Mistakes of My Past

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Mistakes of My Past Page 18

by Emily James


  Roxy and I hug it out. “I hate it when we fight,” she says.

  “I’m not going to know what to do without you,” I tell her.

  “Sure you will. You and Will will pop out a family of trolls with shiny, smelly hair and you’ll be all set. Hell, maybe you’ll even find your way to college.”

  We both laugh and even Will joins in, maybe he didn’t hear the troll part.

  “We have the whole summer to hang out, go crazy, and teach this one some table manners.” Roxy nods her head at Will, and he looks back at her with an air of contempt as he shovels some more cookies in his mouth.

  “Hey, last Sunday, it was you who double dipped the gravy, not me. And you ate the last Yorkshire pudding. It’s you who needs to learn some discipline.”

  “Okay, we need to celebrate Roxy’s sucky-bad, but good for her, news. Bar tonight?” I ask them both.

  “I’m in,” smiles Roxy.

  “Can’t, I got Cody’s parent teacher consult, rain check?”

  I wrap my arm around Will and give him a kiss, to a chorus of gagging sounds from Roxy.

  “Of course,” I tell him.

  “Can’t wait,” Will beams, giving my bottom a small squeeze.

  * * *

  Roxy and I have a fun night. When I get home, I go over to Will’s to kiss him goodnight.

  As I leave, I see Jed spying on me again from his front yard. I do my best to pretend I haven't seen him. My plan to deal with the situation once and for all is firming up in my mind.

  When I get in, my phone pings a text from Will reminding me to take two Tylenol with a glass of water before bed. I don't feel drunk, but I want to be extra fresh for the morning because Will, Cody, and I are going to spend the day checking out re-homing centres for Flo. I don’t want to send Flo away. I’d love to keep her. But if I can find the right place for her, then Roxy is right, I need to set her free. She deserves her happy ever after, too.

  After a dreamless sleep, I get up and pour some tea. As I’m finishing my second cup, I notice Will crossing the fence on his way over. He’s two hours early and since I’m sporting floral jim-jams, a fairly hefty amount of mortification floods my face.

  I fumble around the kitchen and quickly splash some water on my face, hoping I don't look too rough.

  “Good morning, handsome.” I give Will an appreciative glance and invite him in. He’s looking casual in post work-out sweats and a hoodie. His hair is still wet and I can smell his fresh aftershave as he passes me. Overall, he looks casual, yet sexy as hell.

  “Amber, we need to talk. Something…” Will pulls at his hair, his top rides up to expose his v mark, but the worried look on his face detracts my usual interest. “I don’t want you to worry about this, okay?”

  “What is it, because ‘don’t worry’ is exactly the sort of thing a person says to someone who probably should worry.”

  Will’s mouth forms a hard line and I can feel the tension that radiates from him. A heavy weight sinks in my stomach and I feel a familiar feeling of panic begin to surface. He's holding a large brown envelope that he keeps twisting around in his hands.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this. I got this in the mailbox this morning. It came before the regular mail, must have been hand delivered, the only reason I noticed it, was because it was too big for the box.”

  Will hands me the envelope, it has his name is childishly scribbled across the front.

  I take a moment before I open it and study Will’s pale face. The concern he wears ages him five years. His hair sticks up on end, no doubt where he’s been pulling at it, worrying about me.

  “Where’s Cody?” I ask.

  “I sent her over to Mrs Stevens so you and I could talk.”

  “Uh-huh,” I nod, glad she’s safe. I steel myself and tear open the envelope.

  My eyes fog as I stare at the contents. I can’t be certain if the edges are deliberately blurred to obscure the background of the photographs, or if it’s the water pooled in my eyes misting the picture.

  One thing I am certain of is that I’ve seen these photographs before.

  * * *

  The day of my mother’s funeral I had invited some of her friends back to the house for tea and sandwiches.

  Tommy had been absent since the night she died. Mum’s friends eyed me cautiously, continually asking if I was okay, what my plans were, and if I’d been eating.

  I’d been quite underweight for a while now, what with stress, and other things. I walked around in a daze, not really taking much of anything in; it was all just white noise to me.

  Physically and emotionally drained, I’d just said goodbye to the last guest and, I went upstairs to run a bath. I’d lost my phone the night my mum died, in my absent mindedness, I supposed. I had thought it a blessing at the time, he couldn’t contact me. But, as I went into my bedroom to find some clean pyjamas, there it was, on my nightstand.

  I should have left the house there and then. But I didn’t, instead, I switched on my phone. I had over seventy notifications. I didn’t even know that many people. I wondered if they were condolence messages, following mum’s earlier funeral. I was wrong.

  Jolene23: What a disgusting bitch!

  LuckyLauren94: Look at the date. On the day her mother died. How low can you get?

  SexxxyStace999: What a dirty Ho Bag!

  Uploaded to social media were pictures of me, taken in my bedroom. I recognised my bed, the patchwork comforter my mom made, beneath my naked body. I don’t know when they were taken. I don’t remember them being taken at all. But they were posted on the day my mother died. Taken with my lost phone and uploaded to my own account.

  My eyes are closed. I look drunk or high, not like myself. The comments are awful. Friends and strangers turn on me as they comment hateful and hurtful things. I sobbed as I deleted the account. Knowing beyond all doubt, it had to be Tommy who did this to me. Not only is he the only person I’d ever undressed for, but he was also the only person who was sadistic enough to want to hurt me this badly, on what was already the worst day of my life.

  Will struggles to keep his voice even. His face is etched with pain, pain that I’m responsible for. “There was a note too, but I don’t think you should read it. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to show you them, but it didn’t feel right to keep them from you.”

  “Give me the note, please,” I ask him, holding out my hand

  “Amber, it’s just hateful words, it’s not even signed. Who sent these, was it Tommy?”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat to speak. “Just give me the note, Will!” I don’t mean to snap but my brain is in a state of shock. Life just spun one-eighty and now here I am, staring at my old life on high gloss sheets of paper. I drop them on to the island. Nausea bubbles in my stomach as I prompt Will again for the note. He pulls a crumpled sheet of paper from his back pocket.

  “It’s just hateful words. Pay no mind to it. We should call the cops, let them deal with this. People can’t go around pulling this shit. God, if I’d seen whoever left it I’d ripped their fucking heads off.”

  The note is simple, and to the point:

  Thought you might like to see what that whore of a girlfriend likes to get up to while you’re out at work. We had real fun taking these.

  It’s odd, but out of all the hurtful things Tommy has said to me, I can’t imagine these words coming from him. Perhaps it’s the distance I’ve had from his acid tongue.

  Will’s arms reach around me and his head rests on my shoulder. The gesture is too intimate and I balk from his reach and move to the other side of the island.

  “Amber, don’t push me away. We can sort this out together, I’m here for you.”

  My voice is strangled and I sound hysterical as I yell, “The note says this is what I do while you’re at work. Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to whether this is what I do while you’re at work? Doesn’t it worry you in the slightest that I’m the fucking cum bucket this note says I am?” I don’t
want him to believe this of me, of course I don’t, but I need to end this and get out of here now. I can’t see that I have any other options.

  “Of course I don’t believe that. Amber, breathe, we’ll call the cops and you can stay with me. I'll protect you, until this creep is locked up.”

  I turn, not able to look at Will or the photos anymore. If I stay with Will, I could put him and Cody in danger, which is a risk I am not prepared to take.

  “NO! I have to leave, I have to go now.”

  “Amber, where are you going to go?” My dad says as he walks into the kitchen. I spin and my eyes dart to the photographs. I rush toward Dad and put my arms around him.

  “Dad, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you weren’t back until next week.” I edge back and let Dad put his suitcase on the floor, obscuring his view of the island.

  “Where are you going, Amber?” My dad asks again.

  “Oh, work, I have to go to work.” I tell him and flash him a fake smile which probably looks deranged as I’m so on edge.

  “No, you don’t, Amber. It’s your weekend off,” Will interrupts and I glare at him. He's somehow gathered up the photographs, into the envelope, which is in his hands.

  “Is today Saturday? Oh yeah—silly me. I must have lost track of the days, I’ve been working lots to help out. So, um… Dad, it’s so great to have you back.” I attempt small talk, but all I can see is the danger I could be putting the people I love in and the envelope that has surely grown in size and glows like a beacon.

  “It’s good to be back,” Dad says, pulling me in for another hug. “Are you sure you’re okay, Amber? You look very pale.”

  “Actually, I was going to go take a nap. I hope you don’t mind. It’s exhausting, this work malarkey, I think I’ve got a headache.”

  Wills eyes bore into mine, pleading, but there is no way I can let my dad see those photographs. I need to get far away from here, and fast, but it will have to wait until my dad has gone back to Chicago. Maybe I can say I’m going to Florida with Roxy.

  I give Dad a small smile and head towards the stairs. As I pass Will, I lower my head, not able to bear his look of concern. I whip the envelope out from the crook of his arm and disappear out of view.

  Chapter 23

  Will

  I wait with Patrick downstairs while Amber takes her ‘nap.’ After a half an hour I even text her: Come downstairs, we need to talk and figure this out. We’ll go get a coffee somewhere.

  Amber doesn’t reply.

  I consider just telling Patrick what I know, but Amber’s so stubborn I’m not sure she’d forgive me, and also, I don’t yet know exactly how much trouble Amber is in. The photographs were hand delivered. Does that mean her ex is here, and what does that mean? Does he want her back, is she in danger?

  “What’s up Will, you look tense? Is business okay?”

  “Yep.” I feel so tightly wound. Patrick looks at me for more of an explanation. “The windows go in on Monday and then the main build is water tight, ready for the electrics. I start the Penfold job the week after that, business is going great.” I smile at Patrick, but my head is yelling: More than can be said for my relationship with your daughter! But he doesn’t know about that yet so I keep my mouth shut.

  “I don’t know why, but I expected to see you happier about it, Will.” Patrick’s eyes are searching mine.

  I make an excuse, “Just got a headache, too, must be a bug going around.”

  “You should get yourself home, get some rest.”

  “No,” I practically yell. I need to speak with Amber, even if I have to grow roots in this kitchen. “I’m fine, so tell me about you, Patrick, what’s going on with you?”

  “All work at the moment. Tell me, Will, how does Amber seem to you? Do you think she’s happy? I’ve been feeling very guilty about leaving her alone so much. It’s her mother’s birthday tomorrow, I wondered if we should do something but I’m not sure how to approach it.” Patrick looks thoughtful, rubbing the back of his head.

  “She seems fine,” I lie. “Always seems to be busy, working, kickboxing, she’s been out running, her friend Roxy comes over plenty. What did you have in mind for the anniversary?”

  “Well, and please don’t think any less of me for this, I don’t usually break the law, but, when I brought Amber here, she was very keen to bring her mother with her. I don’t think she was ready to scatter her ashes. At the time, Amber was, well, she was quite unwell… So, to ease the burden I, well, I hid the urn in my suitcase and carried it through customs. I figured if Amber wanted to keep her mother close, it was the right thing to do. Although, now I’m not so sure, sometimes she just seems so far away. I worry bringing her here wasn’t the right thing to do…” Patrick’s voice trails off.

  “You did the right thing, Patrick; maybe it would be good for Amber to think about scattering the ashes.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. It’s an important part of the grieving process, letting go.”

  I hang around over at Amber’s until I have no choice but to leave to get back for Cody. Somehow though, I think she was counting on that.

  * * *

  The weekend goes like this, I walk into a room, and Amber walks out. She says she’s taking Flo for a walk, I say I’ll go, too, so she invites Patrick and Cody. I’m unable to get five minutes alone with her and by Sunday teatime, while we’re all doing the dishes after Amber has cooked, I’m ready to explode. She looks hollow, she’s obviously not slept, and it’s like her thoughts are so consumed she’s on a five-minute delay behind everyone else.

  After dinner, Patrick announces he’s going upstairs to pack his suitcase as he has an early flight in the morning. Before he does, Amber ushers everyone into a photograph which she takes on her phone, using Cody’s selfie stick. It’s then that I realise what she’s planning, she’s getting ready to leave.

  * * *

  I stay up all night and drink five cups of coffee, just to stay alert, as I watch the guest house. I feel no better than the asshole across the street but, I know if Amber’s planning on leaving, she’ll wait until her father’s left for work to avoid explaining why she is going.

  The rain batters against the window and the wind howls. It’s going to be a shitty day, which, suits my shitty mood.

  I check the clock, five a.m., shit should start happening soon. Right on cue, Patrick’s car pulls away from the driveway. A couple of minutes later, Amber’s light pops on.

  I’ve pulled out one of Cody’s old baby monitors from the garage, to take with me in case she wakes. I know the range is good enough from when I caught her and Megan using it as a two-way walkie across the street.

  I’m all set to go and confront her, to ask for some answers when I notice Jed stagger out of his front door and across the street. He’s swaying like he’s been drinking as he bows his head to cover from the rain. I wonder what he thinks he’s doing, walking right up Amber’s driveway. When he gets to the backdoor and lets himself in with the key he pulls from the pocket of his jeans, I seethe.

  I’m out the door and across the fence in seconds. Jed’s already inside. He heads through the kitchen which is only slightly illuminated by the approaching dawn. He leans against the counter in the far corner of the room, he’s saying something and I strain to hear him.

  A red haze fills my vision as my mind wonders back to the last time he spoke to me and I’m ready to spill blood. He told me then that he’d been sleeping with her, but I didn't believe him.

  There’s movement in the doorway to the hall and Amber cautiously walks towards him, her head downcast toward… Fuck. He’s holding a gun out towards her. They haven’t seen me. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to rush Jed. But if I did that, the gun could go off and I can’t risk that.

  Jed’s voice is raised with excitement, “That’s right, pretty lady, you and I are going to have that fun today. I’ve seen some pretty dirty stuff starring you on the Internet and I think it’s time y
ou brought that shit home for papa.”

  The grin on his face is sickening, but, the glint of the gun causes me to pause from moving. I take my cell out of my pocket and dial 911, whispering to the operator to send the police now.

  “They’re on their way,” I hear the operator say before I hang up.

  Jed has moved in closer towards Amber. He grabs hold of her hair, rolling it in between his fingers. He continues, “I shared some stills of your movie with your boyfriend. I hope you don’t mind. If I wanted to get my fun, I knew I’d need that fuckin’ mountain of shit out the way. Wasn’t expecting a visit from Daddy, but I thought hey-ho, it could be leverage for a regular thing between you and me. We could make our very own home movies. I bet you’d like that, huh? From your video, I can see that you’re into some pretty fucked up shit. I like that about you.” Jed turns Amber so that he's behind her and cocks the gun to her head.

  I hear Amber, her voice thick with emotion plead, “Please don’t. Jed, you’ve been drinking, I can smell it. Please just take yourself back across the street before you do something you’ll regret.”

  Adrenaline curses through my body as I hover by the backdoor. I’m just waiting for an opportunity, for his attention to be diverted. I need to knock Jed out and rescue my girl.

  “Aw, baby, you are gonna enjoy this.”

  Jed pulls Amber to him, grabbing her face and putting his filthy lips on her. The gun looks only loosely held in his hand which rests on the counter. The scene I'm witnessing is too much.

  A rush of anger builds and surges from me. Using the heel of my boot, I hammer open the door and it smashes against the wall. Jed’s face snaps to mine and I rush him, grappling for the gun. In the chaos, Amber is pushed out of the way and the floor thumps as she lands.

  I grip the tip of the gun with my right hand, pushing it back, jarring Jed’s wrist. I’ve got all of my weight pushed against him, backing him further into the corner of the kitchen units. My right hand raises and I clench my fist and thrust it in to his face, one, two, and three… I lose count.

 

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