Right from the start. Probably from before Elijah had even met Delores. Or maybe it was because he’d met Delores. The one thing Elijah knew about men like Michael was that they were bullies, and bullies didn’t like to be made fools of. If Michael had somehow found out about Delores and Elijah what lengths would he go to to punish her?
Would he be angry enough to make her think she had gone insane?
Insane enough to kill her kids.
Things that she had said now made sense. Her highs and lows, her ups and downs, even when taking her meds. He would have never suspected, and yet he fit the profile perfectly. Michael was a narcissistic control-freak. He was messing with his wife’s head to keep her under control. It had to be. It was the only explanation.
“Placebos,” Elijah muttered to himself through gritted teeth. His jaw clamped together like it was glued. Michael had to have been giving her placebos to confuse her, and everyone else, to make it look like she was taking her meds. And he knew exactly where he was getting them from.Christine.
That’s why he’d recommended her for the damn pharmacy job.
Elijah still stood in the shower, the hot air evaporating and chilling his skin. But he barely felt a thing. He stepped out of the shower, his muscles full of burning rage. He ran his hands through his thick damp hair, feeling droplets splash down his back and across the walls behind him.
He couldn’t prove a thing, he knew that. Which meant Michael would get away with it. Which meant Michael would probably continue to do it. He would continue to drive Delores insane, continue to convince her that she was crazy. That she had harmed her kids.
The doctors would help, wouldn’t they?
He let his mind wander back to the wreck of a woman he had found in her hospital room and knew that even they couldn’t help. Somehow, some way, whatever Michael was doing was going unnoticed.
“Bastard,” Elijah said through gritted teeth. He felt the word right through to his soul. He pulled on his jeans, letting them slide up his still damp legs and forgoing underwear with the need to just get dressed. He grabbed his polo shirt and pulled it over his head. It was inside out, but he didn’t care.
Elijah walked into the bedroom, the steam from the bathroom slipping into the small room like a scene from an old horror movie. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and then stood up again. His muscles were twitching and restless. Frustration and anger burned through him with the need to do something, anything.
He was a cop, he should be able to find a clue as to what had been going on, something that had been missed, he argued with himself. But if Michael had been doing this for a while, it could go one or two ways. Either Michael would get lazy and complacent and make a stupid mistake, or he’d be too clever at covering up his tracks.
Elijah put his hands behind his head and stretched his back out, anger still fuelling him. He paced the floors until he wasn’t sure if he was seeing the definite line of tread where he had been walking or if it was all in his head.
“Why?” he said to himself, his thoughts on Michael and what he hoped to achieve by doing this to his wife. What would he gain from mixing her meds and making her crazy? Would he really be so angry about their affair to go to such lengths?
She hadn’t done anything wrong, he had to get her to see that. He had to get her away from Michael before she cracked and there was no bringing her back from the dark abyss of her mind.Is that what Michael was hoping for? Had he meant for her to kill herself? Or had his sick little game just gone too far?Elijah wondered with sickening dread.
He had to help her, save her.Free her! Elijah thought as he continued to pace the room angrily. He’d not been able to help his mother when his father had hit her, a drunken rage turning into a sober apology with bitter promises broken before the end of day. He hadn’t been able to help her. Instead he’d been told to hide. And he had.
‘Hide in the wardrobe, Elijah. Hide and don’t come out.’
‘I don’t want to leave you, mommy.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I can protect you, I’m a big boy now.’
‘No, just go.’
But he wouldn’t run and hide from this. He wouldn’t let Michael get away with this. He’d help her. He’d protect her. He’d save her. No matter what the costs.
And finally Elijah let go of his rage.
Elijah grabbed the crappy old TV off the stand and threw it across the room. He felt both satisfaction and guilt as it smashed into the corner in a sprinkling of glass and a creak of metal. But still the rage burned on. He kicked the drawers that housed his only change of underwear and the sweaty polo shirt he had arrived in. He kicked it on the side, finding the same guilty satisfaction at the sound of his foot hitting the hollow wood. He kicked and kicked until his foot broke through the cheap wood and smashed through to the middle, slashing up the side of his leg, his foot almost getting lodged inside.
He pulled his foot out and blood dripped across the floor. He stormed around the room, grabbing the chair that sat in the corner. It was a musty old thing that had seen better days. He grabbed it and threw it, and then he grabbed the pillows off the bed and threw those. It wasn’t even about the item or the noise or the destruction anymore.
It was the frustration.
The satisfaction.
The feeling of helplessness washing away as he took back some control of the situation.
Elijah finally stopped, feeling breathless and exhausted. He slumped to the floor beside his bed, his back pressed against it. He put his head in his hands and he cried. Real tears. Real emotions. For the first time in twenty years, Elijah let it all go.
