I dressed and drew in a long slow breath before turning to face the mirror. That breath was released in a juddering rush, along with a slew of hot tears and sobs that wracked my body as I saw the state of my face. I had a split lip and a gash over my right cheekbone, which was already turning a dark shade of purple along with both of my eyes. My broken nose and the one side of my face was a swollen mess. The macabre crimson mask that decorated nearly every square inch, from forehead to chin, only made the slashes of porcelain skin that broke through it look even paler. Even my wild and tangled blonde hair, some of which he’d ripped out by the roots, had matted dark blood in it. My blue eyes were dull and lifeless, one of them grotesquely bloodshot, and a pained expression was tattooed on my face.
I barely recognised myself, and wondered if I’d ever be able to look in a mirror and not be haunted by the vision reflected back at me now.
It took longer than expected to make my way down the stairs as I clutched at my damaged ribs in a futile attempt to keep the pain at bay. Even with the knowledge that he was heavily sedated and chained, that if he were to wake up he couldn’t get to me, I still didn’t feel safe. I wasn’t sure I ever truly would.
Taking a packet of corn-starch from the kitchen, I entered his study and searched for his safe. It took a long time to discover the small button concealed under his desk. When I pressed it, a whirring noise sounded from the black and white portrait of me, commissioned from a photo he’d taken of me the night we met, which hung on the opposite wall to his desk. It rose up slowly, revealing his digital safe. If he’d had a key safe I might have been screwed, but I’d heard the beeping of those buttons being pressed so many times when I’d pressed my ear up against his office door.
Dipping the blusher brush into the packet of corn-starch, I swept the soft bristles over the keypad. The powder clung to four digits, just like it did in the movies, and I stared at them trying to work out which order to try them in. In an ironic twist of fate, I realised that he’d used my birthdate. In his own sick and twisted way, he really did love me.
Punching in the code there was a satisfying click as the door swung open. I swept the cash and jewellery into my handbag, along with my British passport, which he’d arranged for me years ago. I hadn’t seen it since the day I landed in Washington and he took if off me for “safe keeping.” Thankfully it was still just in date.
I pocketed the keys to the front door that he secured in here every night, then looked for the thumb drive that I knew he kept all of his passcodes on. He’d taunted me with that little black and silver drive, reminding me that he had all of the control, telling me I’d never get access to his passwords or bank accounts. He’d never imagined a scenario where I’d ever have access to his study when he wasn’t home to keep an eye on me, so he thought his computer and everything on it was safe, protected. It was currently as protected as I’d been since he’d swept into my life.
Plugging the thumb drive into his iMac I accessed the bank accounts. On checking our joint account, which I’d never had access to, I inhaled sharply to see how large the balance was. His savings account had a ridiculous level of money in it too, whereas mine stood at a nil balance. But not for long. I immediately transferred every penny from the joint account to my own. I knew to him it would barely be a dent in his fortune, his assets were in stocks, shares, and property, but to me it was the equivalent of a lottery win. It could buy me my freedom once and for all.
As tempting as it was to empty his account, I needed to make this break from him legally. No one could dispute me taking funds from a joint account, but I knew that I’d be charged with theft if I touched his personal savings.
Leaving his study and heading towards the back of the house, I took one last, lingering look inside my fully equipped art studio next to his office. It was the one side of me that he’d never tried to tame. I’d inherited my mother’s artistic abilities, and here was the only place in the house that gave me some sense of self, that put me back in touch with the girl I used to be. The girl I longed to be again, if that were even possible. Moving into the centre of the room, I ran my fingers over my last canvas creation, which stood on the wooden easel, and sighed. He’d asked me to paint my vision of our love after nearly ten years together. He wanted to hang it in his study for our upcoming anniversary in December.
To the casual observer I’d painstakingly created the most stunning galaxy, implying our love was infinite. Only I knew the meaning behind the apparent beauty of my work.
The black background signified my fear and hatred.
The dark blues were my depression.
The reds my anger.
And the myriad of sparkling stars that some would see as incandescent diamonds, wasn’t the symbolisation of the infinity of our love, but the infinity of torture stretching before me. I was alone, insignificant in my surroundings of a vast nothingness that would consume me and my future if I stayed.
But I wasn’t staying. Not even for another minute.
‘Are you going to be okay?’ Dawn asked, worrying her lower lip as we stood in front of Washington Police Department’s main entrance.
‘One day, I hope to be,’ I said quietly, smiling gently at her. She reached up and tucked a strand of my freshly combed hair behind my ear and shook her head.
‘I’d have killed him before leaving that house if it was me, not left him drugged and handcuffed.’
‘I don’t have it in me to kill someone, Dawn, no matter how much I wish I could. Once I’ve made the complaint and they’ve documented and treated my injuries, I’ll tell them I left him handcuffed at the house.’
‘When I saw what he’d done to you–’ her voice cracked as her eyes filled with tears.
One blessing of taking a beating, was the knowledge that he wouldn’t lay a hand on my face again until everything had healed and faded. That gave him a chance to parade me in public again, to avoid any more suspicion that my lack of a social life already gave rise to. While the bite marks and bruises continued on the rest of my body in those periods, it was never with as much aggression for fear of my pain drawing attention to us. That short window of reprieve was a welcome relief each time. The look on Dawn’s face as I’d approached her car less than an hour ago, had told me that she’d been sorely unprepared for how bad the reality of the damage he inflicted actually was.
‘It was worth it,’ I stated sincerely as I took both of her hands in mine and squeezed them tightly. ‘Every scrape, cut, bruise, scar, and break, gave me the chance to put more distance between me and him than I’ve had in years. I stand a chance now. I can report him and hopefully get a long-term protection order put in place. He might even be arrested and sent to prison. Then I can leave the country and change my name, and I couldn’t have got this far without your help,’ I reminded her.
‘All I did was pick you up, and buy a few supplies for you to start afresh with.’
‘You also trusted me when I told you what he was doing to me, when you had no evidence to corroborate it. And you got me the sedatives. I’d never have made it this far without you, Dawn. You were my only real friend, the one person I’ve ever trusted since I came to America.’
‘I can’t just let you go, Izzie,’ she choked, her voice wavering with emotion. It made my chest hurt even more than it already did, which I’d have thought was impossible up until this moment. ‘There has to be a way we can stay in touch before you leave the country. At least stay with us until the courts grant the order?’
‘It’s safer for all of us if we don’t stay in touch,’ I reminded her sadly. ‘On the off chance he’s not arrested, I don’t want to put you or Vic in harm’s way. If you don’t know where I am, he can’t force my location out of you.’
She nodded reluctantly, and pulled her hands from mine before sweeping them across her damp cheeks.
‘Ma’am, is everything okay out here?’ a male voice asked. The young police officer visibly winced as I turned my head to face him and nodded.
; ‘I just need a minute with my friend, before I come inside and report someone for domestic violence.’
‘Then I think it’s best I wait here until you’re ready,’ he replied. His hand moved to the gun on his hip as his eyes scanned the darkness around us for signs that we might still be in danger. He had no idea that I’d never felt as safe as I did in this moment.
‘I can’t believe this is it,’ Dawn croaked as I turned to face her again.
‘Neither can I,’ I sighed, feeling like I was back in Glasgow trying to say my goodbyes to Shaz. It hurt my heart so much. ‘We didn’t have enough time, we never had enough time to make this friendship into something even more special. I want you to know that you were my lifeline, Dawn, a ray of light that cut through the black depressive fog I’ve been trapped in for over nine years. I’ll always treasure every fleeting moment I got to spend with you.’
‘Me too. You, Izzie Knight, are the sweetest person I’ve ever known, you didn’t deserve the hell that bastard has put you through. I want to hug you goodbye, and I can’t even do that or I’ll hurt you,’ she sobbed, giving up trying to stem the flow of tears coursing down her cheeks as her chest rattled.
‘You’ll hurt me even more if you don’t,’ I said softly.
I swallowed the howl of pain as she wrapped her arms around me, torturing my fractured ribs.
I’d survived Richard King, I could live through my last hug with my dear friend. Possibly my only friend.
Chapter Two
Izzie Knight
October - Two Months Later
‘WE FIND THE DEFENDANT not guilty, Your Honor,’ the head juror stated. He avoided my stunned gaze, and the gasp of horror from the gallery, who’d shown up each day to follow the case. Not one of the twelve men and women who’d just handed me a life sentence could look me in the eye.
Richard had no such compunction though. A sadistic smile spread across his face, as he lifted his hand, dangling the handcuffs from his finger that only moments ago had been circling both of his wrists. The hatred in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine and forced me to close mine as I battled the urge to throw up and stop the room from spinning.
‘I told you, my darling Isabelle. You can run, but you can never hide. I’ll find you. Destiny is inescapable, it will always find you, and so will I.’
A feral scream gurgled up from the depths of my stomach, a scream so loud that I startled myself, as well as a number of my fellow passengers, awake.
‘Are you okay, madam?’ A flight attendant hurried towards me with a look of concern on her face as people around me cast curious looks my way. I swallowed and ran the back of my hand over my damp and clammy forehead as I nodded.
‘I’m sorry, it was nightmare. It was just a nightmare,’ I repeated, trying to regulate my erratic breathing as I reminded myself that I was safe. He’d been found guilty of assault and sentenced to five years in prison, and I had a long-term protection order in my possession that prevented him from even calling me, let alone coming anywhere near me. I was finally safe. And I was nearly free.
‘Okay then. We’ll be starting our descent into Glasgow shortly, so if you’d like to freshen up, I’d do it now before the captain turns on the seatbelt sign.’ She gave me a sympathetic smile and I nodded again, taking a moment to compose myself before doing as I was told.
After washing my hands, I splashed some cold water on my face and used some paper towel to gently dab it dry. Forcing myself to look at my reflection, I ignored the image of my broken face from the last night in his house, which always came to my mind when I looked in the mirror, and took a moment to study the new me.
My nose had been fixed, courtesy of some of Richard’s money that I’d taken. All of the bruises had long since vanished, though I had thin red scars where he’d split my lip and my cheek. I’d been told that in time they’d fade. My long, blonde hair, had been re-dyed to match my roots, taking it back to its natural mocha colour that I hadn’t seen for so long. I’d also kept the promise I’d made to myself and was sporting a pixie haircut, short enough at the back that no one could grab it and use it as leverage to control me. Instead of a figure-hugging designer dress and Jimmy Choos, I was wearing jeans, trainers, a T-shirt, and a thick woollen cardigan. I now looked younger than my twenty-seven years, more like a typical college student than the poised, elegant, mature woman that Richard had moulded me into. I’d blend in and draw less attention to myself like this. And that was what I wanted.
When I stepped out of the plane, and a cold Glaswegian winter wind welcomed me into its icy embrace, I breathed the arctic air in deeply. After ten years, I was finally home. But this time, instead of blindly following the leadership of Shaz, I had a carefully constructed plan of my own to follow. When Richard’s sentence had been read out, and he’d chillingly spoken the very words that he’d said in my nightmare, I’d made a decision to never let anyone control my fate again. Today I was going to check into a hotel and recharge my batteries, then tomorrow the first item on my agenda was finding my old friend.
When the taxi dropped me off, I just stood with my arms wrapped around myself, hardly able to believe I was back on the estate. It was a far cry from the affluent street in Georgetown where I’d lived with Richard. I’d expected it to have changed in the years since I left, maybe for the better. It hadn’t. If anything, it looked even worse.
Most of the flats had broken windows. In the car park there was a burned-out car half way up the kerb, as well as an upturned rusty shopping trolley that was missing a wheel. A gang of young lads in hoodies were sitting on the wall that surrounded the graffiti covered concaved skate park, smoking and swigging from cans of lager.
‘You sure you’re going to be okay, love?’ the taxi driver asked as he wound down his window. ‘Doesn’t look the sort of place a young woman like you should be hanging around alone in.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I nodded. ‘I used to live here, and if my friend still does and she doesn’t send me packing with one of her infamous scowls, I won’t be alone much longer.’ The simple statement warmed me from the inside out. I was excited and apprehensive at the same time.
‘Well, how about I just wait here a while? If you don’t find her I can take you straight home.’
‘You’d do that?’ I asked, turning to face him. Even back in the day, most taxi drivers wouldn’t come anywhere near this estate, and if they did it was a dump and flee. None of them would have waited to see me safely inside.
‘Sure, as long as you’re quick, I don’t fancy being parked up here for long.’
I gave him a grateful smile and nodded, then turned and started picking my way across the uneven slabs, peppered with weeds, fag ends and broken bottles, as I headed towards the peeling green painted door of flat three. I could hear a TV blaring inside, and a baby screaming as I knocked loudly. Well, if Shaz still lived here, we’d had a complete role reversal if she’d had children and I was the one without any. The door opened a fraction, a pair of tired brown eyes peering out of the crack.
‘What do ya want?’
‘I’m sorry to bother you, I was wondering if Sharon Mackie still lives here, or nearby?’
‘Who?’
‘Sharon Mackie, mouthy redhead that goes by the name Shaz. I used to live in this flat with her, almost ten years ago,’ I said, hopeful for a favourable response.
‘Nope, love, dunno her,’ the woman replied.
‘Do you know anyone who might? Please, I really need to find her,’ I pleaded. She sighed and opened the door, revealing herself to be an exhausted looking girl, barely out of childhood herself, with a snotty-nosed youngster sitting on her hip.
‘Give me a second, love,’ she said before turning her back on me. ‘Gav,’ she screamed, setting off the baby’s wails in the background again.
‘What? I’m watching the bloody game,’ a guy’s voice bellowed as my eyes scanned the hallway of my old home. Other than a lick of paint, and some cheap chipped laminate flooring, nothing seemed to
have changed much at all.
‘Some woman’s ‘ere looking for a Shaz Mackie. Y’heard of her?’
‘Shaz who?’
‘Mackie.’
‘Redhead, feisty and foul mouthed,’ I shouted over her shoulder.
‘Oh her, yeah, lived here before I moved in. For fucks sake ref, are you bloody blind y’idiot?’ he yelled at the TV.
‘Do you know where I can find her?’ I yelled back.
‘Nah, she used to hang around The Elephant and Castle pub, not seen her there for years.’
‘Oh,’ I sighed, my shoulders slumping. The pub was next on my list, but that didn’t sound promising.
‘That all, love? I need to go and tend to the wee bairn,’ the woman said as she turned and grabbed the edge of the door. The child in her arms used the neck of her already soiled and grubby jumper to wipe his streaming nose on.
‘Yes, I guess so. Thanks for your help, and if you should happen to see her–’ the door slammed shut in my face. ‘Tell her that Izzie Knight came back to eat a whole lot of humble pie, just like she predicted I would.’
I had no luck in the pub either. The newsagents, where we used to get our cigarettes and beer from, was empty and run down. Even St. Catherine’s didn’t exist anymore. It had been razored to the ground and lots of cheap housing built on the site it used to stand on. While the city itself was modern, vibrant and hip, my old haunts were a far cry from the cosmopolitan areas that the tourists frequented.
It was dark by the time the patient taxi driver, who’d pretty much turned into a “shittiest places of Glasgow” tour guide, took me to the last place on my list. Somewhere a bit more upmarket, somewhere I’d never find Shaz, but somewhere I needed to see one last time before I left Scotland. The house I’d grown up in with my parents. Where I’d had a normal life before fate had turned my world upside down.
I sat in the back of the cab, the engine still running, my breath fogging up the glass as I stared across the street at the smart grey Georgian semi. The young family in there hadn’t closed the curtains in the large bay window, and I could see the dad laughing as he tried to get his daughter to eat a forkful of whatever the mother had just set on the table of the high chair. It was completely different inside. Gone were the internal walls that had separated the lounge, dining room, and kitchen, now it was one large, modern, open-plan space.
Inescapable Page 4