the acrid ash coating my tongue and burning my throat.

My balaclava was ripped aggressively from my head. I jammed my eyes shut, avoiding the blinding torchlight suddenly obscuring my vision. I lashed out instinctively at the bodies trapping me. Time slowed. A blackness closed in like the curtains signalling the end of a theatre performance.

I already knew my fate.

‘Young lady, I am placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say may be used in court as evidence against you. Do you understand?’

Spitting in his face my scream became primal.

‘Screw you, arsehole.’

So, it’s come to this.

Now

Squinting through the dusty window, the rocking movement of the old bus had lulled me into a light doze. For a while at least I’d had some respite from the relentless chaos in my mind.

Make it stop.

It was a prayer, a silent one, made many times before. If there was a God, he never listened to me. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for him either. My breathing was shallow. I hated it when my body reacted like this, fighting its own silent battle. The heat travelled from my feet all the way up until I was sure my head would explode. Like I was hotwired from within.

You know this feeling, Grace, it will pass.

I picked at the old red vinyl seat in front of me, absentmindedly slashing at the fabric, my markings forming a row of crosses. My knife was a constant companion these days. I was good at hiding it and loved the fact it was my secret and mine alone.

Who needed to know anyway?

Who would care?

White foam, from underneath the seats vinyl began falling to the floor, making me think of snow in Christmas movies. I’d never seen real snow, in fact, there were lots of things I hadn’t seen. Would I ever? Not where this bus was dumping me, that was for certain.

So much had happened.

Surely this could not be my life.

Could it?

As the bus rattled to a stop on the gravel road, I rubbed my stinging eyes, trying desperately to get my bearings.

Breathe, Grace.

Taking measured breaths, I willed my anxiety to calm. Slipping my knife into the side of my boot I stretched my arms above my head. I ran my fingers through my wild knotted hair, then turned down the music playing through my headphones, my disconnection and solace from this world. Once, I would have called it ‘my’ world. Now I travelled through it like an outsider. I didn’t know how to fit in anymore, couldn’t even decide if I wanted to.

Scanning my new surroundings, I crossed my arms tensely. I wanted to scream, to run. There it was. The junction on the dirt road, the red letterbox, landmarks my mother had told me to look for. My destination.

My prison.

I already despised it here; making that decision before I came. Chosen to hate it as this had been forced upon me. Against my will. Someone will pay for doing this to me. I’ll make sure.

‘Zarnish Estate’ read the sign that hung above the red letterbox. What kind of a name is that for a country farm? And where the hell is the house anyway? I searched my immediate surroundings again. Maybe that was the house in the distance, beyond the tree line. It was hard to tell with the glare of the sun. If so, it had to be the longest driveway I’d ever seen.

Looks like I’ll be walking. Perfect, just friggin’ perfect.

Gathering my bag, I inhaled deeply, forcing my exhalation to be slow. I willed my inner body, just one more time, not to betray my well-practised tough exterior. Without a word, nodding thanks to the bus driver, I stepped off into the unknown.

The old bus rattled to life again, billowing large swirls of dust as it headed off along the isolated road. I suddenly felt very insignificant and alone. The deathly silence around me was unsettling, like nothing I’d ever known.

Where was the bustle of traffic?

The shrill of sirens?

The mishmash of smells from my city home?

Where the hell am I?

Born and raised in the city, I had little knowledge of anything else. This may well have been another planet. This Australian bush was completely foreign to me. Only in books or on the Internet had I seen such a vast, foreboding landscape. I’d have been more than happy to keep it that way.

The sky was a vivid blue and cloudless. The sun cast a long shadow, creating a silhouette that reminded me of Peter Pan. I stared at it for a long while. Peter Pan lost his shadow the same way he lost his mum.

Will this happen to me?

Through a glassy stare, I surveyed my new surroundings bit by bit, suddenly feeling weak in my legs, and needing to sit. Everything here felt wrong.

I don’t belong.

‘So, this is the country? Screw this shit.’

The instantaneous burn on my skin from the afternoon heat was oppressing, I welcomed the light breeze that swept momentarily across my face. And what was with the flies! I shook my head and waved my hands to escape the constant barrage swarming me.

‘Bloody hell, rack off!’

My agitation grew as they tried to land on the sticky corners of my mouth. I couldn’t decide what was worse, my thirst or the disgusting sweat under my jeans and jumper. What an idiot. I ripped the jumper off awkwardly and tied it around my waist. The T-shirt underneath was crinkled and worn, but I couldn’t care less. There was no one to see me out here anyway.

I pulled the hair tie from my wrist and scooped my long mane into a careless bun, trying to tame the rambling curls. Limp and clammy, it was as disgusting as I felt.

I grabbed my duffle bag and backpack and began to walk towards the distant farmhouse that I could only assume was where I was supposed to be heading.

‘Nice that someone bothered to come out to meet me.’

Jamming my eyes shut as I walked, I tried to ignore the incessant pests invading my space. Opening my eyes again, I stopped mid-stride. To my astonishment, there in the middle of this hell hole was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Despite my foul mood, exhaustion and absolute hatred for the world right now, I was mesmerised.

The flies had disappeared, and instead, fluttering around my head was a huge butterfly. I lowered my bag to the ground slowly, not wanting to scare it away. Reaching out in front of me, I willed it to rest on my open palm. As I stood in the middle of the dirt road, the sun beating down upon me, I remembered the butterfly song Mum used to sing to me as a child.

Butterfly butterfly, I really want to play,

So, butterfly butterfly, please don’t fly away.

The tune danced through my mind, and for the briefest moment, I smiled, before the hollow feeling in my chest returned. This fleeting memory left me longing for home.

Mum loved me back then, but not anymore.

As the creature landed softly and elegantly on my hand, I could barely feel its light weight on my palm. Resting silently, right before my eyes, it reminded me of a fairy. It was a beautiful shape. Vivid blue and black, with golden tips on the top of its wings. After only a few moments, it was gone, fluttering off into the afternoon.

Like me, it was hard to imagine it belonged out here.

All I could see were trees, more trees and red dirt. The bush was dense and dry. Its only signs of vibrancy were brightly coloured wildflowers, like errant flecks of paint on a red canvas. Paddocks bordered by old rusty ring lock fencing lined the road I trudged along.

The smell of eucalyptus penetrated my nostrils, a minty pine scent mixed with the sweetness of honey. Luckily it dominated the other putrid stench wafting from the nearby paddock. I could only assume it was some sort of dead animal.

The bright crimson sun was beginning to lower in the sky, again causing my eyes to water. I kicked the dirt in frustration. Mistake, my white Converse runners were now tinted like the blush on my cheeks. Dust settled all over me.

‘Why is this happening!’

I stood there, fists clenched, screaming into the vast unknown.

‘Shit! Why?’

As the silence shattered, my body reacted swiftly. Crouching to the ground, instinctively, I covered my head. I’d never heard anything so intense as this piercing, explosive cry from above. More deafening squealing and screeching followed. Above me, literally hundreds of birds had taken to the air, all screaming a cacophony of protest. Highlighted by the blue-red hue of the horizon, a flock of brilliant white cockatoos, their wingspans broad and menacing, were swirling around the sky.

My brewing anger was momentarily replaced by awe. I soaked up the breathtaking sight until they settled in the surrounding gum trees. The collective screeching ceased as quickly as it had begun. The birds now expelled low cackling sounds amongst themselves, high in the branches above.

Were they telling me to go away? I would, given the chance.

Heat flushed through my body again. My anger was never far from the surface. Often it hit me without warning. One thing I knew for sure, this was penance. A sentence I had every intention of escaping as soon as possible.

Continuing the trek towards the house, the rumble of an engine in the distance caught my attention. I turned back to the junction to see an old white Holden Ute approaching. It looked beaten and rusty as dust plumed behind. Hay bales were piled high in the tray.

I edged cautiously to the side of the road, willing the vehicle to pass. No such luck, the Ute with its windows down, slowed to a stop beside me. Should I keep walking? Maybe then they would get the message and piss off. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger.

‘G’day girl. I’m betting you’d be Grace, hey? Bit bloody hot to be goin’ walkabout out here all on yer own, wouldn’t ya say?’

I stared at the leathery skinned old man before me, grinning a smile almost bereft of teeth. I’d never quite seen anything like him. He was still laughing at his own joke.

There is nothing funny about this moment mate.

‘Actually, it is way too hot, but as you can see, I had little choice. The bus dumped me all the way back there.’

He chuckled. I crossed my arms and felt my eyes harden.

‘Yer lucky he made the stop. Silly bugger, that driver’s been known to miss the mark a good mile down the road.’

I glared at him.

‘Well, here I am, red carpet and all, Princess Grace… your chariot awaits my girl.’

He bowed, gesturing for me to get in.

‘I’m not ‘your girl’. You’re a complete stranger! I’m not going anywhere with you!’

‘Is that so girly? Well, Negeenah said you’d be arriving today. Asked me to pick you up on me way back from town if I saw ya. I’m doin’ her a favour, see. So, either ya get in or enjoy the walk in the heat. Don’t bother me none. I have jobs to do. So, what’s it gunna be, Princess Grace?’

He smiled as he spoke, which only made me more pissed off.

‘I’m no princess, for your information!’

‘Ahh, relax, Grace. You’re just like ya mum. She used to throw a good tantrum, too, from what I remember. You gotta be thirsty. C’mon, get in now; Zarnish Estate is still a way yet. And we don’t want them dingos feeding on ya young bones. Getting near huntin’ time, ya know.’

What the hell?

He pointed to the sun as he spoke, as if summoning the day’s ending. I stood there, unable to decide whether he was joking with me or if there was some truth to his rambling. Could I really get eaten by dingos? My mind flashed to the Azaria Chamberlain case I had researched in Australian history at school.

And did this stranger actually know my mum? He was right, I was desperately thirsty and, as much as I wouldn’t admit it, bloody tired. I couldn’t remember ever being this hot and delirious. My clothing stuck to my skin with sweat. It was unbearable.

I’d never seen an Aboriginal in person. His skin was so dark, almost black. It was old and lined, like a well-worn leather couch. When he had laughed, the creases around his eyes showed his age. The eyes themselves were intense and knowing, seemingly full of mischief, defying his years, and his few teeth appeared so white against his skin. His nose was broad, matching his wide face. He wore an old black cowboy hat with a cockatoo feather stuck into its red strip. I could see his hair underneath. Once surely black, it was now almost white.

His old flannel shirt was faded navy blue, rolled at the sleeves. But it was his hands that drew my attention the most. They looked crippled as if riddled with arthritis from a life of manual toiling. There were many scars on them, some travelling up his forearms. I wondered about his story.

‘I don’t even know your name. I wasn’t told anything about you. How do I know I can trust you?’

He walked over to the driver’s side, disappearing inside the Ute.

‘You’re a smart girl. We both know that. The rest is up to you, hey? They call me Tracker. Me tribe gave me that name before they moved on. Been able to track just about anythin’ that moved since I was a little fella. I work for Negeenah. Anyways, you gettin’ in or not?’

I continued to eye him as I opened the door, slumping heavily on the seat beside him. Despite being unsure, it was good to be out of the heat.

‘Let’s get this over with then. Don’t get used to me, though, Tracker. I won’t be here for long. I don’t belong here.’

Minutes of silence passed as we bumped along the road seemingly filled with endless potholes. Tracker looked across at me, his face more serious now.

‘Mark me words, Princess Grace, you belong here more than any of us. You just don’t know it yet.’

Her

Reliving the events leading up to my arrival caused my heart to physically hurt. My stomach churned, and eventually, I pushed the toxic memories down.

I messed it all up.

I hadn’t meant for the fire to get so out of hand. The blaze had taken on a life of its own, engulfing the school library so quickly. I’d just wanted to be taken seriously, for someone to listen. If the teachers had just given me a chance to explain. I was the perfect target to accuse. Stealing… and arson. If they had only taken the time to hear me, things would have ended up so differently.

I wouldn’t have been living this nightmare, that was for sure.

It all happened so quickly.

My arrest. Again.

Expulsion from school.

Now it was all just blurred and scattered in my mind. I had argued and pleaded with my mum not to send me here. Why didn’t she listen? Fricken bitch!

‘It’s the only option now, Gracie… you’ve run out of chances.’

The memory filled me with rage all over again.

‘Time away from here, girl, that’s what you need… it might just be the thing that saves you, Gracie.’

The ultimatums kept repeating incessantly in my head.

I hate her.

This was not my plan at all. Not how I intended my future to be. I’m bright. I know I am. I always knew what I wanted, had my life all mapped out. I had plans and good ones, too. I’d easily won a scholarship. Always wanted to study History at university. Only last year, May of 2014, I proudly received the Victorian Community History Award. I was, in fact, the youngest recipient to be honoured with it. This had only served to fuel my desire to embark on a career, unearthing the mysteries of the past.

But that was before.

Before everything broke.

Shattered into a million tiny pieces… lost forever now.

Before all the things that made me desperate enough to become someone I never thought possible.

Before I was driven by anger and revenge.

Before I realised life wasn’t fair.

Before I started wagging school and breaking the law.

Trying to hurt the people that had hurt me.

This was far from over.

So, Mum wants to play this card? She’s going to regret it.

Finally, we came to a driveway lined with old post and rail fencing, greyed by the elements and rotting in parts. Big old trees lined the grand entrance, leading all the way to the homestead. They were different from the bush surrounding them. Thick trunks, full canopies lush with green leaves. Maybe oak trees? They were like giants guarding the property. I welcomed the shade they offered.

Hmm, not what I’d expected at all.

Clearly, this had been a prestigious dwelling in its time. The house and surrounding land had to be worth a small fortune. So, the question was, did all this belong to my grandma? The old lady whom I barely knew. The virtual stranger I’m supposed to trust with my well-being from today.

Negeenah.

Intrigue quashed my irritation briefly, as all I could do was stare and admire as the Ute rolled closer. The grand home was made of large bluestone blocks. It was huge, a double-story dwelling which dominated its surroundings. As we approached, I could see three chimneys, and the tin roof was worn and rusted. There were four large windows upstairs and below, French doors on either side of the huge double fronted entrance. So grand, my mind raced expectantly at what it would be like inside. I estimated it must have been built in the late 1800’s. Fleetingly a memory of exploring historical homes with my mum surfaced, but I pushed it away.

That was another life.

I could see an old woman waiting in the distance. She was leaning casually against one of the brick pillars at the entrance of the homestead. Was she my grandmother? The woman was shaded under the long wide veranda that wrapped around the homestead. Wisteria curled its way around the roofline, displaying purple and white bursts of colour that softened the bluestone.

My mum had always been evasive about Negeenah. I knew she’d come to Australia early in her life from Central Asia. Had she come alone?

Here we go.

Tracker stopped the Ute near the entrance and hopped out to greet her. My eyes darted for an escape, and I could feel the colour rising in my cheeks, yet I stayed put. Weird. The car I was so reluctant to get into was now my haven. Awash with trepidation, my body was refusing to move anyway.

‘Found this little firecracker along the road Miss Negeenah.’

I couldn’t see his face but heard his irritating laugh as he gestured back toward his car.

‘Thought ya might be able to put her to work. Save me a job or two around here, hey.’

The woman smiled at him, nodding her head. Her expression was guarded.

I could tell the dog was eager to come and check me out, but he stayed obediently beside his owner. As I reluctantly got out, he eyed me intently. Could he sense my dread? My body moved slowly and awkwardly, weighed down by some invisible force.

The dog had to be Rex. I’d heard my grandmother had rescued him when he was just a pup. He had apparently turned up a few years after she had made this place her home. Mum had told me how Rex had been left abandoned by the red letterbox. Whimpering softly in an old apple crate, tiny and all alone.

I know how you feel.

He was quite a big dog, with brown and black fur. Kelpie like, except for the large ears which seemed out of place on his head. I couldn’t tell if he was friendly or not. Like his owner, he was giving little away. Not that I knew much about animals. I’d always thought them stupid, just something that needed looking after, a burden. Animals were just something else you gave your love to, then they just left or died.

Trying to summon fake confidence, I forced myself forward. I’d stalled long enough. Only briefly did I glance up, preferring to study the dirt as I walked. Truth be told, I was nervous, feeling intense anxiety. Those recurrent symptoms; stomach-churning, mind racing, palms sweaty. They were like second nature to me now. But I dared not let this weakness be seen. I’d learned to hide this well. I wore a painted mask of pride and self-worth. Showing emotion, in reality, got you nowhere. I’d learned the hard way to always appear in control, squash the self-doubt swirling inside at all costs.

While avoiding making eye contact with her, I noticed a horse loosely tethered in the front yard. It was saddled as if it had just been ridden. Its tail and mane were full and white, and sweat glistened on its golden coat. As I passed, the beast reared its head and neighed loudly, flaring its nostrils. Stepping back momentarily, I stared into its wild eyes. It was huge.

‘Hush, Jinta, this is our guest. Behave yourself, old girl. Don’t mind her, Gracie, she doesn’t like strangers much, but will soon warm to you.’

Only my mum has the right to call me Gracie, old lady.

Stopping abruptly, when face to face, I dropped my bag onto the dirt by my side. I met Negeenah’s gaze, determined not to look away. Tracker was already starting his Ute and driving off. I should have thanked him, I suppose. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was close enough to spit on the mysterious woman called ‘Negeenah’. My grandmother. She nodded.

‘I know this must be hard for you. But it is for the best, lass. So, let’s try to get along shall we.’

Fixedly staring, my voice was firm and low.

‘How would you know what’s best for me? You don’t even know me!’

I crossed my arms, shielding my body.

‘This is true. But maybe, just maybe, Gracie, your time here will prove to be a turning point in your life. It is my experience that times of great trial have revealed to me where my real strengths lie.’

‘Don’t call me Gracie. I’m not a child. And I’m not going to be here a minute longer than I have to be. I don’t belong here.’

Negeenah raised her chin, Rex stood to attention eyeballing me closely.

‘Is that right, lass? Well, where do you belong exactly, then? Doesn’t sound to me like things have been going that great for you in the city, of late.’

‘You know nothing about my life or what they did to me, so don’t pretend you do. You don’t want me here, in this shit hole, any more than I want to be here.’

Negeenah raised her hand, taking a step closer into my space. I held my ground.

‘You will watch your tone when you speak to me, lass! That I insist on. I understand more than you know. It was at my insistence you came here. Trust me, you will learn far more about yourself at Zarnish than any detention centre.’

Her voice was strong and demanded respect. The accent, I couldn’t place. I took in the features of my grandmother’s face as she spoke. Unmistakably, she had the same dark piercing eyes I saw in the mirror. She was so intense, hard to get a read on. I could see the likeness in her