Paris Hemsworth's Road to Wonderland (Road to Wonderland Series Book 2)

by Marlow, Francesca

  “That’s it,” I lie.

  “Paris…”

  There’s nothing he can say or do that is going to make me feel any better. There’s nothing anyone can do. “I’ve got to go. Bye.”

  I hang up the phone quickly. I know the blame for this lies with me. I provoked Daggs and wound him up so badly that he had to vent it somewhere. I shouldn’t have pushed him so far, knowing full well what he is capable of. This is my life now. I can't live with him and I can't live without him, no matter how hard I try.

  Thirty

  2nd Feb 2006

  Walking into work after another bout of ‘sickness’ never gets easier. In fact, it gets harder and harder every time. The looks, the whispers, the pity… It’s becoming unbearable, and Ethan isn’t daft. I’m certain he will figure it out soon. He’s been in my shoes; he knows the signs. My only saving grace lately is his trip to Italy with Scott and his brother, Dean. It’s helped alleviate a bit of pressure, although Sapphire and her eagle eyes are still everywhere. Every day that passes, my fear towards Daggs grows stronger. There’s a constant need within me to be on my best behaviour, to be quiet and do as I’m told like an errant child. The only thing that calms my nerves is drugs. There aren’t many hours in the day that I’m not high. Being heavily self-medicated is the only way I can deal with him on a daily basis.

  Just as I’m about to duck into the dressing room, Ethan calls out my name from across the dance floor.

  “Paris, you got a minute?”

  “Sure,” I mutter under my breath as my shoulders sag. Being called into his office isn’t a good sign. I’ve been struggling lately to hide the situation. As I shuffle my way over, my hand rubs at my temple to ease the pressure of the conversation I’m possibly about to face, and I wish we didn’t have to do this. My feelings have become so suppressed these days that having any in depth conversation is difficult.

  “Close the door and take a seat.” Ethan points to the chair in front of his desk, which he’s now sat behind. Doing as he asks, I stay quiet, shut the door and slump into the chair dropping my bag down by my side.

  “I’m just going to cut to the chase.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. He appears agitated and pissed off. “There’s been a random locker check, Paris.” He clenches his hands together in a fist so tight I can see the whites of his knuckles, and the realisation of what’s coming begins to sink in. “You brought drugs into my club. The one thing I said not to do. This can’t go on. I can’t have that shit in my club, especially not around Scott and me. He’s fucking going mental. He’s insisting I should fire you.”

  “Ethan, I…”

  “No. Just listen.” He cuts me off and stands up. “You’re never going to find the answers to your life in the bottom of a bag. I wasted so much of my time on drugs, angry and hurt at life that it nearly cost me my own. I’m worried that if this continues, you won’t be so lucky. Life is precious, Paris, and you deserve so much more. I know you and I have had a run in previously, but I’d like to think we’ve become friends and as your friend, I can’t sit back and watch you do this to yourself.”

  Listening to him speak creates a small lump in my throat. I’m touched by his genuine concern, which only makes me feel even guiltier for bringing drugs into his club. I’ve always known how much he despises them, yet I didn’t give our friendship or his club enough respect to quit it. He walks around the desk and continues to speak. “You need help.” He places his hand on my shoulder, which instinctively causes me to flinch. Quickly moving his hand, he crouches down by my side and lowers his voice. “Paris, look at me.” There’s a small tremble to my body as I slowly tilt my head to the side, my eyes flickering in all directions but at him, too racked with shame and guilt to grace his eyes with the look he so deserves. “Paris, tell me you understand what I’m saying?”

  His words of kindness play over in my mind and something deep inside spurs me on to make eye contact with him. The genuine look of concern written all over his face does nothing to help my guilt, but my heart begins to melt with a feeling I’ve not felt for a long time. Appreciation. He obviously believes I have a chance of fighting the situation I’m in, but the thing is, it’s not just a battle against drugs. There’s Daggs, too. I so want to believe there’s a possibility for me to turn my life around, but it’s not enough. I can’t risk everything on one man’s word to help, and it’s not Ethan’s fault. I just find it hard to trust anybody.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. You just don’t know how strong you are until you try.”

  “Daggs… He… I just… can’t.”

  He stands again and it feels like he’s giving up on me already, until he stretches over his desk to turn the laptop around for me to read the screen. The first thing that screams out is the title, ‘Rehab Today’. He’s totally serious about this. I’m about to speak when the door behind us creeps open and one of the bar tenders peers around the corner. “Sorry, boss, but there’s been a mix up with one of the deliveries.” He looks from Ethan to me and offers a flat smile like he knows what’s going on. I quickly turn my head away from his direction in embarrassment. Ethan sighs heavily.

  “Okay, mate, be there in a minute,” he replies. “I won’t be long. Please just stay here and read the website.”

  With that, he leaves the room and all I can do is stare at the title, but something inside me is stopping me from reading on - probably fear of allowing myself to dream of a brighter future without drugs or Daggs. As my eyes skim over the screen, certain words peak my interest… Support, family and friends. Where are all mine? I don’t have any of that anymore, and I have no one to blame but myself. However, I do have Ethan. He cares enough to offer me an olive branch. I wish I had faith in myself the way he has faith in me. Could Ethan and Georgie really get me through this? Can I dare to believe?

  Maybe I owe it to Ethan to at least try. If he’s taking a risk then maybe I should, too. I notice there’s a phone number, but I can’t ring because I still don’t have a mobile phone. I could use Ethan’s office phone, but he’s not here to ask and I don’t want to use it without asking. However, there’s an email address. I could contact them that way. I still have my old email, if I could just remember the password. Clicking on a new screen, I rack my brain for the password to log in, trying all different combinations.

  Goose1982

  Paris1982

  Hemsworth1982

  Then it flashes in my mind like a lightning bolt…

  ParisIzzy1986

  I’m in! The first thing I notice is the thousands of emails. No doubt it’s all junk, but then there’s one name close to the top that captures my attention. Izzy Moffit. My heart instantly contracts in a million different ways. It squeezes so tightly, it feels like it’s going to explode. It takes a few moments to sink in as I re-read the name over and over. Izzy Moffit. Izzy Moffit. She’s sent me an email, and only yesterday by the looks of the date. While my finger hovers over the mouse to click it open, I start to remember all the things I used to believe about fate. What are the chances of me logging into this account after a few years and her having sent me an email? Is this the sign I’ve been longing for? It’s been so long… What if it’s bad news?

  My curiosity gets the better of me, no matter how damn apprehensive I am to open it. One thing I’m desperate to know is if she’s happy and well, then all of this won’t have been for nothing. Letting her go live her life was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make, no matter how much it was dressed up with stubbornness. Despite Daggs not letting me have a new phone, there have been times when I could have tried harder to find her, but something deep inside told me I had to let her go.

  Knowing Ethan could walk back in at any point; I shift forward in the seat and click ‘open’ on the email. There’s so much information to take in, but certain things stand straight off the page.

  I’ve tried so hard to respect your wishes of no contact.

  I always did admire your braver
y.

  There will always be a home under my roof for you. There will always be a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

  I have some good news. I’ve recently bought a new home.

  I feel happy here.

  I’ve finally found my Casa. It can be yours, too.

  I love you.

  P.S. I’ve sent you the address

  I’m stunned that after all this time she’s under the impression that I was the one who wished for no contact between us. She never called either, but that seems so irrelevant to the rest of it. She says she loves me and wants to see me, that she’s still missing me as much as I miss her. It saddens me to think she’s always admired my bravery, yet here I am, sat without a shred of strength left to fight the situation I’ve dragged myself into. It makes me wonder what she would think or say if she could see me now?

  But most of all, my friend is happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wished for when it comes to Izzy. I would fight to the ends of the Earth to make sure she is safe and well, so why did I lose sight of that fact? The lump that builds in my throat and the water that wells in the dark circles of my eyes stings as I try to fight off my reality. I’ve sunk so low since I left her. There’s so much I’ve lost sight of over the years, so much regret and remorse I carry around daily. But the moment I allow myself to think or feel something again, Daggs grabs me in a tight, vice-like grip and sucks it back out of me.

  As the tears streak down my cheeks, I finally allow myself to want something.

  I want to be back with Izzy.

  I want to request a fly by.

  Hearing voices from behind the door makes me push the ache of my heart to the back of my mind, and I quickly scrub at my face with my sleeve to remove any evidence of emotion. I hurriedly grab a piece of paper and a pen, scrawl down the address she’s left me and shut down my emails. Bending over, I snatch at my bag and shoot up from my chair.

  “Sorry about that,” Ethan apologises as he walks back into the office.

  “Ethan, I’m so sorry. I have to go.” Not giving him a chance to respond, I brush past him, run out of the door and out of the club. The last thing I need to do is face any more talk about what lies ahead of me. My mind is scrambled and I desperately need to get out and find a place to breathe, a place to properly think over the things I’ve read. It all just seems so surreal. I even pinch my arm to make sure I’ve not completely lost the plot or imagined the whole thing.

  After all this time, without judgment, question or hesitation, Izzy still loves me. I start to feel something else I haven’t felt in a long time, too.

  Hope.

  *******

  Strangely, the only place I’ve found where I can breathe again is at the end of Izzy’s street. I couldn’t stop myself from going to see where it was she was living. I promised myself I wouldn’t get too close, but just knowing she wasn’t too far away made me more and more curious. I so desperately wanted to get a glimpse of her face, to see for myself if she was as happy as the email suggested.

  I’ve hung around this place all morning, but the only person I’ve seen come and go is the old, grey-haired lady who appears to live next door. For a brief moment, I wonder if I've got the right address, or whether I wrote it down wrong in my rush to get out of the club. Now the shock has had the chance to settle in, it’s been replaced with a need to see my best friend. The only problem I have is that I’m on a limited time span with Daggs. There’s only so long I can leave his side without him questioning where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to, but somehow the risk seems worth it. It might sound utterly crazy, but if I get one look at her, it just might fill the gaping hole of loneliness that resides in my heart.

  As the time to go home draws nearer, I take one last long at the house she’s bought. It’s a red-bricked end terrace with a black door. The garden looks a little overgrown, and to be honest, it doesn't look anything special, but Izzy always was understated. I’m itching to get inside and see what the decor is like. I’m just intrigued to see what she’s done with the place and what makes it so special to her that she’s as happy as she is. The more my mind wanders the more questions I have about her life and what she’s been doing. Does she still see my mum? Does she have a boyfriend? She didn’t mention a husband or children, but it’s quite possible she could have them. We’re almost twenty-four now. Isn’t that the path we’re meant to take?

  Pulling the zip up on my leather jacket, I stuff my bitterly cold fingers back into my pocket and head back to my bike, a few streets away. I don’t want to take the risk of her seeing it and knowing I’m hanging around. The last thing I want is to give her, and myself, any false hope that one email can change things. As much as it’s given me a little faith that she still cares for me, it is completely outweighed by the fear of having to leave Daggs.

  When I make it back to the apartment, he’s sat on the sofa and it’s clear we have a guest. Jules. He’s the guy who fixes the books for them. If I had to choose a person from the lot of them who I thought was anywhere near decent, it would be him. He seems like a good guy, just in a bad situation. But just like me, there is no escaping this life we’re so tightly wound up in. I can’t even find any peace in this damn apartment. There’s no thinking space, no breathing space. Everything I had has been sucked out of me. Most of the time, I’m suffocating. I can’t wait for the day he gets caught out and thrown in jail, where he belongs. Maybe then I’ll have a chance at fighting for a new life - a happier, calmer one.

  I keep quiet as I move around. Daggs hates it if I ask questions or interfere, so the best place for me is the bedroom, out of the way. When in there, I slowly shut the door and creep over to the wardrobe to pull out my special box to place the piece of paper with the address back inside. There’s an old picture of Izzy and I from when we were at university, and as ever, it brings a smile to my face. If only we knew back then what we know now. Would we have done things differently? It was taken not long after we started in our new room, with Lori. We thought we were going to change the world. I thought it was the fresh start I was looking for, but even my stupid actions back then put paid to my happiness. I’m my own worst enemy at times. I should have kicked my stubbornness to the curb and leaned on those around me that were offering to help. I’ve accepted I’m the only person to blame for the situation I’m in, just like I’ve accepted I’m the only person who can now get me out of it.

  I’m about to slide the box back onto the shelf when a loud bang comes from the door and a hell of a lot of shouting causes me to drop it to the floor, its contents splayed across the carpet.

  “Police! Drop your weapons and get down on your knees.”

  My heart leaps out of my mouth at the same time as I lunge forward towards the wardrobe door to take cover. There’s so much shouting and chaos that my brain can’t process it all. I have no clue what is being said or done. My instinct just tells me to take cover and hide. I curl my arms around my knees, pull them into my chest and drop my head down into my lap. My legs take on a mind of their own as they shake like a leaf. All I keep thinking is please don’t shoot me, please don't shoot me.

  The sound of the bedroom door being slammed against the wall echoes in my ears, along with the cries of the officers as they run in. I rock backwards and forwards in the corner of the room, unable to glance in their direction as all the happy memories from my childhood flash before my eyes. Izzy and I running around when we were kids, the treehouse, my dad throwing me in the air, my first attempt at riding a motorbike…

  “Police! Stay where you are and put your hands above your head,” one of them yells.

  But my body has gone into shock. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. All I can keep thinking is my life is over. I’ve wasted my life.

  “Now. Do it now!” he demands.

  It takes everything I have to raise my head, and when I do, I’m looking directly down the barrel of a gun. One pull of the trigger and my life will be over.

  Thirty-One

  4th
February 2006

  People talk about having epiphanies in their lives and it’s usually when something tragic happens. It triggers all these feelings on how to perceive the world differently. When my life flashes before my eyes and my heart fills with regret for the things I haven’t said or done, that’s when it hits me. I make a promise to God that if he lets me walk away from this moment alive, I will do everything I can not to waste another single second.

  That was two days ago, and words are so easy to say when you think you might die. Now, faced with the reality of my promise, everything seems so much harder. Daggs has been arrested for possession of drugs, and fortunately, the police let me go with a caution. They got what they were after and luckily for me, they took pity on me and set me free with a few words of advice - all of which consisted of leaving Daggs and getting clean. It’s becoming a regular thing to hear these days.

  The cell I spend time in is desolate, and all I can think about is the time Izzy was arrested for assault. Only now do I understand what she must have gone through and appreciate her down-beat attitude after she was released. Being left alone in four bare walls, with only your thoughts for company, is enough to drive anyone stir crazy. That’s why I’ve had to come and seek her out. While Daggs is away, it’s the perfect opportunity for me to try and escape. She’s the only one I can trust to help me. I need her now more than I ever have done in my life. I have to tell her how sorry I am for leaving her and for not understanding how she must have felt after the fight with Katy Palmer.

  As I stand pacing in circles on the corner of her street, I rub my trembling hands together to try and regain some feeling. The air has a late winter chill to it, which causes a slight sniff to my nose. Had I known I could have been waiting here for a while, I would have wrapped up a bit better, but the desperate need to see her killed all common sense. I’ve always loved to watch people. They all seem nice around here, although I have encountered one or two funny looks from some, which makes me think my time is running out. If I don’t spot her soon, I may have to come back another day.