CHAPTER 40 #2
Jude and I eat the food cautiously, chewing on the sides of our faces that don’t burn and swallowing with extenuating pain.
At some point, Jude falls asleep. The sun sets and my mind wanders through the past few years.
Living in Shearwood Village, with its manicured lawns and perfect rosebushes always felt like a beautiful, impossible dream.
The podcast gave me a chance to share my voice while Rufus and I built a life that I deserve. But did I ever deserve it?
Did Robbie? I lean my head back and try to resist sleep which is rich with memories.
Time stills, and I am there again. Lying in the dirt outside the house while my body failed to fight unconsciousness. I don’t want to go back there. But the memory pulls me under until I am forced into the centre of that night.
“This is the right thing to do, right?” I asked.
I perched on Henry’s lap as we sank into the worn, abandoned sofa, derelict like the rest of the manor.
The place was dark. A row of tealights I’d bought from the budget store flickered across a pot-marked coffee table.
Henry kept sipping his beer, his fingers tapping a jittery rhythm against my thighs.
Earlier, I dragged two armchairs from the dining room to sit at the table, setting our stage to confront Robbie.
All we had to do was wait.
“Robbie is messing with me. With us,” Henry murmured, pressing another soft kiss into my collarbone, his breath warm against my skin. I wore a tight, frilly blue top, off-the-shoulder and low-cut in the hopes that I looked older. I relaxed against him.
“I know,” I said. My breath tasted stale from the beers we’d been drinking for hours. It was just Henry and me in the mould-ridden manor, nibbling snacks and playing house while we waited.
“We have to show him he can’t mess with us,” Henry breathed against my skin, and I felt him grow excited beneath me.
“But no one will get hurt?” I asked. Even then, something in the air felt wrong.
“Of course not,” he replied.
The door swung open without warning, creaking on its hinges before slamming into the wall. Shock ripped through me. Nate stood behind Robbie on the threshold. I yanked my top up to cover myself under my brother’s glare.
Henry shifted beneath me, his leg bouncing erratically. Later, we would learn he was on speed. At the time, I mistook it for passion, some dramatic, public declaration that he loved me.
“What the fuck?” Henry snapped.
“We’re just here to talk,” Nate said calmly, walking in and sitting in one of the armchairs. His posture reminded me of Dad. I looked away.
“This doesn’t involve you,” Henry said, gripping my hips. Under Nate’s eyes, the touch made my stomach twist.
Robbie stumbled in behind Nate, swaying and red-faced. He looked as drunk as I felt.
“Clearly it does,” Nate said, his eyes fixed on me. Heat crawled up my neck.
“I don’t need you stepping in! I’m fifteen. I can do what I want.” The slur of my words shocked me into silence.
Robbie scoffed, dug into his bag, and cracked open a beer.
“He’s nineteen,” he said, raising the can towards Henry.
“So?” I said, squaring my shoulders. I sounded like a kid.
Henry sighed and slid me off his lap, leaving me to sink into the lumpy sofa. He started pacing the room, so all of us tracked him. Robbie swayed in place. Nate sat still, face tight. Pride tilted my chin as I watched Henry move. He was doing this for me.
“I think we’re forgetting that El can make up her own mind,” Henry said, stopping so the four of us formed a loose square. I smiled up at him.
He was doing this for me.
“And I think it’s worth remembering that,” he added, leaning forward.
Something heavy hit the table. The warmth in my chest turned to ice, shrinking in and crushing my lungs with a cold fear. The knife sat on the table, staring back at us.
“Henry…” I whispered.
“Woah,” Nate said.
“A bit much, yeah?” Robbie slurred.
We spoke over each other, all three of us reacting at once.
I reached out to Henry. Even then, I thought it was about me. About proving something for me.
“Hey, we don’t need to do anything stupid,” I whispered in his ear, but he jerked away.
Henry’s anger flashed as he pushed me backwards. “This isn’t stupid. I’m sick of people slandering me. It’s fucking pathetic.”
The mood in the room shifted.
“You can’t control her,” Robbie muttered, his eyes on mine as I stumbled into the chair. He gave me a look that I’d seen before. I averted my own.
It happened too fast to track.
Henry lunged. One moment, Robbie stood near the table. The next, Henry tackled him, and the room was filled with the sound of fighting. The entire energy of the house flipped into a chaotic, choking panic.
I stumbled to my feet. The coffee table knocked over, so tealights rolled and dripped hot wax as flames kissed the threads.
Fear crawled up my spine. The same fear that always returned in this memory.
Time warped in and out of focus. Nate shouted something, but I couldn’t hear him.
All I could hear was blood rushing in my ears.
“Stop it!” But my words were lost.
Henry straddled Robbie, beating him with wild, animalistic force.
Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted something I couldn’t make out.
Robbie’s face had already begun to transform, swollen, bloody, his eyes squeezed shut.
One hand flapped weakly in defence while the other was trapped beneath Henry’s knee.
I stepped forward, the smell of burning fabric filling my nose.
“Henry!” Nate lunged forward, hooking his arm around Henry’s neck from behind and pulling hard.
“Get off me!” Henry roared, thrown off balance just long enough for Robbie to wriggle free.
Then I saw it: the knife still in Henry’s left hand, glinting under the tealight glow. My shout rose thin and useless in my throat.
I stepped forward to stop him but heat licked the bottom of my jeans. I looked down. My jeans had caught alight from one of the tealights. I dropped to the ground and slapped at it with my bare hand, stinging my skin. A cry tore my attention back across the room. To Nate.
“Aghhh!”
I reached towards Nate. He staggered back from Henry, hands pressed to his side. Panic churned through me. I scrambled across the floor to him, slipping on wax and debris.
“Nate, what’s wrong?” I asked, naively.
“Shit,” Nate said, clutching the lower right side of his stomach. Sweat already coated his skin. I dropped beside him.
“It’s OK. It’s just a scratch. Ruined my top though, didn’t it?
” he joked weakly, glancing down at the blood spreading across his shirt.
He slumped into me, his weight pushing me back against the armchair.
“Stupid bugger thinks he can knife me,” he muttered.
But the humour faded fast as we both looked over.
Henry was hunched over Robbie, one hand planted on the floor for balance, as he repeatedly beat him.
“Nate…” I whispered.
“Ella, call the police,” Nate said, reaching with shaking fingers into the pocket of my jeans.
“Don’t you dare,” Henry growled. He moved fast, closing the space between us before I breathed again. I didn’t look at Robbie. I couldn’t. But the sound coming from that side of the room told me enough.
Henry snatched the phone from my hands and smashed it against the floor.
“Henry…” I said, already knowing there was no way this could end well.
The memory flickers then fades before starting again.
I know that I manage to crawl away as Henry beats Robbie.
I know that I make it to the neighbours fence before Henry grabs me, knocking me out.
But the memory will only let me see what I didn’t do.
Capturing me with cold, angry hands to watch the last moment I saw Nate.
At some point in the bare basement, as the sun made its way up the sky, my vision swam and sleep took over.