Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
It was three a.m. when I checked the time on my phone. I was on autopilot, shaking as I put the torch app on, not wanting to light up the room with my bedside lamp. I was as quiet as I could be as I opened my rucksack and piled my work clothes in with my shoes. I took each step slowly and silently as I crept out into the hall. Please, God, don’t let him hear me.
I held my breath when I reached the door and slid the bolt open. I turned the handle as softly as I could, pulse thumping as I stepped outside and closed the door gently behind me. The corridor lamp was flickering low as I dashed up the stairs, still in my PJs. I pressed my head against the door to number six before I dared to knock, just a soft tap of my knuckles. I had to take a deep breath before I knocked again, louder.
Please.
I tapped again, a staccato of raps, hoping he would hear me. I figured he’d be in bed and I’d be left out here, alone, but no. I heard footsteps and the latch clicked, and then the door swung open. A haggard Julian, still in his suit.
“I’m sorry,” I said with my rucksack on my shoulder. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
My cheeks must have been blotchy from tears when he let me in and through to the living room. I sat down on his sofa and tossed my bag onto the floor, crumpling over with my elbows on my knees as I tried to compose myself. He was right there beside me, kneeling on the floor, but he didn’t put his hands on me, just waited.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I just… I couldn’t stay there…”
“What happened? Did he hurt you?”
The tears kept coming, silent as I struggled for breath.
“He, um… no. He didn’t hit me or anything… he just…”
“Did he hurt your mother?”
“No. She’s still loved up, and she doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what? What did he do to you, Rosie?”
Time for honesty. I caught my breath before I spoke.
“I threatened him. I told him that next time I’d go to the police, no matter what, and I’d catch him on camera, and I’d tell them, and I wouldn’t let it go.”
“Good. And then what happened?”
“I called him weak, and then I went to bed. I thought that was it. I put my earbuds in, so I couldn’t hear them, and I went to sleep, but then…” I struggled to speak. “He came in, in the dark. He pinned me down and told me that he’d make me pay if I did anything like that. He said he’d fuck us both up, me and Mum, and he means it. I know he means it. But I don’t know what to do.”
With that, it all collapsed and the sobs came. I always tried to stay strong, always, but I couldn’t hold it back. Years of fear and hurt spilled over and caught me in its grip, but so did Julian. He sat next to me on the sofa and he pulled me into his arms, and held me tight.
He didn’t rush me, or try to get me to speak some more, just rocked me gently, cradling my head against his chest, and it felt like everything I’d never had. Comfort. Strength. Care.
“It’s ok,” he told me, and for once I believed it. “I’m going to make sure it’s ok. You’re safe now.”
I kept crying, letting it flow free, and it was beautiful to let the fear loose, without a mask disguising it. Scottie was too dangerous for me to handle. I’d tried a thousand times, and tried with Mum too, but I couldn’t make it work. I couldn’t.
I pulled away when I had enough composure to get some words out.
“Are you going to call the police? He’ll deny it.”
Julian shook his head, his hands on mine, squeezing.
“You don’t need to worry about what I’m going to do, Rosie. Just trust me. I’m going to make sure it’s ok.”
I nodded, managing a smile.
“Thank you.”
It was when I leant back on the sofa that I realised there were cushions behind me. I shifted so I could see them. Their beige and gold brocade brought out the tone of the tattered leather.
“Let me go and get you a drink,” Julian said, and got to his feet. “What would you like? Tea? Coffee? Orange juice? I have some cordials, too.”
It seems a lovely set of cushions weren’t the only things he’d bought today.
“Orange juice would be great, please.”
I took another look at the cushions when he disappeared into the kitchen. They were gorgeous. He had a new lamp too, standing tall in the corner. Its brass frame was elegant, and the shade was rich and red.