When I dared myself to look in the mirror, there were bruises in the shape of thumb prints covering my shoulders. And red marks across my throat, where he'd tried to strangle me until I almost passed out, letting go at the point of climax, as my head fell back, and I willed myself to die. But, I couldn't. What would become of Lily, if I was no longer here? Would he start on her?
I wished, in that moment, I had never laid eyes on Joel.
The man I loved had been replaced with a complete stranger, long before Lily was born. Even before our wedding day had ended. The moment he laid his palm across my face was the moment our marriage had fallen apart. I held onto that thought, as I stormed across the room, and began to pack away my things. But, it wasn't until I reached Lily's room I realised I had nowhere to go.
He'd suggested I leave the job I loved to become a wife and mother. He'd made it impossible for me to begin a master’s degree, without feeling as though I'd let him and Lily down, that I wasn't taking responsibility for the things which mattered. He'd drilled it into my head I was selfish to even think of leaving her for a second. Eventually, I gave up any dreams I'd held of returning to work, or starting a new career. He controlled all the finances, only giving me enough money to pay for lunch when Rose asked me out—to keep up appearances more than anything else. Everything was bought online; the food we ate, and the clothes we wore, so I wouldn't ever need to go out. I hardly ever leave the house.
He checks all of my receipts to confirm I'm not secretly saving any money somewhere, and he pays my mobile phone bill each month, so he can read my statement, which lists all the incoming and outgoing calls. He even stopped Rose from visiting the house. She told me. I should have believed her, but I didn't, and we didn't speak for four months.
As soon as Rose and Jared had returned from India, I'd already concocted a brilliant get-out clause. I told her Joel had been suffering from work stress, and wasn't thinking straight. He didn't mean to take it out on her, but even she knew it was all lies. She knows me better than anyone. She knew I was covering up for something, but not what. I think that's why she made me promise to allow Lily to call her Aunt Rose. They share a bond which can never be broken.
I glance around the house I call home, not really feeling anything, as I make my way into the living room, waiting for Joel to arrive. I take a seat beside the television, switching it on, but not really listening to the presenter’s words. A deafening silence rings out in my head, and I think I'm going to start panicking again. It dies away, and I'm left rooted to the leather sofa, with my body rigid, and my fingernails digging into the heels of my hands.
The woman on the screen is doing a lot of head nodding; her face is set. My breath catches in my throat as I grasp a few words, which fall from her pink-painted lips. She is talking about me.
I listen intently, as the woman pours over the last thirteen years of her life with gruelling clarity. Her husband beat her. She was so afraid she used to lock herself in the bathroom, and hide with her mobile phone pressed to her ear, if she managed to call the police, but never felt strong enough to press charges. She was so frightened, convinced he'd kill her one night she arranged for her sister to look after her children—all conceived through rape.
That night, as her husband slept in a drunken stupor, she poured petrol on the bed, and struck a match. She closed the door on him, as the flames licked at his flesh, and called the police. He died within minutes of her leaving the house. She would never again experience the fear and violence he dealt her. She was tried for manslaughter, and sentenced to ten years in prison, for acting out of character in order to end her suffering at the hands of her own husband.
I'm still fighting to catch my breath, as an idea zooms into my head, and won't leave. It's as though a light has been switched on in my fuzzy brain. I don't have the strength that woman had to lug around canisters of petrol, so there's only one option—I have to leave him. But, I don't want Lily here, in case something goes wrong. I'll have to ask Rose to have her overnight. I know she won't mind, but she might ask me why I'm so desperate to let her go.
There is another downside, too. Any time Lily stays away from us, Joel frets over the things he will be able to do to me. My screams don't matter, if she isn't here—forcing me to muffle them. He likes to inflict pain. He likes to watch me squirm. But, I’ll put up with anything, if it means I will be able to escape this rotten house, and flee his sadistic touch.
The thought of being able to breathe clean air, and not have to look over my shoulder, almost makes me smile. Almost, but not quite. There is so much to do, and so much which could go wrong, I'm not even sure if I can do it, but I have to try. This might be the only chance I ever have.
JOEL
I know she's planning something, but I've no idea what. She doesn't seem to be all that bothered about Lily going off to Rose's.
'I'll see you soon, baby,' she says, kissing the top of her head goodbye, and practically shoving her out the door.
Rose stands outside, and cradles Lily in her arms. She is jealous of Erica, and would do anything to take her place. The way her eyes rest on mine, slightly longer than necessary, are an obvious sign she's secretly attracted to me. I almost throw a smile her way to let her know I'm waiting for her to make the move, but I stop dead in my tracks when I see Erica. Instead of waiting for Rose's car to pull away and waving Lily off, she has already made herself comfortable on the sofa in the living room. That seals it for me. She must be up to something. She would never act so detached from her precious daughter.
I enter the living room, and switch off the television, perching beside Erica on the arm of the sofa. I dislike it when she refuses to look into my eyes when I'm speaking to her. It's rude.
'What's going on?'
'I'm leaving you.'
'Go on then.'
She stands up from the sofa, and walks into the hall. Before her foot reaches the first step, I'm standing at the bottom of the stairs behind her.
'Where are you going?'
'Collecting my suitcase.' She takes several steps forward.
'I meant, where will you go?'
'Anywhere. I'm done with you.'
'Fine. But, you're not taking Lily.'
She stalls on the fourth step, bracing herself for what comes next.
'You're not taking my daughter.'
'Your daughter? So, she's yours when it suits you, but when you want to accuse me of having an affair, she's mine.'
'Stop dragging up the past.'
'It's barely a day since you last mentioned it. I'd hardly call that the past.'
'Lily's not going anywhere.'
Her body seizes up for a moment, but then she says something unexpected.
'Fine,' she says. 'She can stay.'
This isn't how I thought this would go.
'I'll call Rose, and have her bring her back as soon as you've left.'
She doesn't look back, just continues on up the stairs, and into the bedroom, almost knocking over the plant pot from the corner unit on the landing, its dead leaves falling to the ground, as if displaying a visual metaphor for our marriage.
I wait until she's collected her one suitcase from the bedroom, and has lugged it down the stairs before tearing away her taste of freedom the second she appears beside the front door.
'I'm a lawyer. I know people. I will make sure you never see Lily again.'
She drops her bag to the floor, and stands there staring at the door with her back to me, frozen. I notice from behind Erica appears quite attractive. She has a slim figure. It's a shame; with her shoulders drawn she seems to be carrying the weight of the world. I don't understand how she can ever be worried; she's been provided for, and doesn't have to deal with the kinds of responsibility I do. What has she got to concern herself with, other than what to cook us for dinner?
I leave her to stew on my words, contemplating her decision, as I enter the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. When I enter the dining room to take a seat at the gl
ass table, Erica walks in, and begins to tidy away the dishes from the coffee table and surrounding spaces, where Lily's grubby fingers have smeared imprints on the polished furniture.
'I thought you were leaving.'
'I am.'
I want to ask her why she's bothering to hang around, but then, I realise she wasn't really going anywhere. She wanted to test herself, to see if she could just walk away from her own daughter, but it's obvious she can't.
'I'll make us some lunch.'
'Don't bother,' she says. 'I'm not hungry.' She puts away Lily's toys.
'Don't you love me anymore?'
It takes her a while to answer me. I've taken my third sip of coffee before she does.
'I used to, but you've changed.'
'I'm not the big bad wolf.'
She harrumphs, and it takes all my energy not to backhand her across the face. She pouts, turns her head away from me, and continues her task.
'You could do a lot worse than me.'
'I doubt it,' she says.
Irritated now, I continue my lecture, as she grunts and sighs, not really caring.
'I put this roof over your head. If I hadn't, you'd still be living in that squalid little flat. I feed you, clothe you, take care of you and Lily. Everything I've done has been for you.'
'I never asked for any of it.'
'You don't appreciate it. You're an ungrateful bitch.'
'I'm your punch-bag. Nothing more. You don't love me. You don't even know what love is.'
My fist clenches at my side, but I try to keep my cool. It isn't her fault; she has mental problems. She doesn't know what she's saying.
'If I'm such an awful person to live with, then why did you marry me?'
'You hit me on our wedding night!' she says, sounding breathless, as she hurries about the room, collecting things up, and putting them back in their rightful place.
'I'm not a monster, Erica. I'm your husband.'
'That's my point. You have no right to lay a finger on me. No right to…' Erica stops, breathless. She stands before me, looking as though she's going to faint.
'Look what you're doing to yourself. Look what you're doing to us. You're a mess. Can't you see you’re causing all of this?'
As if to emphasize my point, I glance around the house. My house.
'Look at the state of it.'
She takes a seat at the dining table, and puts her head in her hands, sobbing.
'Don't cry. You're making out I'm awful, and I'm not. I only want what's best for you. Can't you see that? You have it easy.'
'Easy? None of this has been easy.'
'Erica, you're getting yourself into a state. Just listen to me. You have to understand I'm not going to let my daughter go anywhere. She stays here, where she belongs, with me. If you want to leave, then go. I don't care. Just quit whining and dribbling, and sort your head out. Decide what you're going to do, and get on with it.'
I leave the room, half-expecting her to follow me, but she doesn't. I can hear her crying from here. I slam the kitchen door behind me, and a few moments pass, before I hear the front door close.
She won't go far. The gate is locked, and I doubt she's got the energy to scream, alerting a passer-by she's being held against her will. That is just the kind of thing she'll say. I know, because she's done it before.
I leave the kitchen table, and walk over to the living room window, which faces the lawn. The grass is bright green, and the sky warm and blue. I'm looking across the gravel drive, where Erica stands at the gate, wondering how she will get out without a key.
When a car approaches the gate, and I release the security lock, I expect Erica to run out onto the street, but she doesn't. She turns toward the Ocado delivery driver, and signs for the package. The driver is probably wondering why she's wearing a dressing gown in the afternoon. She waltzes back up the path.
'Did you have a nice walk?'
She notes the sarcasm in my voice, passing me the small brown box, but flinches, as she makes her way past me into the living room.
'Have you got over your hysterics now, you nutcase?'
'I'm not mad. I'm fucking furious.'
'I'll leave you to it, then.'
I close the door behind me, as a heavy object comes hurtling at full speed, causing the living room door to shake on its hinges.
'That was a silly thing to do.' I slam open the door, witnessing the look of horror on her face.
Something overtakes me. The blackness descends. I have no control over my actions. I hold her hair in my hand, twisting it until she cries out. But, I don't hear anything against the whooshing sound in my ears; I can only see her face, as it contorts into a snarling ugly mess.
I feel nothing, as I slam her head against the wall, tossing her to the floor like a rag doll, before choking her. I squeeze her throat, until she releases her hands from my arms, and her head falls down hard onto the laminate floor with a thump.
'You made me do that. You push me too far, Erica.'
She doesn't answer me. Her eyes are staring at the ceiling. As I look down to where my fist is clenched around a small bunch of Erica's hair, I notice the blood on my knuckles, and I've no idea where it came from.
Erica's glazed eyes remain staring into space, as she turns her head to reveal a cut lip. She opens her mouth, exposing her gums and blood spills from her mouth onto the pale laminate floor. I don't remember hitting her.
She slowly drags herself up, and bends forward to wipe away the blood from her lips with the sleeve of her dressing gown, which has fallen open, exposing her thin, bare legs. She stands, and moves to the living room door.
'You're not going anywhere, Erica. Sit down.'
She doesn't respond, so I yank her hand away from the door handle, and shove her to the sofa, where she stumbles down onto the seat. She looks down at her hands, as though they aren't a part of her. The small white gold diamond ring she's worn every day since we took our vows glints on her finger. I blink to rid the image of our false future from my mind, instead trying to focus on the present moment, but it doesn't help knowing we could have had it all, if only she'd behave.
'I'll fetch you something to clean that cut up with.'
I leave her on the sofa, knowing she won't attempt to escape. She wouldn't want anybody to see what she's made me do to her.
When I return to the living room, Erica is seated in the exact position I left her in. I pull out some gauze, a small bandage, and a large plaster, dressing her wound as well as I can, not sure what I'm doing. This is women's work, after all. I make her stand, and she goes upstairs to run a bath.
In almost four years, I've no idea what it is which compels her to react so defensively toward me, or what causes her to force my hand to her, but it's something which gnaws at me from inside. Why does she make me feel so empty?
ERICA
Joel stands over me with the electric heater in his hand, plugged in. All he has to do is drop it into the water and I'll be electrocuted. I won't be able to keep Lily safe, if I'm dead, so I don't say anything, hoping if I just allow him to act out his little fantasy, he will soon snap out of whatever it is that causes his eyes to mist over.
I think if I can hold out from showing him how frightened I am, he will soon grow bored. I hold in mind the potential to flee. Telling myself it is only a matter of time. Today has only confirmed to me how sick Joel is.
He blinks, turns on his heel, and leaves the bathroom.
Once I hear the familiar click of the front door closing behind him, I sink down into the water to rinse my hair before jumping out of the bath still shaking, grabbing a towel from the handrail, as I make my way into the bedroom. I dress hurriedly, and leave the house as quickly as I can, remembering all the times I wasn't able to.
Joel has only ever held me against my will a few times. He's not physically prevented me from leaving for a while, but I've been subdued by his threats for so long I've imprisoned myself. Having been constantly told not to stray too far, n
ot to speak to anyone, and to return home promptly, I've found it easier on myself to do as he says, and not to anger him.
But, now, some of my fight has returned. The thought of escape pumps adrenaline through my core, and I try to force his words from my head, as I close the front door to the beautiful house which hides so many secrets. He said he no longer has to keep tabs on me himself, because he has others to do it for him. Until now, I'd stupidly believed him, but not anymore.
I cross the street, and find the road deserted of traffic. The council are re-laying new tarmac, and my eyes graze the heads of the small group of workmen chattering away below a heavy old ash tree. I don't see how Joel could have anyone follow me. I'd be sure to notice a stranger lurking on the corner of the roads I pass.
I make my way for the set of traffic lights at the junction directly opposite the small roundabout, and try to disguise my anxiety, as I pass a couple of men with their heads down, and their eyes leering at the phone one of them is holding. They look too young to care in which direction I walk, so I very much doubt either of them has been sent by Joel to follow me.
Not only is my husband lying to me, but he is convinced I believe everything he says. Which is good, because that allows me to bide my time to leave. He thinks he's brainwashed me into submission. He has no idea I'm on to him. There is only one problem—I have to collect Lily from school in a couple of hours.
A while later, I'm in front of Rose, as she watches me from the gate. I wonder if I'm doing the right thing, but force the negative thoughts from my head, zoning out Joel's voice saying, 'you can't do anything right. You're not good enough.'
'Are you ready for your first driving lesson, madam?' she says, as I near the path, which leads up to her front door, separated by several small potted plants.
'I think so.'
'What happened to you? You used to be so confident. You've got a licence, for God's sake.'
Beautiful Liar: a gripping suspense thriller Page 18