CHAPTER 48 ELODIE
ELODIE
I have no idea how to drive this car. I know how to drive, so I am – very fast too – but there’s a gazillion buttons in front of me and it’s terrifying. I’m keeping my fingers wrapped tightly around the wheel to avoid any clicks and tapping and I deploy a fucking parachute or something.
It wasn’t hard to figure out where Caden lives. From the several excursions I’ve had these past couple weeks, taking note of the road signs and motorways, it turned out he’s really not that far from my dad’s house. Perhaps an hour out. So I know this area pretty well.
I’m still running on adrenaline, still burning with rage and agony. It was so easy to escape I’m berating myself for not just doing it sooner.
I discovered the dogs sleep by the entrances.
Bruiser was by one of the main back doors that open to the forest behind.
Sarge sleeps by the garage door. That was a fun revelation.
I was so overcome with determination though I discovered didn’t find him that scary.
When I peeped him sleeping by the door, I ran back to get the dog treat jar in the kitchen.
Fiz and Bob were still passed out; they didn’t even stir once.
I woke Sarge up as I approached and dumped the whole jar on the floor. He inspected it long enough to make me worry that it wouldn’t work, but he is just another dog. He started digging in and I slipped straight past him.
I could have taken any of the cars, but the idea of stealing Caden’s was too tempting to pass up. My final fuck you to him. The only thing I’m sad about is that I won’t get to see his face when he notices I’ve stolen his car.
The front electric gates weren’t a worry. I had taken notice that they opened automatically each time a vehicle approached from the inside. I never saw any of the men press any buttons to open the gates, and I had been right. They’d swung open as I inched Caden’s car towards them.
It started raining a little while ago, and I’ve been driving for a little while longer than that, knowing exactly where I’m going now after half hour of driving blind.
I definitely shouldn’t be driving this fast, but the roads are dead, no one about at this hour.
I allow myself the reverie of being the only person alive in the world.
My muscles have started aching from the tension that just won’t unwind.
I don’t think they’ll fully unwind until I’m halfway across the world.
Not entirely sure how I plan to do that without a penny to my name but there we go.
I knew I fucked up after I was on the motorway.
If I wasn’t operating in self-preservation mode, I would have thought to use Caden’s computer to hack into my father’s accounts and drain them.
I may not have been able to get my own money back, but I could have taken Dad’s.
But then that would have given him a reason to come after me.
I’m only half-expecting Caden to come after me, hoping that when he notices I’m gone, he’ll find he’s happy to let me go, since I’m such a pest to him.
But something tells me it won’t go down like that.
He’s too proud, too hellbent on completing any and every challenge he’s faced with, including beating me into wifey shape.
Well, I’ll be miles away by the time he realises I’m gone.
He hardly even checks on me, so the only way they’ll even find out tomorrow is if Alfie bothers to check on me.
A tingle of excitement flutters through my belly at the wonder of how far away I’ll be when they discover I’m not in the house.
It takes a while to pass the road sign I’m looking for, taking the slip road and bringing the wild animal to a tame speed.
It’s a smooth ride, comfortable as hell.
I won’t mind travelling the world in this beast. I’ll have to get it cleaned with whatever money I can scrounge up.
It smells like him. It invades my senses and creates a nausea-inducing warmth in my chest.
There’re loads of ways to make money to survive off.
As a woman especially. If it came to it, I could whore myself.
Officially live up to the rumours that have stained my reputation already.
Ones I basically created for myself, anyway.
Can’t be that hard, right? Couldn’t be any worse than what I’ve already gone through.
I approach the wrought-iron gates and crawl to a stop. Of course, I knew the place would be locked up at this time of night, but I have no intention of letting that stop me.
I climb out the car, stuffing the keys in my pocket and searching the gate for somewhere safe to climb. The bars are rusted and sharp flakes of paint prick my skin as I stroke my hands across the bars.
More bars. Everywhere I go there’re just bars. Metaphorically or literally. At my dad’s, Caden’s, here. But these won’t stop me, either.
I walk quite far around the perimeter before the bars connect to a brick wall and I start to climb.
I jump down, letting the shock of the ground slice through my heels and shins as I land on the other side, sending a fresh bout of adrenaline pumping through me.
I must look deranged right now, getting soaked by the rain, wearing the clothes Alf dressed me in, which happen to be Caden’s.
Shorts and a tee. Pale skin, hair falling in front of my eyes.
Walking through a graveyard like some poltergeist. But no one will see me.
I just have to see him. Because after tonight, I will never come back here.
Not to his grave, not to this town, and eventually, hopefully, not even this country.
It’s dark here, the sun now fully set, it’s not like they leave floodlights on for midnight grave visitors. But I know exactly where I’m going. Even if I didn’t know where his plot was, I’d be drawn to it, soul to vessel. The only link in this world I’ve ever felt.
There is a little light around. From wind chimes and glass flowers scattered about, the moonlight reflects on them when it’s not being covered by the rain clouds, making them look like stars dusted throughout the grounds.
This won’t do. I need to see his name. I veer off and walk towards one of the groundskeeper shacks.
There must be torches in there. I locate the silhouette of the small hut and approach it, finding a thick chain through the latch.
Who the fuck locks up a shack that has nothing of value in it?
This refreshes my anger. I’m running on nothing but animosity and adrenaline. This must be how Caden feels all the time. No wonder he’s so strong. I feel like I could fight a fucking bear right now.
I kick at the hut door, rather aggressively. Obviously, it does nothing. I can’t kick through a metal chain.
I huff and walk round the shack, seeing if there’s a way in through the back but find something even better than that. There are some tools that have been propped up and left. Including a couple of shovels. Perfect.
I grab a shovel and go back round to the front and absolutely assault the chain until it breaks and falls to the ground.
The rain mingles with sweat on my skin, the warmth from the exertion disarming the chill of the raindrops.
I fling the door open and search blindly through the shelves and drawers.
Eventually, I find a torch. I walk back out, grabbing the shovel again.
It’ll be good to keep in the car on my travels, a bit of protection until I can get my hands on a gun or something better.
That was another thing I messed up in my frenzy to escape.
I should have broken into and raided Caden’s armoury.
Basically, I’ve made hardly any excellent decisions tonight.
I light the way, the grass and mud squelching underneath my bare feet.
Perhaps I should have spared five seconds to grab a pair of shoes.
Perhaps I should have done a lot of things differently now I reflect on it.
But that’s what we always do, isn’t it? We act on impulse, instinct, desperation, and it’s not until the dust settles, the adrenaline fizzles out, that logic decides to reappear and point out all the stupid decisions you made during your flight-or-fight moments.
It’s done now. I may not have shoes, or money, or dignity, but I have my freedom. I did it. I got away. That’s all that really matters now.
I reach Lewis’s grave again and let my body collapse to the ground.
Mud splatters up around me, but I couldn’t care less how dirty I am.
I’ve been dirty far more often than clean in my miserable little life.
I drop the shovel and torch and place my hands on top of the grass where my brother lies beneath.
“I did it, Lewis. I got out,” I whisper, letting the tears finally well up and my nose starts tingling. “It was fucking awful there. It’s been awful everywhere without you. But I made it out. I hope you’re proud.”
I imagine what he’d say. If he’d say he was proud or if he’d scold me for being so stupid.
You have no plan, no back-up, El, what the fuck were you thinking?
I shake the thought away. He wouldn’t say that. If he knew how bad it was, he’d have told me to escape sooner.
“It’s been so hard, Lew, so fucking hard.” The tears are falling freely now, my voice cracking with my cries. “Why did you have to leave me, Lewis? Why? Why you?”
Devastation seeps in quickly. Tragedy. Memory. Fear. Pain.
It all swells and floods in so fast the next thing I know I’m thumping my fists onto the ground.