Chapter 3 #2
“But I thought she didn’t speak to your parents anymore? Why were they even there?” I huff a rueful laugh.
“She never changed her will, so Dad inherited everything. And he decided the best thing to do with his newfound wealth was to make sure I had literally nothing.”
Emma squeezes my knee firmly.
“I’m not being funny, but your dad sounds like a total cunt.” A laugh bursts out of me, breaking the heavy emotional tension immediately.
“He is,” I say through my laughter, while Emma giggles beside me.
“What did you do?”
“Well, I’d stayed in the halls of residence my whole three years at uni.
I didn’t really make any friends I wanted to live in a shared house with, and thank goodness, because my rent and utilities were all paid during my undergrad, but then once I finished, I knew I couldn’t stay on, so I moved to London. ”
“Aw, like a little Dick Whittington. You went to seek your fortune on the streets paved with gold?”
I grimace at the irony. “Something like that. Turns out the only thing the streets offered me was somewhere to live.” It takes a minute for my words to hit home before she looks at me with concern on her face.
“Babe. You were homeless?” The use of the past tense isn’t lost on me. She has no idea I am, in fact, homeless. But that’s how I want it. I know what she’s like. If she has the slightest inkling I’m sleeping rough, she’ll offer for me to stay on her sofa, and I can’t.
I just can’t.
I swore when I left Dominic that I wouldn’t be dependent on anyone again.
I can’t have my living situation be at the mercy of someone else.
The only exception would be if I found Rain somewhere.
We’d spoken a few times about how we would live together and support each other to get on our feet if we ever managed to get out of the mess we’d gotten ourselves into.
The pain of realising Rain did get out, and that he left me behind, burns a little, but I honestly can’t blame him, given the rage Dan was in with me the next day. Rain must’ve been terrified to disappear the way he did.
“Yeah,” I reply. “But then I met Dominic.” I tell her the whole ugly tale. How I met him when I was at my lowest. How he promised me the world and told me he loved me. How I got myself in so deep trying to please him and cling to his affection that I couldn’t see a way out. God, I was so naive.
“D-did he hurt you?” Emma asks, in a broken whisper. Tears fill her eyes, and I take her hand in mine, squeezing it reassuringly, before reaching forward and opening the second bottle of wine.
“He did. He thinks he’s some kind of Dominant, so he often wanted to tie me up and use toys on me.”
“Toys? Like dildos?” I chuckle at the aghast expression on her pretty face.
“Sometimes, but mainly he’d cuff me or tie me up, then use paddles, whips…” I look at her, trying to gauge if this is all too much for her. She gives me a nod, and I continue. “He used a chain on me a few times. That really hurt.”
Emma seems stunned for a second, then she takes my wine glass and places them both on the coffee table, then launches herself on top of me. She squeezes me in a hug so tight, I can barely breathe.
“Fuck, babe. Why’d you stay? He sounds like a prick.” Her voice is muffled in my neck as she hugs me.
“He is a prick. But I let him. It was all consensual. By the end, I knew that without him, I had literally nobody else and nowhere to go. So, I kind of decided to take the roof over my head and food in my belly at the expense of my body. A whore, yes, but a whore on my own terms.” I can’t look at her.
I can’t see the expression of pity or disgust on her face.
I push her away from me and get up from the couch, moving over to the window that looks out over the high street.
Emma’s silent. So silent that I jump when she wraps her arms around me from behind to continue the hug she started on the couch.
The small act of affection and support does me in completely, and I can’t stop the tears that fall.
I can feel her body shaking as she cries too, her tears soaking the back of my T-shirt.
It takes us a few minutes to calm down, wipe our faces, and blow our noses before we take our seats again, emotionally exhausted. I pick up my wine and take a much-needed mouthful.
“I’m going to have a thick head in the morning, and I don’t even care,” she says as she does the same. “So then, when you left, you came here? To Coventry?”
Taking a deep breath, I tell her the rest. I tell her about Rain and how he disappeared. How he’s my only friend, and I’m worried sick about him, at which point she thumps my arm and looks at me meaningfully.
“Ow. What was that for?” I growl at her.
She simply raises her eyebrows incredulously, and I think back over my words, smiling when I realise the source of her irritation.
“He was my only friend.” She nods in satisfaction with a smug smile on her face. “I left the night after he did, jumped a few trains to try and make sure if they were following me, they lost track of where I was, and then got a new pay-as-you-go phone the next morning, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case they were tracking my phone.”
“The way ye say that like it’s normal is really disconcerting, babe.”
I’d been through my old phone and checked all the folders within folders within folders, but Dominic gave me that phone, and he knows some dodgy people, so I’m not 100% sure there wasn’t another way he could be tracking me.
But I’ve done the best I can, and I’ve avoided logging into any of my old email or social media accounts to err on the side of caution.
“I was running out of options when I got this job. I’m pretty sure John knew I was up shit creek without a paddle and took pity on me, given he didn’t ask me a single question about my ability to actually do the job.” We laugh.
“Aye. He’s a grumpy sod, but he’s got a heart of gold, really.”
“Hmm. Apples and trees.” I ponder, giving her a meaningful stare. They’re not father and daughter, they’re uncle and niece. But they’re family, and she’s just as big of a softy as John.
“Aye, he didnae have to look out for me when I moved out of London and didn’t want to go back to Scotland. But there was nothing for me up there after I lost my dad, and his brother was the closest family I had.”
“What about your mum?” I ask, and almost immediately regret it.
“She died when I was a bairn. Aneurysm. I don’t remember her at all.” She shrugs nonchalantly, but I find it hard to believe she feels so casual about losing her mum like that. I decide not to push, though. I know how much it hurts to think about losing those close to us.
A sharp knock on the door announces the arrival of our food, and as we eat – the best meal I’ve had in weeks – our conversation shifts to some new show on Netflix she’s obsessed with. I shake my head when she asks if I’ve seen it, and I settle into a relaxing documentary about the Yorkshire Ripper.