Silent Child

by Sarah A. Denzil

  Because he was wrong about me.

  I wasn’t a broken bird always coming back for a beating. I wasn’t someone he could break over and over again without a fight. I’d never fought because he’d never given me anything to fight. He’d taken the best of my life and tossed it away but he’d never shown me what I needed to be shown. He’d never revealed himself for the person he really was. But now that he had, I could fight him. I finally had a physical manifestation of all the pain I’d suffered for the last decade.

  When he rushed at Aiden with the knife, I knew what I had to do.

  As Aiden cowered away from Jake, I threw myself between them, holding my hands up to shield my son. Jake’s knife caught the palm of my hand and I screamed as it tore through my skin. But I didn’t give up. I pushed against the knife with one hand, my skin sliced open by the blade, and reached up to hit Jake on the nose with the other.

  The blow caught Jake off guard and he staggered back, giving me a slight reprieve. My injured hand was covered in blood but I couldn’t let my eyes linger on the wound, because Jake was readying himself for another attack.

  “I was going to kill you last,” Jake said. “But this works too.”

  The sparkling glint of anger in his eyes had changed to a dull, grim determination. I knew he was stronger and bigger than me, but I also knew I wanted to live—for both of my children. I quickly checked around me for weapons, but there wasn’t anything, only a TV remote and a magazine. Even the lamp was on the other side of the room with Jake blocking my way. He came at me again, throwing his force against me and pushing me back, colliding with my pregnant belly in a way that made me gasp for breath. But I managed to throw my weight to my right side, duck beneath his armpit, and then push him full force with both hands, hissing with pain as my injured hand made contact with his side.

  Jake tumbled to the floor but he still had hold of the knife. I knelt down on his chest and pressed on his wrist with my full weight, but my fingers were slippery with blood. Jake hit me across the face with his free hand, a blow so hard I felt a crunch in my nose. I ignored it, and sank my teeth into his wrist. Jake beat the back of my head and roared with pain. My mouth filled with the rusting taste of warm blood. I sank my teeth deeper and deeper until I felt his grip loosen on the knife.

  He finally managed to throw me back, but I took a chunk of his wrist with me and a spray of blood hit me in the face. My bloody fingers couldn’t grip the knife and it flew from my hand to the back of the room. Jake, face sweaty and contorted, lifted his leg and I recognised that he meant to kick me in the stomach. I rolled to the right and struggled up onto my feet.

  “Aiden, we need to go!”

  My son was sat on the sofa, his eyes wide and his face set in horror. I quickly wiped away some of the blood from my mouth as Jake climbed to his feet, holding his wrist.

  “Just let us go, Jake,” I pleaded. I was prepared to do anything to keep myself and my children alive.

  “I can’t do that, Emma.”

  As he ran towards me, I saw the bloodied statue that Jake had used on Rob. I ducked down and scooped it up as Jake’s punch missed my face by inches and connected with my shoulder instead. The force almost knocked me off my feet, but Jake was sporting a deep injury on his wrist and that had slowed him down, so I was able to lift the statue and throw it at him. Jake’s expression was filled with surprise as the heavy, stone figure hit him squarely on the chin before falling onto his foot. He was still screaming from the pain as I threw myself sideways at him. We tumbled to the carpet, Jake pushing my face up to the ceiling away from him, groping for my neck. I managed to find the warrior statue and took it in both hands as Jake’s fingers wrapped around my throat.

  I lifted the stone figure and a pop of anger exploded inside me. I wanted him dead. This was the man who had lied to me every day. He’d violated my trust. He’d stalked me when I was a vulnerable young woman. He’d murdered my parents and tried to murder my son, all so he could break me and mould me into whatever he wanted. He had controlled me and hunted me. There was a lot of hate inside me and a lot of anger, and the taste of his blood in my mouth wasn’t enough. I wanted to see him suffer.

  I brought the statue down onto his head and his hands loosened. I lifted it and did it again. This time, Jake’s hands fell from my throat. A trickle of blood rolled down his forehead until it pooled on the carpet and in his ear. I lifted the bust again.

  And then I stopped.

  Aiden was singing.

  It was the same song I’d heard while I was arguing with Rob. His voice was soft. He sang high notes with ease, rising and falling with the melody. He had a beautiful voice, like a choir boy’s voice, and it made me cry. I dropped the statue and climbed off Jake whilst holding my pregnant bump. Jake was still. I’d killed him. I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to calm myself, before I bent down and searched for Jake’s mobile phone. It wasn’t there. I glanced across at the house phone on the corner table of the room. The wire had been cut.

  “Aiden,” I said. “We need to go now.”

  But Aiden wasn’t on the sofa anymore. He was standing by the door of the room staring at me. His mouth opened and closed to sing the quiet song, and tears trickled down his face. I stepped towards him, holding out my hands for him to take.

  “Aiden.”

  He backed away from me. That was when I realised that Aiden wasn’t scared of Jake anymore—he was scared of me. His eyes flicked from me to the corridor and back to me in rapid motion, and I realised he was thinking of a way to escape.

  “We’ll go together, Aiden,” I said. “I’m going to find a phone and call an ambulance and the police, then I’m going to see if your dad and Josie are okay. Then we’re going to go and wait in the car for the police to come. Is that okay with you, Aiden?” I didn’t want to spend a second longer in this house.

  But his song only grew louder. His body was trembling and he shook his head. He glanced back to the corridor.

  “You can’t go out that way,” I said. “The door is locked.”

  Aiden clenched his fists and ran at me. His sudden movement took me completely by surprise, which was why he managed to knock me off my feet. My stomach cramped with another contraction, which gave Aiden time to search through Jake’s pockets and retrieve the key for Josie’s front door. By the time I’d managed to sit up, Aiden had disappeared from the room and I could hear the key in the lock.

  “No!” I called, but it was no use, the door was open.

  I hurried over to the corner where Jake had kicked my broken phone. The screen was smashed, but I could still scroll through the options. I pulled myself up onto my feet and hurried through the corridor where Rob was laid out on the carpet. I bent low to check his pulse.

  When Rob lifted his head I almost cried out. “Follow… him…” he croaked.

  I nodded. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  It hurt my heart to leave him there, but I had to follow Aiden. I hurried out of Josie’s house as fast as I could, dialling 999 on the phone. Luckily Aiden hadn’t thought to lock me in the house.

  “I’ve been attacked at my friend’s house,” I said after the operator took my call. “My husband attacked my ex-boyfriend. I think he’s badly hurt, I don’t know. He’s hurt my friend… I think she’s tied up upstairs but I haven’t seen her. He could have killed her. I think I killed him, my husband. I hit him with a statue but it was because he was going to kill my son. He had a knife. We need an ambulance. I have to go. My son has run away.” I relayed the address and hung up, not even bothering to give my name.

  As I hurried down the gravel path, I could just make out Aiden’s form moving through the dark. He was heading down towards the road. I rushed along as fast as I could whilst scrolling through my phone. I had to call DCI Stevenson. He was the only one who knew the case.

  He answered on the first call.

  “It’s Emma. Jake attacked me, Rob, and Aiden. I think I killed him. He’s at Josie Barratt’s house. Aid
en has gone running off. I’m following him.”

  “No. Emma, stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

  “I have to follow him.” I stopped as another contraction rippled through me. I had no idea how often they were coming. Every five minutes? I couldn’t tell.

  “Emma? Are you all right?”

  “I’m in labour.”

  “Shit. Stay where you are. We’ll have an ambulance—”

  “I’ve already called it.” Up ahead, barely visible in the pouring rain, Aiden took a sharp turn away from the road. I staggered down the steep hill to see better. “I think Aiden is heading into the woods.”

  “Rough Valley?” Stevenson asked.

  “Yeah. I think he’s going to go in.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Did you find the garage?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Good,” I replied, and hung up. I couldn’t keep up the pace while I was distracted by talking.

  I saw Aiden slow down as he entered the boundary into Rough Valley. He seemed to be trying to figure out which direction to take. That suggested that there was somewhere he wanted to go. There was a purpose to him entering the woods.

  My shoes slipped down a grassy bank as I followed him towards the dark, thick trees. It was muddy underfoot. My clothes were soaked, but at least the downpour had washed away most of the blood from my face. My head was throbbing from Jake’s fists, my hand was sore and bleeding from the deep cut across my palm, but I was determined to keep my boy within eyeshot. He had been taken from me ten years ago, and I was not going to allow that to happen again. I never wanted to let him out of my sight ever again.

  I hurried into the trees. The wet grass stuck to my jeans. I was moving as fast as I possibly could, given the circumstances, and I couldn’t help but wonder if any woman had been through anything like this while being in labour. Then I realised, of course they had. Of course. Women gave birth in war-torn countries. Women were forced to run for their lives. Children survived the most horrific of circumstances. Humans are strong, resilient, and determined creatures. I gritted my teeth and staggered on, determined that my baby would wait for me. I could hang on and hang on until I was sure Aiden was going to be safe, too.

  The sun was beginning to set. Rain hammered down onto the fallen leaves, turning the ground into mulch. Despite the freezing rain, I was warm. The effort of moving faster than my pregnant body was accustomed to had taken its toll, and my muscles ached, but I was resolute in my purpose. I would find my son. I would take him to safety.

  He moved swiftly, and that made it difficult to follow the back of his red jumper. I kept thinking about the day they pulled his red coat from the river. That wouldn’t happen today. It would never happen again, I’d make sure of it.

  Aiden slowed down and made three jagged turns in opposite directions. I could see that he was trying to figure out where to go.

  “Aiden!” I called. “Please don’t be scared, just let me walk with you.”

  He turned to stare at me. Ghoul-like in the dark forest, his pale face contrasted against the almost pitch-black background of the close thicket of trees.

  “Talk to me,” I said. “I know you can. Please talk to me and tell me what you’re trying to do. I want to help you.”

  But he didn’t speak. He went back to moving through the trees. Slipping through them like a spectre.

  A contraction tore through me and I doubled over in pain, trying my best to ignore it so I could follow Aiden through the forest. To my surprise, after the pain had faded, I looked up to see Aiden had stopped. He was facing me. When I was recovered, he started moving again.

  He wanted me to follow him.

  43

  Sometimes, when I hold Aiden close, I imagine that I can smell the scent of the forest from that night. It’s not a completely pleasant smell. There’s the fresh scent of pine and rainwater, but along with it comes the must of wet leaves, the mildewed earthiness of mud, and the metallic hint of blood. A shivers runs down my spine every time I remember that night, and how my clothes were sodden from the rain. My feet ache from the memory of slipping through wet leaves and mud. I’m reminded, by the constriction in my chest, of how short of breath I was. My abdomen clenches as I remember the pain of my contractions.

  Would I prefer to be able to hold my son and not think of these things? Of course. As much as I’d like to close my eyes without seeing Rob’s blood on Josie’s corridor tiles or Jake’s dull, determined gaze as he approached me with Hugh’s hunting knife.

  As I followed my son through the forest, I knew that whatever it was Aiden wanted to show me, it would change everything. Part of me was dreading that change. Part of me ached for it. I needed answers, and Aiden was the key to those answers, as he had always been.

  But it seemed right that the journey was as arduous as it had been. This was Aiden’s story, not mine, and it had been long and harrowing for him, so to live through even the smallest iota of the kind of pain he had endured made me feel closer to him. I slowly began to close the gap between us, and I longed to slip my hand into his and feed from the warmth of him, but I knew not to.

  I was in labour. There was no doubt about that. The contractions were frequent, but my labour with Aiden had been stretched out over many hours, so I could only hope that Aiden had time to show me what he needed to show me before we found the police.

  But the pain was worsening as I continued on through the woods. I had to stop and clutch a tree as another contraction pulsed through me. “I… can’t… keep… up. Aiden.”

  I felt my phone buzz from the pocket of my soaked jeans, but I ignored it. No doubt DCI Stevenson was hoping to get me to stop what I was doing and turn back. But there was no going back now. I wouldn’t be able to find my way out of this place even if I wanted to. All I could do was follow my son as the forest grew ever darker.

  Aiden stopped. His head turned left, then right, and I sensed that he had seen something that he recognised. There was a very tall birch to my right, set up on a slight mound. Aiden regarded that tree long enough to make me wonder if he had seen it before. I took a moment to stop and catch my breath as my son collected himself. I examined the wound on my hand. It would need stitches, but the bleeding had slowed down. I felt light-headed and tired, but I wanted to press on.

  He stepped onto a narrow path next to a shallow drop. After passing a row of half a dozen trees, the path widened out into a clearing. Rough Valley forest was a tangled heap of trees and roots, which is why the clearing was surprising. Most of the land was owned by the National Trust, but the Trust had sold off pieces of land to property developers hoping to create more homes in Bishoptown. There’d been a mediocre protest about the plans but most people didn’t really care about the forest. It wasn’t a pretty place. It was dark and overgrown, and walking through it sent a shiver up your spine. It wasn’t a place for dog-walkers and hikers.

  Aiden carried on through the clearing and I followed, almost tripping on a smooth and slippery patch underfoot. I turned around to see what it was. It looked like a few trees had been felled around here. I’d slipped on the stump left over. I pressed on, trying to catch up with Aiden. He seemed to know exactly where he was heading now. Whatever this place was, he knew it, and he traversed it with ease.

  I held onto my bump as I continued into the centre of the clearing, silently willing the child inside me to stay put for a while longer. I’d already put that child through hell, but I had to push those thoughts from my mind as I watched Aiden. He was acting strangely. He seemed to be kicking leaves, which was not something I was expecting him to do after the struggle back at the Barratts’ house. I was beginning to wonder if he had finally cracked. Then my paranoid mind conjured up the idea that it was some sort of signal, and that Aiden’s kidnapper was about to stride out from the trees with a machete to cut the baby out of my belly. But it was none of those things. Aiden was clearing the leaves away from some sort of door built into the ground. I could
see it poking out of the earth now. It was perhaps three or four feet high, and built into a natural slope. I moved over to help Aiden clear leaves, branches, and mud away from the opening.

  “Didn’t want anyone to see.”

  I staggered back. My hands were trembling. It was the first time I had heard my son speak. It was the first time I’d heard his voice, his speaking voice, and not the strange, high-pitched singing voice.

  He sounded like a teenager and that brought me almost to my knees. Yes, I’d come to see Aiden as older than the little boy taken from me ten years ago, but with his diminished size I still hadn’t thought of him as sixteen years old. Then he spoke and suddenly he was almost a man. It wasn’t a deep voice, but it wasn’t a child’s voice either.

  I stood stupidly next to the strange door with my mouth opening and closing. I wanted him to do it again, but I didn’t want to frighten him. He was in some sort of trance and I was concerned that if I spoke, I would break the spell that had been cast over the still forest that night. The only sound was the rustling of leaves as Aiden cleared the leaves away. When he was done, he clutched the handle and pushed.

  “Still open.”

  This time I pounced on his words and committed them to memory. Joy flooded through my veins and my heart swelled. I’d waited so long to hear his voice.

  He had to push the door hard, and the hinges squeaked as it opened, but I could see that it had been used often. The moonlight glinted on the dark metallic surface. This was it. This was what Aiden had been painting in therapy. This was the dark grey from his nightmares. On the other side of the door was where Aiden had been held captive for ten years. I tried to steady my breathing.

  There was a step down, cut out of the slope of the hill. Once I stepped down, the door wasn’t quite so small, and I was able to follow Aiden through that small, metal door, by ducking my head down. I was careful not to touch the handle. This was important, now. This was the part where all the pieces would come together and I would finally get justice for Aiden.