Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Rosie

Julian’sfabric softener had a different smell to ours. Lavender, I think. I kept catching the scent of it as I dashed around the kitchen. It distracted me. I wasn’t up to my usual form.

“Rosie!” Kieran said. “Get with it. The two stuffed crusts need taking out!”

Stuffed crust.

I was right back in Julian’s kitchen, staring into his bright green eyes. I was going out of my mind. All I could think about was him.

Saturdays were always busy. I was exhausted when I reached the end of the day shift and grabbed my bag from the staffroom. It was raining outside when I walked home, so I hit my bedroom as soon as I was through the door, ignoring Mum in the kitchen, since she was busy laughing on the phone.

I stripped off my uniform and ditched it for something dry and cosy – my favourites – some PJ bottoms and a faded t-shirt with a cartoon kitten on. Mum was still chatting away when I went in to make myself a cup of tea. For once, I didn’t make her one. She ended her call with a catch you soon. Eight, right?

I knew from her giggle that she was talking to Scottie as she said goodbye.

“He’s coming over again, then?” I asked.

She looked almost sheepish, despite the fact that she was still grinning.

“Things are a lot better between us. He’s learnt from his mistakes. And I’ve learnt from mine, too.”

I could have shaken her in an attempt to make her see sense, but there would be no point. I could have screeched and screamed that he was still the loser he always was, and one stupid night of hanging out in the living room didn’t change a thing, but I’d tried that plenty of times before.

“Fine,” I said, and she almost jolted back, surprised.

“You’re ok with it?”

I scoffed. “As if. But what difference would it make?”

“He really has changed this time.”

“Like every time. Sure.”

“You can ask him about it yourself later. He wants to see you. He wants to tell you himself.”

I was glaring when I looked at her. “I have nothing to say, other than the fact I hate him and wish he’d fuck off and never come back.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“A bit harsh? He nearly fucking killed you!”

She fiddled with some plates on the side, silent.

“I mean it, Mum. I don’t want to see him. He can fuck off!”

She sighed. “Jayden has been working through things with him, you know. He’s getting anger management therapy. He’s already been to the doctor’s about it.”

“Sure he has. Like always. He’s a liar.”

“He’s trying, Rosie. We all are!”

I could have thrown my cup of tea across the room.

“He’s not trying! He never does. He’s full of shit, and you know it. He knows it. Jayden knows it. We ALL know it, but one bunch of shitty flowers and some love talk makes it all ok!”

I took a breath and tried to calm myself down. She was getting upset, and I reminded myself that Scottie was the piece of shit. Not her. Mum was someone caught up in his lies and bullshit, desperate for someone to love her. She always had been, since her parents threw her out at seventeen after finding out she was pregnant. In her world, she was unlovable. In her universe, she was a failure who should take Scottie’s love at any cost. Sometimes I got so angry that I wished he’d get hit by a car when he was stumbling, drunk along the roadside. If only I was loaded enough to pay a hitman to finish him off, and then whisk Mum out of this place, to somewhere great and happy, with an unlimited amount of therapy to help her work on her self-esteem. She deserved so much more than this shithole.

Mum changed the subject, looking at me as I sipped at my tea.

“Where did you go last night? Trisha said you didn’t show up at hers.”

“Oh, really. So she was expecting me, then? She’d have probably seen me if she’d have opened her front door and shot so much as a glance outside. I spent hours sitting out there, in the corridor, waiting for you to let me back in.”

She looked like I’d stabbed her.

“You could have gone to Trisha’s, or Jayden’s! You could have gone out with your work friends, too. They usually head out on a Friday.”

“I didn’t want to. I wanted to come home.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t want to be here, though. Not around Scottie. I know you struggle at first.”

“Thanks for the consideration.”

I needed to stop with the sarcasm. I closed my eyes, trying to centre myself. I cursed under my breath. I hated this shit.

“Where did you go?” she asked again. “You weren’t there at two. I checked.”

“Why do you care now? You didn’t care last night!” I could feel myself getting upset, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep my own hurt away from Mum. “Forget about it. I’m going to listen to my book for a bit. Catch you later.”

She didn’t bother fighting me.

“Scottie’s coming over at eight.”

“Yeah, I heard. Can’t wait.”

I was so angry that I thumped a pillow when I flopped onto my bed. My head was spinning, and I hated this shithole, and I wanted to punch Scottie in the face for even daring to come back. I wished I was strong enough to do it, but he’d laugh in my face. I couldn’t even pull him off her during a chokehold, so I wasn’t going to be able to kick him to the floor.

I tried listening to my book to kill the chatter in my head, but even though I sought out an especially filthy age gap professor novel, it didn’t combat the rage I felt about Scottie being back in Mum’s life. The minutes turned into hours, slowly, and eight p.m. must have arrived. I felt the thump of the front door closing. The asshole was here.

I fought as hard as I could, but by 10 p.m. I was desperate for the toilet, so had no choice but to show my face out there. Scottie jumped on the opportunity as soon as he saw me, already chilling out on the sofa like he owned the place.

“Hey, Rosie, you alright?”

“No!” I said and walked straight on into the bathroom.

I took my time, determined to return to my bedroom and stay there right through until morning, unless Mum was screaming her head off. I took a shower, with my coconut shampoo and my foam body wash, then got back into my PJs, teeth brushed and ready for bed. I only needed a simple glass of water from the kitchen. I’d munched on enough garlic bread and salad through my shift that I didn’t need any dinner.

“Scottie wants to talk to you,” Mum said as I marched past them.

My glare must have been cold enough to burn.

“I don’t give a fuck what Scottie wants,” I told her, then looked at him with a hateful sneer. “I promise you, you piece of shit, if you lay your hands on my mum again, I’m going to call the police. I don’t care how much she denies it, and I don’t care how much you try to squirm out of it with garage flowers and promises. Next time, I’m going to make sure I get pictures of you on my phone, and I’m going to push and push until you get what you deserve.”

His face turned sour. “I’ve changed, Rosie.”

“BULLSHIT!” I yelled. “You’re a vile piece of shit, who likes hurting my mum! That doesn’t ever change!”

Even now, in his I’m so sorry phase, he didn’t show any kind of true remorse. He looked like he wanted to rip my heart out. Part of me wished he would, just so I could go after him for real, with bruises on me and not on my mother. There would be no chance of denial then. I’d have the evidence on myself.

I don’t know if there was something different in the way I held myself as I stood there this time around. If there was more fire in my eyes, or I was at the point where I genuinely had reached my limits, once and for all. I didn’t know what was truly behind it, but something had shifted inside me. Who knows? Maybe it was someone upstairs who actually gave a fuck about me for once, and who’d given a true fuck about my mum. Contrast can be a powerful thing.

Whatever it was, Scottie picked up on it. He straightened in his seat, but he met my stare with a darkness of his own.

“I don’t like hurting your mum, Rosie.”

He was holding his words back in front of her. I knew what he really wanted to say. He wanted to threaten me back and call me the names he called her, and likely crush my throat like he wanted to crush hers in one of his rages, but I didn’t give a shit. The blood was pumping in my veins.

“You’re pathetic,” I told him. “You know that? You’re pathetic. You only want to fight people smaller than you, which is virtually nobody, you wimpy little shithead.”

“Rosie!” Mum said, like I was the one who’d broken the boundary.

I didn’t break my stare, wishing I could shoot daggers from my eyes.

“You’re pathetic,” I told him again. “And one day you’re going to pay for it. I can’t wait until you rot in hell!”

I didn’t hang around at that. I turned and walked away, slamming my bedroom door behind me and putting my water on the bedside table with shaking hands.

I hid under the bedcovers as the world spun around me, feeling more frantic this time. Closer to breaking. Again, maybe it was contrast. Seeing the care in someone’s eyes as they rescued me from the cold, hard floor outside…

Music came on from the living room, and I was sure their second kiss and make up session was underway. Mum would be safe tonight, while Scottie was in the love you for ever mode, but I was still burning up. I must have tossed and turned for hours, still only half asleep when the music turned off. They were laughing together as they passed my bedroom door to get to hers. I sighed as I put my earbuds back in so I couldn’t hear any more from them. The thought of him touching her made me feel sick.

My earbuds must have been the reason I didn’t hear my door open later. I was lying asleep with them still in when I felt the presence of someone in my room. I tugged them out, eyes frantic. The room was dark and quiet, but I could still see him there, standing right next to my bed. The orange light through the curtains made him look even more nasty than usual.

The terror I felt was so intense it was electric. I wanted to scrabble, and bolt, and run, but I couldn’t. He moved before I had the chance to, pinning me down with a hand over my mouth. I could hear his breaths up close. Feel them in my face.

“Don’t even think about screaming,” he said. “It won’t end well for anyone if you do, you get me?”

I nodded in shock under his hand, unsure of what the hell else to do. He took his hand away, and it took everything I had not to screech the place down. I tried to squirm away, but it didn’t work. He had me tight.

“Still think I’m so fucking weak, do you? You even think of taking photos of me and showing them to the police and I’ll fuck you up bad.”

Yeah, it was true. He knew I’d been serious earlier. Something had changed in me.

And changed in him, too…

I stayed silent, twisted up in fear. His breaths were fierce in my face.

“Your mother won’t back you up if it comes to it, you know that? If you try to cause shit, it’s my side she’ll take, not yours.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said, but he laughed a nasty, quiet laugh.

“Like fuck it is. You’d better tone down the shitty attitude, or you’ll get worse than she does. You understand me?”

There were so many things I wanted to shout and scream, but he was deadly serious. He meant it. His words were more ominous than I’d ever known. This wasn’t the throes of rage where things flared up in horrendous arguments, this was cold, calculated. True.

It gave me shivers.

“Good,” he said. “You’ve got the fucking message.”

I gasped but didn’t move as he pulled away and got back to his feet. He stepped backwards without giving a shit for what I might do to him, knowing I was too terrified to do a thing. For Mum’s sake, as well as mine. He was right. Scottie would weave his sick magic with her, and she’d stand by him. She was too delusional to do anything else.

He didn’t close my door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar. I heard a token flush of the toilet to excuse his bedroom exit, and then I heard the mumble of voices as he got back into their room. Mum would have no idea what was happening here, and if I told her… if she knew what he’d just done…

It would go one way or another, and both of them had terrifying outcomes. We’d be dragged down to hell along with him.

I scrabbled for my phone from under the covers, urges pumping to call the police, but what could I tell them? Scottie would deny it, and he’d make me pay, and make Mum pay, too. I could have called Trisha, but she’d stay out of it when it really mattered. She’d rather play ignorant than get caught up in this mess. Jayden wouldn’t condemn his dad. So it was just me, alone in the terror. The rage and panic turned to hurt and tears, and I felt myself breaking, giving up for once in my life. Finally.

My strength left. Years of trying my best to keep myself together and stay strong fell away, and I was the little girl I’d left behind when I was young. I was nothing but a tiny ball of tears under the bedcovers as I realised just how trapped we were in the wheel of abuse.

I laid there awhile, still hiding, shaking, listening to them, laughing, moaning, grunting. The vile piece of shit was fucking her, using and abusing her and there was fuck all I could do about it. There was no way I’d get back to sleep, and he would be there in the morning, playing happy families with Mum, who’d be oblivious. I worked evening shifts on a Sunday, and Scottie wouldn’t be back at the construction yard until early Monday, so I’d be fucked, unable to avoid him. I got another bout of the shivers, because I couldn’t do it. I’d never be able to keep it together in front of him, not after tonight.

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.

“Here you go,” he said as he returned with my drink.

The juice was lovely. One of the ones with juicy bits in. I smiled after I’d taken a decent swig.

“Seriously, Julian. I’m sorry I came up here. This isn’t your problem.”

“On the contrary,” he told me. “I’m very glad you did. This is very much my problem now, and I assure you I’m going to remedy it.”

He sounded so strong.

He smiled as he looked down at my PJs. I was in fluffy socks with no shoes.

“At least you’re ready for bed.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be getting any sleep, somehow.”

“I think you should try anyway,” he told me. “Some rest will do you good. You can sleep soundly here.”

We sat in the most comfortable silence I’d ever known. I didn’t feel panic, or despair. I felt exposed in my utter rawness, and there was a sense of relief in it that defied all logic. All fear.

“It’s going to be ok,” Julian told me again, and I believed him.

It was heaven.

He got up and held out a hand. I got a buzz, almost like static as I took hold of it. He led me through to his bedroom and I almost gasped out loud at the sight before me.

He had new bedding, pristine white cotton like the kind in hotels. He had new pillows, too. Four of them, looking big and fluffed up.

He folded back the sheets for me.

“Please, try to sleep, Rosie. Nothing can hurt you here.”

I guess the collapse of emotions really had taken it out of me, because my body defied the whirr of my brain. I was exhausted. It felt so natural to do what he instructed. He smiled down at me as I slipped under the bedcovers, but then he retreated to the doorway.

“Sleep in as long as you want. I know you don’t have work until the evening.” His eyes were so warm. “Sleep all afternoon if you want to. I’ll be out here whenever you need me.”

“Thanks,” I said again, for the thousandth time.

“You can thank me by resting up,” he replied. “You need it.”

I needed him, too.

My soul screamed as he flicked off the light and closed the door behind him, because I was desperate. I wanted more than anything for him to stay, and slide into bed with me and hold me tight. I wanted to feel him pressed against me. I wanted to hold him back.

I wanted to kiss him.And touch him. And feel his hands on me in return.

But that wasn’t going to happen – not even if I was damp, in one of his shirts, with my nipples on display.

So, I’d have to make do in his bed without him.

Sleep was easier than I expected on such comfortable pillows. I was already drifting off as I rolled onto my side.