“You were eleven.” Her voice shakes. “You were eleven, Leoni, and you were the one who dialled for the ambulance. Your hands were covered in my blood.”
I close my eyes. The memory hits like a fist. Her on the kitchen floor. Me kneeling beside her.Isaac screaming at him to stop.Sirens.It was the first time I’d witnessed my father’s violence. It’d been happening for years, since I was small, but I’d only ever heard her muffled screams as I covered my ears whilst hidden upstairs under my blankets. But that particular night, I’d been sick, and I’d fallen asleep on the couch.
“I remember,” I whisper.
“Then remember the rest,” she snaps back. “Remember how he smiled when they put him in cuffs. Remember how he came right back here when they released him, smug as anything. Remember how we had to run, Lee. How we packed up our shit to live in a fucking bedsit.” My stomach twists. “And the endless visits from social services because he kept calling them saying I was neglecting you. Do you remember that?” I nod. “Isaac hated him because he saweverything.” Her voice breaks on his name. “He never forgave me for letting him come back home the first time. I thought… I thought I could fix it. I thought love meant staying.” She wipes her face angrily, as if tears are a weakness. “And now Isaac is gone, and that man is still breathing. And you want to go see him?”
I grip the paper so tight it wrinkles.
“I don’t want to see him,” I whisper. “But I can’t pretend he wasn’t Isaac’s father. He deserves to know his son is dead.”
Mum steps forward. Her voice softens. “He doesn’t get to grieve for him. He lost that right the moment he raised a hand to this family.”
“He never…” I hesitate because I know the words will hurt her. “He didn’t hit us, Mum.”
She steps back like I’ve punched her, her expression unreadable. “He almost killed me seven years ago, Leoni. He’s in prison because he hurt me so badly, I was in intensive care.”
“I know,” I snap. “I know what he did, Mum. But I have to see him. I have to explain what happened to Isaac.”
“Then leave.” We both turn at the sound of Jordan’s voice as he descends the stairs, his eyes fixed on me. “That man is nothing to this family. But if you want to see him so badly, leave.”
“Jord,” I whisper.
He stops in front of me. “He’s a piece of shit. He taught us nothing good, that’s why Isaac is in the mortuary, cold and alone.” His voice cracks, and I lift my hand to touch him, but he shrugs me off, anger radiating off him. “Why did you leave him that night?” he demands, and I frown with confusion. “He was injured. Why didn’t you take him to hospital or call the police.” I inhale sharply, his words hitting me like a sledgehammer. “If you’d have stayed with him or got help, he’d still be alive now.”
I turn to look at Mum, she glances at the floor, avoiding my eye. My vision blurs as I feel behind me for the door handle, relieved when I finally grab it and tug it open. I stumble out into the street, gasping for breath but feeling like my lungs are being squeezed through a vice. Jordan slams it closed.
I lean one hand on the wall whilst bending at the waist, inhaling deeply, but not enough to inflate anything. I grasp at my collar; it’s already loose, but I pull it anyway. I crouch against the wall and pull out my mobile. My vision is still blurry as I scroll through until I find Courtney’s name. It rings out, but she doesn’t answer, and I curse her through panting breaths. I try again, closing my eyes as I press the handset to my ear. It connects and I almost cry in relief, until I hear his voice.
Warren.
“Hello, Leoni? Are you there?”
I pull the handset from my ear and peer at the screen.Cunt.I saved his name under Cunt, and I must have pressed that instead of Courtney.Fuck.
“Lee, what’s going on, I can hear you breathing. Are you okay?”
“I–-it’s—I can’t—breathe.”
“I’m coming,” he says, his voice laced with panic. “Stay there, I’m coming.” I hear him bark a frantic order, and car doors slamming. “Are you hurt?” he asks. “Lee, are you hurt?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Okay, don’t talk, it’s making it worse. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. Focus on something nearby. Just one thing.”
I force my eyes open and stare at the house across the way. The window frames are rotten, and the glass is mouldy. I don't remember a time when it didn’t look run down and old. I never see anyone coming or going, even though this has been my home since I was twelve years old.
“I’m nearly there.”
Seconds later, a dark coloured car screeches to a stop, and I see his shiny shoes as he runs towards me, dropping to his haunches and brushing the hair from my face. “Jesus, you gave me a fright,” he murmurs, running his eyes over me. “What happened?”
“I think I had a panic attack,” I whisper, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I didn’t mean to call–”
“I’m glad you did,” he says gently. “Let’s get you in the warmth.” And then he leans closer, scooping me into his arms and standing in one swift movement.
He carries me to the waiting car, where Anthony holds open the passenger door. Warren keeps me in his arms, sliding in with me in his lap. The door closes and the warmth wraps around me. I close my eyes and lay my head against his chest. I just need everything to stop. I need some peace.
WARREN
