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

by Marlow, Francesca

  I grab my keys, helmet and jacket and make my way out of his house, taking the stairs two at a time. If I remember rightly, he still lives with his parents and it would be so awkward to bump into them. Although, it’s going to be awkward enough bumping into Ben at work now, too. How the hell do I keep landing myself in these stupid situations? I fly out of the door as fast as I can and onto my bike. It’s safe to say my mind is all over the shop. I just need to get home to Izzy.

  While being kept awake with my thoughts last night, I also realised how selfish I’ve been in not telling her about the letters. She could be in danger, too. I’ve been trying to protect her by keeping the truth from her, but really, all I’ve done is send her out into the big, wide world, completely unprepared for what could be lurking around the corner. It’s about time both of us found some protection.

  My thoughts are with Izzy.

  My mind is trying to concentrate on the road.

  My heart… well I think that’s back in 1999.

  The adrenalin begins to pump with the roar of the engine as I weave through the streets to get back to Casa. When I see a red light in the distance, a crazy notion runs through my head as to whether I would be able to run it. I saw a girl do it once in a film. She was at a crossroads in her life and thought, if she survived getting through without being hit then that was God’s way of telling her she should live to fight another day.

  Something captures the corner of my eye and distracts me from the red light ahead. As I twist my head to the side, the headlights come speeding towards me out of a side street. Before I have any time to react, I feel the colossal impact against my bike, along with the loud screeching of tyres. My bike is slammed and I lose all control. My body hurtles through the air towards the pavement on the other side of me and I crash hard into the concrete.

  The slightest movement of my right arm causes darts of pain to shoot through my body. I can barely move my right leg for the pressure on top of it and my face is stinging like crazy. I try to roll my head to get a better look at my surroundings, but the last thing I see through my visor, as my body lies limp in the road, is a blurred vision of a black car driving off and a red light turning to green.

  Then my whole world turns to darkness.

  Thirty-Six

  June 2010

  All my senses have come to life as I live in the shadows of Manchester and avoid any possible area where Daggs could be seen or bumped into. All the time, my mind is in overdrive, trying to figure out his next move. Since spending three nights in Manchester Royal Infirmary with a few cuts, bruises and a big graze down the right side of my face, I haven’t been able to smile. I’ve barely been able to sleep. He didn’t just have me attacked that day. When Izzy and I spoke in the hospital, she told me she was attacked, too, in the park where she was running. I had to come clean and tell her everything, all about the threats, the letters. It was all a warning that he is always close and we will never be far from the hands of what he is capable of. Until the perpetrator of my suspected hit and run is put behind bars where he belongs, I don’t think I’ll ever quite be able to return to just casually walking the streets. Izzy, the police and I all know full well it was related to Daggs, but the lack of evidence means he’s currently roaming the streets a free man, and while that’s the case, our lives are in danger.

  I walk around this place every day with a death sentence hanging over my head for the mistakes I’ve made in the past. Even when I attempt to put on a brave face to Izzy, she knows me well enough to know that a brave face is all it is. So that’s why I have a new project now. When I was in the hospital, I begged her not to let the police crush my bike, no matter what state it was in. It’s one of the last links I have to my dad after losing the ring. It means the world to me, and it’s the one thing that’s keeping me busy.

  I’ve managed to rent a garage a few blocks away from the house, where I can go and try to fix it again, in between visits to the police station. Every other week, they are asking questions about Daggs. Now they know for sure I was involved with him for a few years, I’ve become their connection to his way of life. Only, that makes me even more of a target, which is even more reason to keep the bike hidden away. It would stand out like a sore thumb, and maybe next time I won’t get so lucky.

  I’ve been working on the bike most of today, tapping into the knowledge that my dad once taught me. Some of it floods back like it was yesterday and other stuff, not so much, but at least in this day and age we have YouTube for online tutorials. My Dad would be turning in his grave if he could see what I was doing. He used to have a tonne of manuals and books somewhere, but as with most of his stuff, I have no clue where it is. It would mean going around to visit Mum and John, who I’ve heard are still together and even in the same house. So much time has passed now and I’ve made such a mess of things, I’m not sure it’s possible to go back there. Although, Izzy and I are inseparable again, so maybe there is hope. Maybe there needs to be a will, too, and at the moment, I struggle to venture anywhere other than within a two-mile radius of Casa.

  The only other place I manage to go is to Narcotics Anonymous. Strangely, being sat with a number of like-minded fellow addicts is the one thing that keeps me sane. There’s something to be said for hanging around with people who are your own kind of crazy. These people know what it’s like to live with an addictive personality, the triggers that cause the cravings, the tiny pitter-patter of paranoia creeping across your brain in a dark room, and most of all, how easy it is to slip back into old habits. There’s been a few of them fall off the radar since I’ve been coming here, which makes me sad, because in a way, I’m not here just to save myself anymore. I like to think that maybe I’m helping someone else, too, the way I was supported in the beginning and still am. It gives me a sense of achievement I’ve not felt for four years and it motivates me to keep on fighting.

  As I make my usual way between the garage and the church hall, I have to tie my hair up into a bun on the top of my head. The baking heat from the sun is causing my cheeks to flush and I’m sporting a rather debatable tan line on my shoulder from my vest strap. The temperature does my paranoia no good as I constantly sway my head from side to side, always looking over my shoulder and fully aware of my surroundings. Everyone is a possible suspect in an attempt to get me, which is a ridiculous thought, but one that constantly prays on my mind. Is he working for Daggs? Is that old lady being paid to spy? Is that police officer as bent as they come? I try my best to remember the breathing techniques I once used when I first left the house after my attack.

  I’m on a beautiful, deserted beach with Moffy.

  The sky and the sea are blue, a tranquil view.

  The condensation trickles slowly down the cocktail glass, causing my mouth to water with anticipation of how refreshing it will taste.

  Water… That’s what I could use right now.

  I stop by the corner shop and all but throw myself inside to relieve my burning body from the sun. The air conditioning that the shopkeeper has blowing is a welcome breeze and one that causes me to moan out in pleasure a little too loudly. The smirk from the man doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s awkwardly flattering and kind of nice to know I still appeal to someone. At least my blush is disguised by the flush of the heat. As I open the fridge door to reach inside and grab a diet coke, my eyes wander to the magazines and newspapers stacked across the shelves. I remember when I used to practically buy the local shop out by Daggs’ apartment so that I could read Izzy’s articles over and over again. She was a comfort to me even when she didn’t realise it. It’s not something I’ve ever shared with her, but maybe I should. I think she might like to know. It’s just a shame the box is gone forever. They’re mementos from the past that I’ll never get to see again.

  I’m about to walk on by and attempt to face the shopkeeper, when something captures my interest out of the corner of my eye. There it is, in black and white, across one of the newspapers - his picture staring at me. It’s Daggs, lookin
g raging, with his hands cuffed behind his back. A police officer has his hands in his grip and is shoving him into the back of a car. I move closer towards the paper, cautiously. God knows why; it’s not like he can jump out of the page at me, but he’s there, in front of me and he’s been arrested.

  I can’t quite believe my eyes. My fingers teeter by the edges, deliberating whether to pick it up. How have the police not been in touch? Why haven’t we been told? All these questions flood my mind while I scan over the article, my head inching closer with each word I read. According to the article, a local gang member has been arrested for attacking a police officer with a knife while under the influence of drugs.

  More importantly... He’s going to prison.

  Sweeping the paper up off the shelf, I spin with it in my grip as a stunned, happy sigh leaves my mouth. The stupid bastard has got himself caught. For a moment, I allow my eyes to fall shut and my head to drop to my chest. There’s no stopping the tears that start to fall. After eight months of dragging myself out of bed and forcing myself to not allow him to control me anymore, eight months of living on the edge of fear that at any moment, my life could be taken from me, he’s finally been caught. For now, I’m free and I don’t know how to feel or how to react. I never thought this day would come. Neither did Izzy. We’ve been losing hope for a while. We’ve even discussed leaving Manchester, but we don’t have to do that now.

  I need to tell her.

  I have to get home.

  I keep on reading while my feet rush towards the counter, my smile growing with each step I take. The chill of the bottle in my hand has already subsided from the warm excitement that is close to bursting. Using my wrist, I rub my eyes to wipe away the tears. I’ve gone beyond embarrassment. I no longer care. I just want to get home and tell Mav the news. Dropping everything onto the counter, I stuff my hand deep into my front pocket to pull out some loose change.

  “Everything alright, love?” asks the guy.

  “Couldn’t be better,” I mutter as I rummage through the coins in my hand.

  “I’d hate to see you upset.” He chuckles.

  I give up and slam the coins down onto the counter at the same time as I lift my head and gaze back at him. “I think I just won the lottery.”

  Without giving him chance to reply, I grab the bottle and paper and all but run out of the shop and stop by the door when I hear him shout after me, “Don’t suppose you fancy going for a drink then?”

  “I’ll think about it.” I smile. For the first time in months, I genuinely smile from my mouth to my eyes. For the first time in months, I stand looking at the person in front of me and don’t wonder what his hidden agenda is. He’s nice and it’s appreciated, along with his rugged stubble and the glimmer of his deep, green eyes, which I hadn’t noticed before.

  “I’ll be waiting.” He smirks.

  “I just need to catch my breath.” I giggle.

  “Yeah, you’ll be needing that.” He winks.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go. Nice talking.” I wave and slip out of the door. Now I have no idea why the hell I’m flustered. It suddenly got a little too hot in there and I need to focus on what’s important – sharing the news with Izzy. She’s my priority at this moment, one that I’ve lost sight of previously in these situations, but not today. I just blew off an extremely good-looking guy, who was clearly flirting with me, to go find her. She’s been my rock through this entire thing, not ‘roc a fella’ in there.

  When I burst through the big, glass doors of the architectural firm where she works as a temporary receptionist, Izzy looks like she’s going to have a heart attack. It’s a Saturday and she’s working overtime, as usual, to help pay the bills.

  “Goose.” She stands and slides around the side of her desk to hurry towards me. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” she tries to whisper as she looks around.

  “They got him, Mav. They got him,” I cry and fling my arms around her to squeeze tightly.

  “They got him?” Izzy stutters as she stumbles back from the force of my embrace. Her hands find my back to steady herself. “Wait. What do you mean they got him?”

  Letting go, I shove the newspaper into her chest. “Here, just read. It’s Daggs, Mav. He’s going to prison. They finally caught him.”

  “What?” She quickly shuffles at the paper and I can see the eagerness in her eyes to read what I’m saying. “Oh my god,” she shouts. “They caught him, the silly bastard.”

  All the pent-up emotion from the past eight months works its way to the forefront and I can’t help but break down into tears in the reception lobby, unaware of and not caring who might be watching.

  “I can’t believe it.” I sob uncontrollably. “I just can’t.”

  The more I cry, the more I struggle to control it. Izzy throws her arms around me the way I used to do for her as a kid. Her hand smoothes over my hair as my head rests on her shoulder. Holding me close and tight, she repeats the words softly in my ear. “It’s over, Paris. It’s over.”

  We can finally start to breathe again.

  We can start to live.

  *******

  There’s no denying a weight has been lifted from my shoulders over the past two months. I didn’t fully realise just how heavily the situation was weighing on my life until it had gone. Twenty-eight years old and I’ve lived six years of that in fear of a man who I believed loved me, at one time or another. I bought into a lie that cost me more than most – a huge part of my life spent learning lessons I never want to learn again. Daggs being sent to prison was the line in the sand I needed, and I’m moving on the best I can, one day at a time. I’ve managed to get a part-time job at a bar in town. As much as working in the cafe was stable for me, I feel I’m ready to take the next step towards having a social life again. Pulling the pumps is like riding a bike, if I’m honest. I’ve not forgotten, and meeting new people is helping me discover a fun side of myself that has been buried for a long time.

  It’s Izzy’s last day as a receptionist and I’m actually quite shocked she lasted so long after going on a date with the owner’s son, Max Colton, and poisoning him with a chilli, but she has, despite how much she didn’t like it. She did it for us, to put a roof over our heads and food in the fridge. That’s why, when her old friend, Lauren Logan, rang and offered her some writing work, I couldn’t have been happier. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree and it warmed my heart in so many ways to see it. She’s finally found a job doing something she loves, which makes her happy, and it’s about time she started putting herself first. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. No amount of time has changed that fundamental fact. There’s nothing more beautiful on Izzy than her smile.

  I found out, not so long after she brought me to Casa, that Lauren helped her to find me when I was with Daggs. I’m glad she had someone like her for support in my absence. I’ll never be able to thank her enough for what she did for us, no matter how many tin cans I let her knock down with me in the back garden. She’s a hoot and the three of us have spent a couple of nights together, playing drinking games since I came home. She is, however, married to her job and that is her first love.

  Love comes in all shapes and sizes and many different measures. There are all kinds of love.

  Lauren loves her job.

  I love Izzy.

  Izzy loves writing.

  Lauren loves vodka and coke.

  I love cigs.

  Izzy loves nachos.

  But there’s one thing that we are all missing in our lives, and that’s the love of a man. I can’t say I’m ready to get emotionally close to any man yet, but I see it in Izzy. I’ve seen it for a while. She protects her heart by keeping it under lock and key. In all the time I’ve been back in her life, there has been no man to speak of, and if I’m honest, I’m worried she might be following in my footsteps when it comes to bedding men. I get the feeling she’s hiding more from me than she lets on, but I don’t push for answers as I don’t have the right to after
the way I left her. All I can do is hope that one day she will let me know why she struggles like I do to let someone close.

  So for now, I’ve taken the interfriendtion route. A pact has been made between the two of us that states if neither one of us has found love by the time we are thirty then the other one gets to intervene. Or more to the point, I’m giving her two years before I kick her arse into a happily ever after with Prince Charming, no matter how protective she is, because there is a man out there who deserves to see just how beautiful my friend is, inside and out.

  Thirty-Seven

  March 2013

  Friendship: Something that blossoms over time, where two people have a mutual respect and love for one another.

  It’s a beautiful thing when you get it right, knowing there is one person in the world there to support you when you can’t even support yourself. It doesn’t carry with it jealousy, only a deep rooted desire for the other person to be happy, because seeing them smile is the ultimate aim, along with fun and laughter.

  Izzy and I are lucky to have found a friendship that has lasted a lifetime. It hasn’t come easy. If only things were as simple to carry out in real life as they are to put down on paper, like in one of her books. Sometimes there are arguments, tears and even fighting, but it’s about compromise and respect for one another. We lost that along the way and for a long time we lost ourselves, but being back in each other’s lives has made us stronger than ever before, having learned from our mistakes. Or at least some of them.

  The fun and laughter have lasted for the two years we agreed on for the pact. It’s just a shame neither of us has found a happily ever after. Izzy clearly hasn’t learnt from her past, otherwise she wouldn’t be sleeping with Matt bloody Cooper again. It’s funny how life comes full circle sometimes. And me? I’m struggling to commit to anyone for longer than one night, and that’s if I’m in a good mood.