Elle （Past）
ELLE
PAST
When my case eventually came to court, my near-fatal experience at the hands of Damon Parker turned out to be the mitigating circumstance that saved me from a prison sentence, and I was handed a suspended sentence instead.
I didn’t feel jubilant. Another man had lost his life because of me and I felt I deserved to go to prison.
So did the man’s family. They, and the media, made much of the fact that if I hadn’t wrongly accused Brett Parker in the first place, leading inadvertently to his death, his son wouldn’t have come after me.
And if his son hadn’t come after me, their own much-loved father, brother, and son wouldn’t have fallen under a tube train and lost his life.
Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I was a wreck.
I was still living at Jaz’s, sleeping on the sofa, but every time I closed my eyes, all I could hear was the terrible screeching of the train as it hurtled toward me and the screams of the people as I lay on the track.
I could smell its scorching brakes, taste it on my tongue.
If I did sleep, I was haunted by nightmares.
And my ordeal wasn’t over; there was still Damon Parker’s trial to be gotten through.
The court case itself—giving evidence, being questioned by the defense, then the prosecution—passed in a blur of anxiety and guilt.
I was back in the media spotlight, portrayed as the woman who had very nearly gotten the comeuppance she deserved for having hounded an innocent man to his death.
The only thing I remembered clearly was closing my eyes in relief when Damon Parker was given twenty years imprisonment for attempted murder, with a minimum term of twelve years to be served before being eligible for parole. I was safe.
“One day, I’ll get you!”
My eyes snapped open. Damon Parker was leaning forward in the dock, looking right at me, hatred in his eyes. As prison guards surrounded him and hustled him away, he broke free and pointed a finger at me.
“When I get out, I will kill you!” he yelled, as I cowered on the bench.
In a twist of fate, the court case led to my great-aunt’s solicitor being able to trace me. My great-aunt had died the year before, I learned, and had bequeathed her mews house to me, just as she’d said she would.
“You deserve it,” Jaz said generously, when I told him.
I stared at him, shocked. “How can you say that? Two men have lost their lives because of me. I don’t deserve anything except to go to prison.
I’ve only gotten away with that because Damon Parker tried to kill me.
The worst thing is, I understand why he wanted me dead.
I might not know what it’s like to have a father but I’m sure that if I had one, I’d want revenge if he’d been killed by someone. ”
Damon Parker haunted me, not just because of what he’d done but because of what he’d become.
I was stunned at how he’d turned from being the seemingly nice boy who had laughed and joked with his dad as they’d walked to the restaurant together into a raging, violent, potential murderer in so short a time.
I had done that to him and it added to my shame.
I couldn’t bear to think about Brett Parker’s wife, with her husband dead and her son in prison.
My crimes were enormous. An image of Mrs. Parker in court came to me, pleading for leniency for her son, telling the judge that he was a kind and thoughtful young man and had adored his father so much that his death had destroyed him.
“You didn’t kill Brett Parker, Elle,” Jaz said. “Ultimately, his death was down to him. He didn’t look before he crossed the road. And you weren’t to blame for the death of the man on the tube.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I’m not accepting the house, it’s not right. I’m going to tell the solicitor to sell it and give the proceeds to the family of the man who fell onto the track.”
Jaz sighed. “Look, this house is your lifeline and you need to embrace it.”
I turned away from him. “I’m not taking it.”
He reached out and caught my arm. “Yes, Elle, you are. Everything that happened, it came from a good place. You were convinced it was Brett Parker driving the car and you wanted justice for Bryony.”
“I still am convinced he was driving the car,” I muttered.
But Jaz wouldn’t go there. “Anyway,” he added, poking me playfully in the ribs to lighten the conversation. “I need you gone. I need my space.”
“I’ve already told the solicitor that I don’t want the house.”
Jaz raised his eyebrows. “What did he say?”
“That I should take time to think about it. But I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want it.”
It took me another week to accept that my great-aunt’s house could be the glimmer of light at the end of what had been a very long tunnel.
Jaz had been incredibly kind and I couldn’t impose on him any longer.
I didn’t tell him about my change of heart because I was embarrassed at having gone back on my decision.
While I was with the solicitor, going through the paperwork in relation to my great-aunt’s house, the weight of who I was, of what I become, made me break down.
“I wish I could disappear,” I sobbed. “I wish I could stop being Elle Nugent and start my life over again. I can’t go on like this, with everyone knowing what I did.
” I didn’t tell him that Damon Parker’s threat to kill me was also a huge part of my desire to disappear.
DC Moss had explained that, with good behavior, Damon Parker could be released from prison in twelve years’ time.
The thought of having to live most of my life in fear made me not want to live at all.
The solicitor was kind and sympathetic to my distress, because he knew my story.
He explained that if I really wanted to start afresh, I could do so under a new name.
He offered to help me with establishing the necessary deed poll and suggested that I move quietly into my great-aunt’s house without telling anyone of my plans.
Taking his advice, I told Jaz I’d decided to move abroad.
I’d never told him where my great-aunt’s house was and as far as he knew, I had told the solicitor I didn’t want it.
Saying goodbye was hard for both of us but I could sense Jaz’s relief that he’d finally be able to get on with his life.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, holding me tight.
“You too.” My voice was heavy with tears at what I had lost through my own fault. For a moment, I wanted to ask him if there was any way back for us. But he deserved better.
Two months after I moved into my great-aunt’s house, the solicitor called to tell me that I was now Nell Masters.
I had picked Masters at random and had chosen a first name that resembled my old one so that I’d get used to it more quickly.
I wondered if I should tell DC Moss about my new identity in case Bryony’s murder, which was still being investigated, was ever solved.
But any update would be broadcast on the news channels and although I intended to avoid social media, I planned to keep up with current affairs and would know if any progress had been made.
It was hard but I eventually found some sort of peace.
My aunt’s house became my haven; once I’d closed the door behind me I felt safe.
I loved living there but I couldn’t shake the crushing guilt I felt at my good fortune.
I reminded myself that my luck was only temporary.
One day, Damon Parker would be released from prison and I had no doubt that when he was, he would come looking for me.