Muther

By Sharon Eberhardt

Danielle Campbell is not quite five years old when she is kidnapped and taken from her home at an orphanage in Vancouver by her mother, Nora, during one of their weekly visits. She was recently released from an asylum and is convinced that Danielle is actually her son rather than her daughter. Danny is told she is going on a trip but has no idea that it is a journey into insanity.

Over the course of the next year, Danny lives through a horrible and baffling period, dealing at times with Nora, a woman who claims to be her grandmother, and another woman who says she is Dannys aunt, Claire. Afraid of the abuse that is constantly heaped on her and dealing with recurring nightmares of murder, Dannywho dresses as a boy at her mothers insistencefinds friends in their downstairs neighbors, Dolly and her son, Squeaky. As Nora becomes increasingly psychotic, it soon becomes clear that everyone around her is in grave danger.

In this suspenseful novel, as one woman descends into madness, her young daughter must find the strength within her to prevent her mother from killing again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477265673

Sharon Eberhardt

Sharon Eberhardt was born in Brantford, Ontario, where she still resides with her husband, Mike. She is well traveled but always returns to her roots. She is a poet and a songwriter but mostly considers herself a short-story writer. This is her first novel.

Book preview

© 2012 by Sharon Eberhardt. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/28/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-6568-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-6567-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012916132

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty—eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

This book is dedicated to Bernard and Ravonna,

who have made it their life’s work in helping all the little

Dannys of the world.

May angels always be with them.

Chapter One

‘Clickety-clack, clickety-clack’. The sound of the train and its’ hypnotic movements made Danielle Campbell’s eyes heavy as she leaned back in the slightly over-stuffed seat. She shuffled her boney four year old frame into a more comfortable position and glanced up at her mother. She didn’t like this long brown coat or flattened hat she’d been told to wear for the journey but she hesitated to say anything to the quiet, pale face that was staring out into the darkness. Her mother was distant and distracted. Danielle was hungry and they hadn’t eaten in awhile. She wondered if this strange woman, this woman she called ‘Mother’ would feed her. She wondered where they were going and what ‘home’ was. She’d been told she didn’t have a home, except at the shelter in Vancouver. Mr. and Mrs. Brown had taken care of her and she missed her good friend Elsie. When she went to visit her mother on the weekends, she’d felt uncomfortable and alone, but Mrs. Brown was always present. Danielle was glad of that. Her mother talked mostly to Mrs. Brown and not to her. She was glad of that also.

Ma? Danielle looked up toward the rigid face.

What? What is it Danny? snarled Nora.

She’d never heard the name ‘Danny’ before and her eyebrows came down quizzically.

I’m hungry, Danielle said in a faint voice.

Her mother stared at her. She didn’t speak for a moment and then said Oh. I’ll ask the conductor for a sandwich. I forgot. We’ll be on this train for three days, did you know that?

Why did you call me Danny? timidly asked Danielle.

Because that’s yer’ name! Her mother’s voice raised an octave and there was bitterness in the sound. They changed it, those people! They led you to believe that you’re not who you are! Your name is Danny. You’re my little lad and we’re going home to Grandma’s. And to Aunt Clara’s. They live in Buford where you were born. Far away in Ontario."

But I…

Hush, Nora said firmly. I know those people told you that you didn’t have a family but ya do! And as soon as we get home I’m goin’ to give ya proper clothes to wear. And that hair! That hair will have to come off!

Daniel gave a little gasp. She shivered inside and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

Everyone always said how pretty her shoulder length hair was. It was blonde and wavy and soft. And now her mother said she was going to cut it off. And she didn’t understand why her mother would think she was a boy. She knew she wasn’t a boy. She’d slept with the girls at the shelter and eaten with the girls. She wasn’t allowed to sleep with the boys. She played with them in the schoolyard though and they were rough and had different clothes and hair and voices. She wasn’t a boy! Why would her mother say that?

Nora was looking out of the dark window again. She’d forgotten, in her fury that her child was hungry. Her thoughts were racing as she planned what the next step would be. This wouldn’t have happened-this would NEVER have happened if only David had stayed with her. She hated David. She hated her mother and sister.

She hated the asylum she left behind. But mostly she hated the Browns for taking her baby, her precious boy. Or was it a girl she’d had? Well, no mind. David wanted a boy and Danny would be that boy.

She hoped that they didn’t come looking for Mrs. Brown right away. Nora was allowed three hours on Saturday with Danny and she’d done what she had to do in the first half hour. The tickets were in her purse and it was just a matter oftelling Danny they were going for a little ride on the big train. Oh yes! They were going for a ride alright. Nora was heading home. Back to where she could find David. Back to her mother who was dead but lived on, so vividly in Nora’s mind. Back to the sister she never had. The sister who would help her and be close to her in times of need. And this ‘was’ a time of need. For the first time she could take care of her son as no one else could. She had never been allowed to have him…or her?.. .No…HIM, for more than three hours of scrutinizing visitations on Saturday and Sunday. She’d played her part well. She was the epitome of a good, wholesome mother. She’d read books in the asylum numerous times and her favorite was Dr. Hynes and Care of Your Baby. Danny was no longer a baby so her worries were few when it came to that. But she must get away! Nora wished the train would go faster. It was going to be a long three days.

At six-thirty five, Mrs. Brown still hadn’t arrived home from her scheduled visits with Nora Campbell and her daughter, Danielle. The director of Children’s Aid was more than a little upset when Mr. Brown phoned and told them his wife was not home yet. They sent an investigator out to the Campbell apartment. What they saw after they broke the door down would be talked about in hushed tones by the city for quite some time. The social worker was still sitting in the chair at Nora’s apartment, with a cup held in her hand and a large black carving knife sticking out of the side of her neck.

Chapter Two

‘Danny’ as she’d become known to their few neighbors, sat on the porch of the tiny apartment in Buford. Her hair was cropped short and dyed a mousy brown color. She wore blue jeans and a faded blue T-shirt that her mother had bought from the Salvation Army. Her pixie face and big eyes watched the fight going on between her mother and Mrs. Glasius from across the street. They hollered at each other and both women staggered when they walked. Her mother had a foul odor on her breath. She did most days but today was bad. She’d gotten up in a mean mood all around and had screamed at Danny to clean up her mess. And she was angry that Danny found a doll and was playing with it in front of the broken television. It was a beautiful doll, with long blonde hair just like she’d had in the orphanage. Grabbing the doll, Nora tore the head from the tiny body in one quick heart-breaking motion.

She smacked Danny’s face with the hard plastic body. Boys DON’T play with dolls! What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy, huh? Are you crazy like they said mommy was crazy, huh? Whack!

Danny’s head hurt and now the neighbor that heard the yelling and screaming from Nora, was hollering at her to stop. They were both on the street. This wasn’t a nice thing to see and Danny cried as she watched.

Yer’ not fit to be a mammy! Mrs. Glasius said in her strange accent. I’ve a mind to call a cop, I do! Treatin’ your boy like that! The whole street can hear ya screaming and carryin on!

The fight Danny put up when the scissors were taken to her hair the night before was more than Nora was prepared for. She’d sat her on the chair by the table and put an old towel around her neck. At the first sign of a long lock ofshiny blonde hair, Danny had given a yelp as if the scissors had cut into her flesh. She knocked them from her mother’s arm and scampered out of the chair like a frightened animal. Nora however was quick. She grabbed Danny by the hair and dragged her back to the chair. ‘Thump!’ ‘You WILL hold still! She said in her course rough voice. Again Danny bolted but this time Nora was on her, pinning her down and slapping her face back and forth with her open hand. "You snot-nose SISSY’ she