by Matt Shaw
I held Fiona close to my chest as she continued to weep. The thoughts of Jessica killing her own baby being too much for her - after our own child was still-born all those years ago? The thought of another dead baby? Or, perhaps, she’s crying because she knows what a big mistake Jess is making and doesn’t want her to regret it in years to come.
Fiona aborted her first child.
A conception, before she met, between her and her ex-partner; aborted because they were too young and it was an accidental pregnancy that neither of them were ready for.
Years later, when her second was still-born... she blamed herself, believing she was being punished for terminating the first child.
I hold her closer.
Perhaps she’s worried Jessica will have the same experience should she get pregnant again, years later? Her next child will also be born lifeless.
It’s times like these I wish I had more compassion in me. I feel bad for Fiona crying but, I don’t know what to say. Nothing I can say will make it better for her. It’s times like these I always rely on the calming influence of a hug.
A kiss on her forehead - further proof I’m here for her.
Her sniffles calmed a little and she pulled away from me, “We can’t let her do this.”
I felt the same but short of tying her to the bed - what choice did we have? It was, after all, her choice. And the boy has made his intentions clear of standing by her side, should she have chosen to keep it so it’s not as though she was worried about being alone.
I pulled her in close to me again and squeezed her tightly.
“It’s not for me to....”
“Please...”
I don’t say anything; just give her another squeeze and kiss her on the forehead.
“Okay, I’ll sort it.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” I confirmed - feeling my heart sink a little. A promise I’m not sure I can keep.
Unless....
3.
The middle of nowhere.
The perfect location.
The question is - do I make the house look looked in or do I make the house look as though it’s abandoned? Either has it’s pitfalls. If it looks lived in - strangers may come by and knock on the door for a number of reasons.... broken down and want to borrow the phone, trying to sell something.... trying to convince the occupants that God really does exist? And if the house looks as though it’s abandoned - we risk being discovered by squatters.
I can’t risk people coming by.
I can’t risk Jessica signalling them - looking at the worst case scenario. If she gets the attention of anyone it would be over. Over before it’s started.
The fact that the house is in the middle of nowhere, though, is definitely a plus.
Maybe have the house looking as though it’s lived in but try and hide the entrance to the driveway? Make it harder for people to even notice the house, behind all the trees, if they did happen to come down the quiet country-lane.
Mind you, I’ve been sat here for over an hour now and I haven’t seen any cars.
Really is the middle of nowhere.
This is the house.
I can feel it.
The beginning of the next chapter in our lives.
A pang of excitement washes through me.
Having bought this property at a reasonable price, the idea was to restore it to it’s former glory and sell it at a profit. Good location for those who prefer the countryside and a good sized building with a nice chunk of land with it. Could have been a hell of a profit made.
But some things are more important than money.
Like this.
This is more important.
A new life.
Besides, just means I can take my time restoring the building before selling it on in ten or eleven months time. A look at our finances - it’ll be tight but we can manage. And it will be worth it. So worth it.
I can just imagine holding the newborn now. I thought it was normally the women who got broody but - now I know it’s on the cards - I want this. Badly.
I climbed out of the car and fished for the house-keys, in my pocket, before letting myself in. A musty smell hits me. Nothing some air freshener won’t fix. Perhaps leave some plug-in ones in the house too - in all the different rooms to help the smell. It’s just where it’s been so empty for so long.
Even without spraying, or plugging, anything - the smell will soon disappear when the property becomes move lived-in.
As I have a quick look around the downstairs of the house, I had almost forgotten how much character this place had. I wonder, would Fiona want to sell our current place and move in here? Be nice to escape the town for a change. The noisy hustle and bustle of everyday life.
I stopped by the kitchen entrance and turned to another door, under the stairs - the cellar.
The perfect place.
I could probably sound proof down there - on the off chance we do get visitors all the way out here. It shouldn’t matter so much by the time she is living upstairs. I’ll only let her move up here when I’m comfortable she is happy with the situation.
I twisted the tatty handle and pushed the door open.
It creaked.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
I feel as though I’m part of a bad horror movie.
Does that make me the bad guy?
No.
She’s the bad person.
She’s the murderer.
I’m the good guy.
I’m trying to save the child.
I’m the good guy.
I’ll oil the door later.
I walked down the stairs, leaving the door open to help illuminate my path. If memory serves me correctly, the light-switch is on the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
Ha! Memory has served me correctly.
Flick the switch and the room lights up.
Perfect.
A good size.
I can fit a bed in here, easily. The previous owner even left a bed here too - a tatty bed which looks as though it needs replacing before it collapses permanently but, even so, it’s free and it’ll serve a purpose for now.
I’ll fetch that down here next. Bring some bedding from home. And then her. Bring her too. Everything else can wait. I’ll get her out of the house before Fiona comes back from her night shift at the hospital. Mind you, did she even go? She may have pulled a sicky - call in - too upset to help the needy, due to the news Jessica dropped on her. I wouldn’t blame her if she did phone in but.... it would certainly be an inconvenience.
This whole plan - be easier to get her on side if I’ve already done it.
Harder for her to say ‘no’ and try and convince me it’s not a good idea.
If she wants the baby - it’s the only way.
Jessica’s mind is made up. I can see that now.
Stubborn.
Well, I won’t let her kill the child.
And Fiona won’t stop me.
What if she isn’t happy with what I’ve done? What if she....
I want this baby.
She won’t stop me.
No one will.
Not her, not Jessica, not Darren.
No one.
It’s going to be a long night.
I flick the switch, plunging the room back into near darkness - thank God for the light from the hallway. Need to save electricity now. Watch the pennies.
* * * * *
“Please, no.....” I begged him as he put the final restraint on my ankle.
He looked at me - no words of comfort from his mouth. Just a black look in his eyes and a scary, expressionless face.
“I thought I could stay upstairs, with you....” I continued, trying to fight back my tears. Trying but failing. I hate it down here. I honestly thought, since allowing me upstairs to have a bath.... I honestly thought we were done with the cellar.
Done with the restraints.
I was wrong.
He stood up, once he
had me secured. I didn’t bother fighting him. There’s no point. He will only get mad with me and it will mean I’m down here longer.
“I wouldn’t have tried to run,” I said. “I promise.”
The truth.
“I’ll check on you in the morning,” he said as he turned back towards the stairs - and exit.
“Good night,” I said. A vague attempt to remind him I am, after all, his daughter.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs but didn’t look back at me.
“Good night,” he offered.
A quick hand movement and the light-switch was flicked off, turning the light off. Part of me wishes he had left it on. It’s creepy, down here, with the light on but it’s far worse with the light off.
“Maybe you’ll let me back out tomorrow, to have another wash?” I asked.
He disappeared up the stairs, closing the door behind him.
I’m alone.
Again.
Sort of.
If he does let me out, again, maybe I should just try and run. Run away from both of them - cut them out of my life. Report them to the police for what they’ve done to me.
The more I think about Darren, the more I miss him.
Perhaps he was serious about wanting to be with me. Serious about wanting to raise the child with me. Our child.
Our baby.
I looked down to my belly. Tried to sense the life within.
I can sense it.
I can sense it and a coldness washes through my body, sending a shiver down my spine.
“How can I love you when you’ve caused all of this to happen?” I asked it.
It didn’t answer.
It didn’t have to. I can’t love it. Whatever it is inside of me. I can’t love it. Not after this. Even if I got out of this and went to live my life - with the baby - every time I’d look at it.... every time I’d see this scenario again and again and again.
I can’t love it.
I won’t love it.
If I have to give birth to it - I’ll hate it.
I stop myself.
Maybe....
What if....
I might not need to give birth to it.
Not if I have a miscarriage.
4.
Another day of not going to work.
We need the money but, I can’t face it. I can’t face the other nurses asking how I am. Not just the nurses - sometimes the patients too. Asking how I am and asking how my family life is whilst I’m re-dressing their wounds or checking everything is okay with them. Nosey. Nosey people. Normally it wouldn’t bother me, what with them asking how I am but - not now - if anyone asked how things were, I’d probably break down in tears. I’d probably tell them everything. Tell everyone what I’ve done....
What we’ve done.
It wasn’t just me.
It wasn’t even my idea.
And Darren.
That was an accident.
I think.
Don’t think about it. There’s nothing you can do about it anyway. It’s done now. And if I could turn the clock back - I’d turn it right back to the point of Jessica not even meeting Darren. They’d be no Darren and no baby and none of this would have come to pass. Everything would be back to normal.
How it should be.
But could things ever go back - even if, in a make believe world, you could turn the clock back. All this time.... Bryan’s obviously had a darkness within him. If it wasn’t this, would something else have triggered him off?
Maybe I shouldn’t leave him alone with Jessica and the baby. What if she tried something stupid? How far, given this darkness.... how far would he go with her? When he showed me what he had done, by taking her - he suggested we both move into the house. Maybe that’s not a bad idea. Maybe we should all live there.
I can keep an eye on Jessica throughout the pregnancy.
I can keep an eye on him.
Yes.
That’s what needs to be done; move in and keep an eye on the whole situation before it gets out of hand. Well, further out of hand.
Slowly I climbed out of the marital bed. Hard to be enthusiastic about it. Would much rather stay in bed and pull the duvet over my head. Stay here, forever.
Blissful ignorance.
On the plus-side - getting dressed in the morning is a lot simpler since everything kicked off. I just wear what I wore yesterday. I don’t need to look at what I’m wearing, try and keep in with fashion, look nice for Bryan.... Since everything kicked off - I just seem to exist.
I picked my top off the floor and slid it over my head.
Already wearing underwear.
They’ll do one more day.
One more.
Trousers. Blue jeans that I wore yesterday. Again, they’ll do another day. A few squirts of perfume. They’ll do.
It’ll all do.
Brush my teeth and head off to the house. See him. See her. My daughter.
My daughter.
Jesus.
My daughter.
Reminded myself what we’re doing.
Stop it.
Stop doing this to yourself.
It’s done now.
No turning back.
Even if I did help her get away from him. There’s no turning back. She’ll report him. Probably me too. And if Jessica doesn’t turn me in - he will.
Especially after Darren.
Accident.
Damn this wandering mind.
I reach over to the bedside table and turn the radio on.
Music.
Music to my ears.
Increase the volume.
Some chart song that I don’t recognise. Music moving on again. Not necessarily my kind of tune but at least it drowns out my thoughts.
Poisonous thoughts.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
Just a couple of minutes.
A couple.
Help quieten my thoughts long enough to get to the car where I can listen to the radio again - full volume for the whole journey.... until I get to the house.
I have a headache.
Not quite sure as to whether it’s the loudness of the radio or the screaming thoughts. How much more of this do I have to endure?
* * * * *
The radio blared out tunes - some old and some new to me - the whole way here. An hour’s worth of driving, you’d have thought I would have had enough of the radio now but - no - I’m reluctant to turn it off. Reluctant to see if my thoughts come back into my head.
Reluctant to turn the car’s engine off and venture into the house.
Part of me wishes I could just drive off.
Keep driving.
Don’t come back.
But I can’t.
He’ll find me.
And I can’t leave her.... Jessica.
Can’t do it.
Or the baby.
I need to see this through now. No choice. He made sure of that.
I turned the engine off and opened the car door.
“I wasn’t expecting you today,” he said.
I jumped at the sound of his voice. So lost in my own mind that I didn’t see, or hear, him approach.
“Nice to see you too,” he laughed.
“You startled me,” I said.
“So, I see. No work today?”
I shook my head. He’d want me to carry on as though everything was normal but I can’t face it. Carry on - pretend everything is fine. It’s not fine and I can’t pretend otherwise.
“Well it’s good to see you!” he said as he threw his arms around me. I wasn’t expecting that but hugged him back. For the briefest of moments, in his arms, everything felt normal again.
