A Family By Design

by Olivia Rytwinski

  We moved off and rounded the bend. Some way ahead I saw a hazy orange glow and what looked like clouds or mist. We drew near and I saw smoke. It sparked and swirled in small spirals above the trees.

  “Oh Christ,” I said, and craned forward. “The house is on fire. What if Lyssa’s stuck inside?”

  She slammed her foot down. Flames blazed from an upstairs window, and curled up onto the roof.

  I flung open the door and shouted over the raging wind. “That’s the room Lyssa was in.”

  “Is he locked in?” Constable Briggs said.

  “No. But he’s injured.”

  They glanced at me briefly, and after exchanging words, Constable Briggs raced to the front door.

  The female officer turned on her radio. “Request fire service – Deeren Farm, fire taking hold.”

  “Katriina, we’ll scout around and shout for Lyssa. She could be hiding and too scared to come out. It’s possible Corey isn’t in the house so stick close. Constable Briggs is checking indoors.”

  I nodded. “There are some outbuildings, we should check those.”

  She beamed her torch at the house and into the woodland.

  “Lyssa,” I shouted. “The police are here. You’re safe.”

  The wind growled and intensified and thrashed through the trees to feed the flames. I glanced upwards. The fire was spreading fast, and I prayed that Lyssa wasn’t trapped inside.

  A figure appeared at an upstairs window, his face twisted and terrified. He smashed the panes of glass with his fists and leaned over the ledge as thick smoke billowed around him.

  I grabbed the officer’s arm. “Look there - -”

  But he had hurled himself out and we watched as he landed with a bone-cracking thud just feet away. The officer ran up and shone her torch over him. One of his legs had rotated at an unnatural angle and blood swam across his abdomen. His eyelids wavered, neither fully open nor closed.

  The officer knelt down and pressed her fingers to his neck. “We need to move him.”

  I felt sickened to be this near to him, but far more than that I felt relieved.

  The heat intensified, and the flames burned through the roof. The fire had become an inferno. A window blew out – the ear-splitting crash shook me – and shards of glass sprayed down to the gravel like falling scalpels. More cracks and bangs followed as the blaze grew more frenzied. Its tremendous power raged through the corridors and rooms, and tore apart the walls and ceilings. The flames swirled and twisted, luminous-red, brutal and bloodshot.

  Black ash and burning debris fell around us. We took Corey’s arms and hauled his limp, trailing body under the cover of the trees. As we lay him back down, his eyes rolled, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

  The officer called for an ambulance. “Deeren Farm, Tippelin. Adult male, jumped from a burning building - -”

  “He has knife wounds,” I added.

  She looked at me and nodded. “Medics needed urgently,” she paused. “Copy that.” She returned the radio to her breast pocket and looked at him, then to me. “An ambulance is en-route, it’s procedure.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Katriina, we will find Lyssa, and whatever you needed to do in there… all will be taken into consideration. Let’s focus on Lyssa. And you need attention. You’re limping.”

  “I’m OK. I just want to find her.” I sobbed.

  Officer Briggs reappeared through the smoke, hunched over and coughing. He collapsed onto the ground and wiped at his streaming eyes. He glanced at Corey, then up at the officer, in search of an explanation.

  “He jumped,” she said. “An ambulance is en route.”

  “I checked the… downstairs and Lyssa… wasn’t there. I only got half way up the stairs. Too risky to go further.” He struggled to speak and coughed hard.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, and held his arm as he bent over and tried to regain his breath.

  “I’m gonna need a few minutes, and I’ll stop him from running off, eh?” He gave a crooked grin and coughed again.

  “We’ll keep searching,” she said.

  We moved off in opposite directions.

  Where was Lyssa? It didn’t make sense. Maybe she had got as far as the village. But, what if she was still inside the house? What if she’d had an asthma attack and had collapsed somewhere amongst the trees and undergrowth, unable to breathe, move or shout for help? I panicked that we might not find her in time. She couldn’t have gone through all of this only to escape and for that to happen to her. My mind erupted beneath a wave of new fears.

  The flames illuminated the surrounding area and into the woods.

  As I ran I called, “Lyssa, it’s Mummy.”

  At the carriage arch I met up with Constable Newton.

  “Maybe she ran into the woods,” I said.

  “Let’s get around to the front,” she said.

  The fierce heat, falling tiles and other bits of masonry gave us no option but to move back from the conflagration.

  We hurried beneath the trees. Suddenly, I felt dizzy; my mind and body exhausted. I had reached my physical and emotional limit. I became aware of the reflection of blue flashing lights on the trees and knew that backup had finally arrived. I tripped and fell to my knees and the officer hooked my arm and pulled me upright. We passed the Nissan, which was now alight and with thick, acrid smoke pouring from it, then we turned onto the gravel. Wild flames and smoke billowed from the downstairs windows and doorway, but I saw through the curling smoke that there was an ambulance and several police cars. Officers and paramedics moved about, and then I spotted two people emerge from behind an ambulance. They walked towards me, one of whom was a girl with long brown curly hair - must be about eleven years old.

  We both cried and ran the last few steps to one another.

  “Lyssa! Oh my baby,” I sobbed.

  “Mummy, you came,” she cried and held out her arms.

  I grasped her like my lifeline, folded my arms around her, and as I clasped her tightly to my chest, I felt I would never let her go again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Retreat

  I am floating, naked and unfolded in the semi-darkness.

  My limbs are outstretched and my hair drifts in gentle waves. I raise my head and watch my toes break the water’s surface. I feel whole, my mind is calm as it meanders gently through soft swathes of carefree thoughts. Such a blissful state of tranquillity finally allowed.

  I am not alone. Lyssa is here with me. I am, we are, without husband, friend, lover, father… lawbreaker, villain and thief, hider of truths and keeper of dark secrets.

  It has been three weeks and three days since I found Lyssa, and finally, I allow myself this time; a chance for renewal, a search for a new state of being. It is a time to meditate, to reflect and ruminate, to pass judgement upon them and on myself.

  Corey Simpson is dead. He breathed his final breath before he reached the ambulance. Of that I am glad. Yes, I know that if it weren’t for me he would still be very much alive… to continue controlling, drugging, abusing and raping. I have to live with that knowledge and a guilt-ridden conscience, and handle the remorse. I will learn to live with it, and yes I think I can come to terms with it. Some people will want to judge me. Let them. Others may understand.

  I am eternally thankful to have Lyssa safely back with me. She is alive, my own flesh and blood. Throughout my forty years I have never needed anything more than this one thing. My precious, amazing daughter Lyssa is alive, and more than that, she is going to be all right. Of that I feel sure. Her counselling has begun, and her psychiatrist tells me Lyssa talks and opens up, that she is vulnerable, but also that she is strong. Lyssa talks to me too, about how Corey treated her, what he said, her fears and thoughts during her terrible ordeal, though some of the details are sketchy. We will continue to talk for as long as she needs to. I want to share her burdens, hold them and carry them far away.

  My counsellor mostly sits and listens and allows me to talk about anything and
everything. My fears for Lyssa and the after effects of what she has been through, Louis, Corey, my childhood, my family… guilt and murder. More than anything now I find I need to talk about Max, my profound anger at him and yet still my love for him. A deep love that refuses to fade, however much I want it to.

  And finally, I think about how even despite my best physical efforts of recent weeks, there is a new inexplicable life which grows inside of me and wants to live. For all of these things I feel thankful.

  THE END

  “Take the life-lie away from the average man,

  and straight away you take away his happiness.”

  Henrik Ibsen

  About the Author

  Olivia Rytwinski grew up in Worcestershire, England. She studied English at Worcester University and later Marketing at Postgraduate level in Leeds. Today, she lives in rural Yorkshire, England, with her family and dog.

  Visit her website at www.oliviarytwinski.com