Mistakes of My Past

by Emily James

  When the blood starts to splatter across the worktop, I stop and clench his throat. I squeeze harder and it feels so fucking good. Jed’s eyes bulge and his hand goes slack on the gun so that I can take it.

  I don’t hear the sirens or Amber telling me to let go.

  I just feel the son of a bitch’s life source fading.

  Chapter 24

  Amber

  “So he just fucking waltzed in here and pulled a gun on you?” Roxy’s eyes pop with disbelief and her knuckles are white as she clenches them with rage.

  “Well, he used a spare key first to get in, one which he must have stolen from the cupboard. I saw him in the kitchen when I was just bringing my bag down the stairs…”

  My voice trails off as I eye my duffel bag, still in the hallway. I hadn’t yet told Roxy about my planned hiatus. I figured she’d want me to stay and fight, far better to get set up somewhere new first.

  “And then Will kicked the door in and strangled that mother-fucker? Yay, Will, I’d have loved to have seen that jerk-stains face!” Roxy grins a little too freely as we both look at the door. The handle's sheared off, and the lock component is still askew on the floor. “It’s just a shame he didn’t actually end him. It's what he deserved.”

  “I don’t think Will would like to live with knowing he killed someone. It's not something you get used to, I imagine.” I sigh and change the subject, “Do you know a good locksmith?”

  “Surely Will, your man that can, will fix that. Are you talking now?”

  “How did you know we were fighting?” I hadn’t got around to telling Roxy about Will getting the photographs in his mailbox.

  “Oh, come on, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife yesterday. When’s he back, so you guys can make up?”

  “He’s driving Cody into school. What with all the commotion this morning, with the cops and the paramedics being here, she missed the school bus.” I look down and examine my shaking hands, “I wish she hadn’t seen that.”

  “Sounds to me like she slept through all the bad bits, don’t beat yourself up over this. If it hadn’t been for Will, you might be dead in a ditch somewhere. What was it that cop said? Previous allegations, now they’re digging up his stuff with his ex, I’ll bet they throw the key away.”

  “I just don’t get where he got the pictures from. Last I knew Tommy had taken them all down. He promised they wouldn’t resurface. Why would he put them back up on the internet? I gave him everything, Roxy, the house, the money, what more can I possibly give him?”

  “Amber, there’s something I need to tell you…”

  Roxy’s interrupted when Will pushes the broken door open and enters, holding Flo on her leash.

  “I’ll fix that.” He points at the door handle. “I thought I'd stop off to collect your new dog. I was as quick as I could be. How are you doing?”

  Will walks straight to my side and puts his arm around my shoulders, holding me up like he did through all the police questions. I stroke Flo, pleased that there is one positive from all this. Where Jed's going is no place for dogs.

  “Thanks, Will,” I shift in my seat, uneasy. “What were you going to tell me, Roxy?” I ask as she looks down at the hem of her jumper, deep in thought.

  “You know what guys, I think you two need to talk, like really talk before you kiss and makeup.” She eyes me specifically and I know what she’s getting at. “I’m out of here; I’ll call you later, Ambs, just do me a favour and stay out of trouble.” She grins reassuringly and winks at me.

  “Sure, Roxy, I’ll see you later.” I gulp, as Roxy walks out the door into the pouring rain.

  I know it’s show time. Fight or flight. Whatever I decide, Will deserves some answers.

  “How are you feeling, can I get you anything? You look cold, should I get you a blanket? Shock can be dangerous. I’ll get you one, just in case.” Will disappears into the hall, he’s babbling like he’s nervous, and I wonder if he is experiencing shock too. He almost killed a man today, to protect me.

  “You - your bag is in the hall. Are you still leaving?” Will asks, frozen in the doorway, blanket in hand. He moves toward me, slowly and with caution, like I might run at any moment.

  “Will… I…” I can’t find the words to say, his face echoes his hurt.

  “What will it take to make you stay? Do you want me to say that I’ll miss you—I’ll fucking miss you. Do you want me to say I love you? I am in love with you.” He brings me the blanket and wraps it around my shoulders looking deeply in my eyes. “But if you can't trust me, if you can't open up to me, how can you ever lean on me? We’ll spend our whole lives misinterpreting one another and that’s what will tear us apart, not psychos like Jed, or fucking Tommy… It's not just me I have to think about. Cody loves you too. If it were just me, hell, I’d take whatever I could get. But she needs someone who plans to stick around. I can be patient, but can you be constant in our lives when you’re so used to running?”

  Tears burn in my eyes as I look at his heart breaking in front of me.

  “I'm not who you think I am. When your parents died, you stepped up and took care of your family. You'll hate me for what I'm responsible for. I hate myself.”

  “I could never hate you. Please, just tell me what keeps holding you back, keeping you from moving forward?”

  “I can't. I wish I could.”

  “You mean you’re not willing to try.”

  There’s lightning in the sky and the room momentarily flashes a glow on Will's pained face.

  Will picks up his keys from the counter, and stroking my face one last time, he walks out the backdoor for what I am certain is the last time.

  * * *

  I was in bad shape when Pete arrived to fix the door. I watched him drill and screw the new handle into place and when he gave me the two keys that came with the new lock it occurred to me that this was the end. All that lay ahead of me now was a life on the run. What would my dad think? I know he would be worried. What would become of Cody? I would miss her. Roxy would have some choice words for my departure, she would be right, of course. But most of all, I would miss Will, who I knew in all honesty was good and decent, and that I loved him. Would I ever find that again? I doubted it.

  Pete’s parting words were, “I’m not sure what’s going on with you and Will, but you should call him. He’s pretty upset and you, well, you look pretty damn broken.”

  I just nodded and stared at the door, now fixed and as good as new, wishing that Will would show up unannounced. And then I thought how unfair it was of me to expect him to come to me when he’d already made most of the concessions in our relationship.

  It might be too late, but faced with nothing or everything, the choice was simple, I had to be brave.

  I picked up my phone and slowly dialled the number I knew by heart, if only to give my thumping heart time to ease. I moved to the sofa, and Flo, feeling sorry for me, came and put her head on my lap.

  He answers on the second ring, “Amber?”

  “It’s probably good for you to have closure,” I say. But I don’t want him to have closure. I want him to want me anyway, despite my past, despite my mistakes. I’m tired of containing all these secrets, secrets that only seem to be destroying the good in my life. So I start to explain and Will doesn’t interrupt or show his disgust. He just listens…

  * * *

  “When Mum got the diagnosis she suddenly started being uncharacteristically practical. We had a big old house that needed a lot of work to modernise it and she kept saying she needed to get her affairs in order before she ran out of time.

  Malcolm, our family's solicitor, came to the house frequently and Mum spoke frankly about what was to be done. It hadn’t occurred to me that Tommy was paying attention, keeping count. At the time he acted so… compassionately.

  Mum didn’t want to go into a hospice. She wanted to die at home, in her own bed. But, after a particularly bad night, with Mum crying out in pain, I had no choice but to call for t
he doctor. She'd run out of morphine. Social Services were called. They said I'd either administered too much morphine, too regularly, or it was either lost or stolen. Morphine is a controlled drug, you see. It has a street value.

  Tommy held my hand through the meeting, and told them I'd been absent-minded, that I wasn't coping, that maybe I had given Mum too much. Or maybe I was taking it as a coping mechanism.

  Everyone, apart from Mum and me, nodded their heads like this was plausible. They said that the physical demand of caring, coupled with my grief, had finally become too much.

  The social worker suggested that we have nurses come in, to see to Mum’s physical needs and to give me more support.

  Tommy disagreed. He said he had concerns that even with support I wasn’t up to caring for her and he asked me, “Amber, do you want your mother to suffer?” I couldn’t answer yes, because of course I didn’t want her to suffer.

  Mum, seeing how upset I was, was concerned that she was a burden. Even as weak as she was, she insisted she'd be fine in the hospice, to give me a rest. But we all knew she wouldn't be returning home.

  Things changed when Mum wasn’t in the house anymore. I stopped going to Uni and visited Mum every day, even though Tommy didn’t like it.

  I'd managed to keep the dark side of my relationship from Mum, but, on her more lucid days, she began to notice the way I moved differently, subtle flinches and frightened looks. She knew something was wrong.

  I didn’t want to burden her, but, once she'd begun to suspect, she confronted me.

  I couldn't lie to her so I tried to downplay it, excusing the marks on my skin as a consequence of a clumsy fall or absent mind. Mum begged me to leave him, but she knew, as long as she was in the hospice, I wasn't going anywhere.

  We watched each other suffer and it was killing us both.

  Tommy wanted the house and he wanted Mum’s money. I don’t think there was ever a point in which he actually wanted me. I was just a means to an end.

  The last night I saw my mother, I said goodbye for now, it’s what I would always say, and got as far as my car before I realised I had left my scarf behind.

  Knowing Tommy would be furious if he saw me walking around without it, with my collar of purple bruises, I went back into the hospice to collect it. As I approached Mum’s room, the alarms were shrieking and nurses were running in. I pushed passed them right into a nightmare. She was convulsing violently, her face swollen beyond all recognition.

  I begged them to help her, but, she’d signed a Do Not Resuscitate form. See, when someone is considered to be dying, resuscitation at end of life is considered to prolong the suffering. People can be revived only to be brain dead or with broken ribs and in significantly more pain, she didn’t want that to happen to her.

  I watched her gasp her last, pained breaths.

  I yelled at the nurses. I told them she was in anaphylactic shock—I knew the signs, she was allergic to nuts, it was on her notes, they had to help her, surely.

  A big burly sort of nurse hugged me and tried to comfort me. “It’s okay, dear, let her slip away, she’s tired now.” The more I shouted, the harder she gripped me, she reminded me about the DNR. “It's in her best interests,” she said.

  I held her limp body. They said they’d give me all the time I needed, but our time had already run out. Mum had a photograph of us in Paris at the side of her bed. Behind the photograph was a bag of chocolate, the kind that my mum always avoided at all costs, because they contained nuts.

  That's when I knew. She ended her own life, to save mine.”

  I take some tissue from the box on the table, to dry my eyes, and continue to tell Will, needing him to know everything.

  “I’m not sure how much time passed, but eventually I went home. It was the day of my twenty-first birthday.

  I pulled up the driveway and noticed the lights were all on. I could hear the music booming from the road. Tommy met me at the door, behind him a party was in full swing.

  He took one disgusted look at me, and noticing my distress, took me through to the kitchen where he handed me a drink. It tasted sour but I downed it down. I remember wondering if it was shock bringing the bitter taste to my mouth. Maybe it was the knowledge that I was about to leave Tommy. I had every intention of walking out the door that night.

  Tommy told me the party was to celebrate my birthday, but no one cheered surprise when I walked in. They continued to dance, and drink. Two unknown bodies dry humped on my mother's Chesterfield settee.

  A small nod of understanding was the only acknowledgement that Tommy extended when I told him that she had died. He wasn't surprised when I announced that I was leaving. He didn't even lose his temper when I told him my solicitor would be in touch. I wondered why all of a sudden it was so easy to leave, now that it didn't matter—now that Mum was gone.

  I wondered if it was the audience that silenced him. Tommy liked to keep up appearances.

  He followed me upstairs, away from the prying eyes of the crowd, none of whom even seemed to notice me. I stumbled on the last step up the stairs and wondered when I last ate. Feeling dizzy, I sat on my bed when I got in my room. Tommy sat next to me.

  I didn't feel myself. I thought it was shock. It'd be normal to feel shock after everything that'd happened that day.

  Tommy pushed me back on the bed and I had no energy to stop him. I remember asking him to stop, wishing I could stop him, but my arms and legs were powerless like they were held down by a heavy weight. I think I passed out for some parts of it. The vision of what he was doing to me came in flashes, similar to a strobe, or it was the flash of the camera.

  * * *

  I pause. Will hasn’t said anything the whole time I’ve been speaking and suddenly I wish he was here, with his arms around me, holding me up.

  “Amber, are you still there?” he asks. His voice sounds deeper with emotion.

  I sniff and wipe at my eyes. “Yes, I’m still here. You see, that’s why you could never love me. You lost your mum, you told me you would give anything for one more moment with her, and my mother left me through choice, because I’m selfish, and a coward.”

  “Amber, make some tea to calm you.”

  I do as he suggests, and move Flo so that I can get up. She snores lightly as I shift her weight to the other side of the sofa. I pad into the kitchen, still snivelling, and wait for Will to tell me that he can see no future for us.

  As I walk into the kitchen, I notice a shadow in the window of the backdoor. Will’s head leans against the pain of glass as the rain continues to fall in sheets. Without hesitation, I rush to the door and open it. Water falls from him as fast as it falls from the sky, pooling at his feet. I can’t tell if there are tears in his eyes or if they are wet from the rain.

  And then, as if the rain has stopped, all I see is him. I remember the first time he held me together and the taste of his kiss. He searches my eyes and I stand aside, wishing he'd walk right in. He scoops me up and cradles me in both his hands, pushing the door behind him with his boot.

  “Never think that I won’t stand by you, I love you. I want to kill him for what he did to you but none of that was your fault. He knew you were vulnerable and instead of building you back up he tried to destroy what was left of you. You are strong and selfless. You took in Flo and protected her from Jed, and you’ve made me feel a part of something special. Every day your courage grows and your mother would be proud of you.”

  He kisses me and I feel home, where I am safe, loved, and valued, and it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world.

  Chapter 25

  Will

  The wind is blistering as Amber and I walk down the steps of the West Chester Police Department.

  “It’s like I said, there’s just no evidence. Tommy’s clever. I wasn't even certain I was drugged until the day of the funeral when the photographs surfaced.”

  I try to contain the anger from creeping onto my face; my knuckles are white as my hands squeeze into fists.r />
  “At least they're sending a police officer over to your mother’s house to interview him, maybe he’ll slip up,” I say, trying to stay positive.

  Amber’s hand holds my bicep to stop me, as I open the passenger side of my truck.

  “Thank you for coming with me and for believing in me. But there is no evidence, you heard it yourself. He posted the video from my own account, it's too late to prove he drugged me and the bruises on my body are all healed. All I can do now is stop the bank accounts and ask my solicitor to serve an eviction notice. But it’s a start, right?”

  I nod my head and close the passenger door. If I could get to England, I’d turf him out myself, and make damn sure he was incapable of hurting anyone again.

  The wind catches the door and slams it behind me harder than I expected. Amber flinches at the sound. My anger is not helping matters so I try to dial it back a little by taking Amber’s hand in mine.

  “What you just did in there, it took real guts, baby. I am with you all the way, whatever you need from me.”

  She has such a sweet look on her face as she nibbles on the side of her lip.

  “I know you're nervous about how to tell your dad. But I'll help you. Tommy, Jed, he deserves to know all of it. I won’t leave your side, we can tell him together.”

  I power up the engine and switch the heater to Amber’s direction, and then pull out of the parking lot to head east. The doors and windows over at the main house are due for installation today and I want to be there to make sure the workman does a good job.

  Amber pulls out her cell and frowns at the screen. My own cell rings and I look at Amber apologetically. “Do you mind if I take this, it might be work?”

  “Of course not,” she replies, deep in thought.

  I answer with my usual, “Denver and Son Construction.” I’m right. Some guy wants me to price up a job tomorrow. We make a date for next week as I explain I’m out of town tomorrow. I end the call and sling my cell on the dash. Amber is still scrolling through her messages, her little brows furrow with concern.