by Evie Rose
*****
After dropping Ricky at school, I have a shower and get ready for my first day of work. I’m slightly nervous but excited as well. It feels like such a big achievement to earn my own income, to not rely on a husband, even if it’s only a measly wage per hour from a coffee shop. I still have a fair amount of time until I have to be there, but this being my first day and all; I’d rather be ready too early, than running late.
I’m still on a high from my night with Luke, my body hums with the residual pleasure I can still feel. I never knew sex could be so amazing. I’ve never experienced anything remotely close with Joseph, as to what I shared with Luke last night.
Adrenalin buzzes through me at the way my life is changing - a potential new man, my first ever job, becoming independent. Everything is falling into place. Getting involved with someone new so soon isn’t as scary as I thought it would be. Luke makes everything better, not worse and if we start dating, it doesn’t mean I can’t still stand on my own two feet. I can still support Ricky and myself, still move into our own place and spend time with Luke.
It feels incredible to be doing simple things in life without the need to explain my every action. If I don’t want to make the bed or pick the clothes up off the floor, I simply leave it the mess it is. It feels fantastic to have a purpose other than just being a mum and a housewife. Best of all, it feels unbelievable not to be walking on eggshells around an abusive husband.
Today is the beginning of my new life, a better life, and starting it by cuddling with Luke on the couch, sounds absolutely perfect. I’m not that same silly girl I was when I was younger, I’m not delusional and rushing into a happily ever after. I’m happy to take things slow and see what comes of it, in fact when I get home this afternoon, I’ll be searching for a new place to live. The last thing I want is for us to be in each other’s pockets all the time and get sick of each other.
Hopping out of the shower, I towel dry before dressing in my black skirt and white blouse. I comb my hair and tie it into a neat ponytail, before picking up the glass on my bedside table to take to the kitchen, and go in search of Luke.
His voice drifts down the hallway, “She heard one of my nightmares last night. My screaming must have woken her up.”
I turn around to give them some privacy when I hear Jake ask, “Are you still seeing Jenni?” freezing me in place.
Who the hell is Jenni?
My feet are glued to the floor, as I hold my breath waiting to hear what they say next.
“I’m going to have to tell her, but how? How the hell do I bring up something like that? There’s no easy way to tell her that my family died in a house fire, that I’m the bastard who killed them,” Luke’s declaration rings in my ears, resonates through my mind.
The glass I’m holding slips through my fingers and falls to the floor, smashing into a million pieces, tiny shards piercing me, ripping me apart as I go into shock. The breath I was holding, rushes out of me in a loud gasp. My feet feel like lead weights as I force them to move, to get back to the solitude of my room and process what I’ve just heard. How can it be true? Luke is supposed to be my safe person.
“Shit,” Luke curses and I hear his footsteps crunch over the glass as he follows me down the hall. They echo off the tiles, like his words in my head.
‘My family died in a house fire, I’m the bastard who killed them.’
He burned them alive, just like Joseph tried to do to Ricky and me. On autopilot I go into my room, shutting the door behind me. My stomach churns with the horrific revelation. I can’t make sense of it. Panic crushes me, my breaths become laboured.
I need to get out of here.
A light knock comes from the other side of the door, ricocheting through my already pounding skull.
“Roxi, it’s not what you think. Can I come in, please?”
I don't answer, my voice won’t work. My brain, too clouded with confusion, my throat too clogged up with a whirlwind of emotions. The door creaks open and Luke warily walks over to me, resting his hand on my arm.
“Don’t touch me,” I shriek. I’m unsettled. I don’t know what to think, I need space. I pull out of his grasp, making a dash to get my bag, to distance myself from him.
Before I get very far, he grips my wrist, making me stop. “I said don’t touch me!” I’m trembling with anger. I feel betrayed, hurt, in complete disarray. He drops my arm and puts a gap between us, as I start to throw clothing into a plastic bag I find at the bottom of the closet.
“Roxi, listen to me,” his frantic voice only intensifies my nerves.
From the corner of my eye, I see him slump down to the floor. Dropping his head in his hands, he starts to cry. My gut twists at his obvious pain, my heart betraying my head. I ignore it. He deceived me. I won’t be sucked into this type of relationship again. Won’t be involved with a guy who’s capable of violent behaviour. Murder. My hands start to shake and I drop the bag.
I need to get the fuck out of here. Now.
My fragile new world is falling to pieces. Cautiously, I move towards the door, scared to get too close to him. Afraid he might hurt me. What else don’t I know about him?
Luke looks up at me and I stop moving, my heart in my throat. “Fuck. Please listen,” he bellows between sobs. “It’s not what you think.”
He moves to stand up and I back away, the room closing in on me. “Don’t get any closer.” My voice wobbles. I hate how petrified I sound. Quickly skimming the room for a weapon to defend myself, I settle for the lamp on the dresser, lifting it above my head. “I said back off!”
With wide eyes, he holds up his hands and walks backwards, a meter or so. “Don’t be frightened of me. You’ve got this all wrong. Please, let me explain.”
The lump in my throat burns, a solid ball of agony choking me up. Through my trembles, I hold firm, not taking my eyes off him, waiting for him to leave me alone.
Defeated, he sinks back to the floor. I watch him lower and my gaze comes to rest on the blood soaking into the carpet. Twinges of pity weave through me chest. Why do I keep falling for assholes? Why do I have to care?
With effort, I feign indifference, a complete lack of sympathy, “Your feet, they’re bleeding.” However, my hands itch to go and check him over. I’m torn. The Luke I once knew, and the new information I hold shredding me apart.
He shrugs, “The glass in the hall.” Groaning he rubs his hands over his face. “This is such a mess.”
No shit.
I lower the lamp but still grip it tightly as I inch towards the door. The tortured expression he wears sends an ache through me. Tears spill down my face, as I move slow and steady.
Jake appears in the doorway, blocking my path. I swallow down the distress I feel.
“Let me pass.”
He holds his hand against the frame. “No. I’m not letting Luke’s stupidity get the better of him. His view’s obscured. He’s no killer.” I scrutinize Jake, for any signs that he’s lying, however, he’s nothing but serious. My heart rate picks up pace, not in anxiety, but in hope. The grip I have on my makeshift weapon loosens. I believe him, and he can see it. He drops his arm.
“It was an accident and he was just a kid.” Jake shakes his head and exhales, his sympathy palpable. “He’s never stopped blaming himself for what happened. It’s not his fault though. He forgot to turn the stove off. It was a tragic mistake.”
Luke whimpers in a tightly wound ball on the floor. Through blurry vision, my watery eyes sting, as I look down at him, the misguided conceptions that fuelled my sudden fear, leaking out of me.
I drop down beside him and he glances up at me. Grief emanates off him in waves. His eyes are pleading with me to give him a chance. In this moment, he appears completely unsure of himself, and more lost and full of sorrow, than I’ve ever seen him.
“Please, let me explain,” he begs.
My heart cracks at his appearance. I wrap my arms around my legs, hugging myself for support. I’m not quite ready
to reach out to him yet but I want to know what plagues him. “Go ahead,” I encourage.
He takes a few deep breaths, bracing himself. “I feel responsible for what happened. The guilt’s eaten away at me every minute of every day. It consumes my thoughts, influences my actions, and haunts my dreams.”
How could I forget his nightmare?
“No! Let go of me, I have to get in there!”
He wanted to help them. He didn’t want them to die. An image of a younger Luke trying to save his family, watching on as they perished in a fire, smacks into the forefront of my mind. Horror splinters through my chest. I reach out to comfort him, sliding my hand down his leg. My fingers are met with blood, and a low gasp escapes my lips.
“Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head. “I hardly feel it.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Jake hovers at the door a moment before exiting the room.
Luke takes my hand and I let him. He wipes the blood off on his jeans, and then let’s go of me. “I didn’t do it on purpose, I’d never intentionally hurt someone I love.” He looks ashamed of whom he is and he has no reason to be. I think of everything he’s done for Ricky and me, of all the people he has helped in his job. He’s the bravest, most noble man I know.
I want to soothe his broken heart and lift his burdens, just like he’s done for me. “Your family wouldn’t want you to feel guilty over what happened. That one mistake already took their lives; don’t let it ruin yours as well.”
He wipes his raw, red eyes with the palms of his hands, silently shaking as he tries to contain even more tears from breaking free. Attempting to put himself back together. I lean forward and rest my hand on his, trying to reassure him, that I’m here for him, trying to give him the courage to say what he needs to say.
His gaze is unfocused as he looks down at my hand. He takes a shuddering breath to gain composure, and then whispers so low I almost don’t hear, “It could’ve been avoided. I remember it like it was yesterday and keep thinking what if I’d done things differently, what if I hadn’t been a selfish prick? Then maybe they’d still be here today.”
Moving closer, I wrap my arms around his trembling frame, as far as they will reach, needing to hold him as much as he needs to cling on to me. I lay my head on his shoulder and he tilts his face sideways, resting against me.
“I was doing a lot of drugs at the time. My father was an awful person. Not only did he scare the shit out of me, but he also made me feel like less of a man. I felt weak because I couldn’t stand up to him. I couldn’t protect my mum. He was far too strong for me to put up any kind of fight. The times I tried, it just made things worse. If I’d just kept my mouth shut, his beatings and his harsh words would end faster, he would get bored with us and walk away sooner.” He pauses, his tears freely falling down his face now and landing on mine. He doesn’t try to stop them any longer. My own eyes never stopped watering and our droplets mix together. We leak with the same pain, unable to hold it in any longer. We share the same troubled past.
His voice breaks and he sniffles, “I could’ve handled it better if it was just me he picked on, but watching him hurt my mum and being helpless to stop it, it fucking broke me.”
My heart stutters; to hear this from the point of view of a child, wrecks me. His mum wouldn’t have wanted him to feel as though it was his job to look after her. She would’ve wanted to shield him from all the horror. I know that’s how I felt with Ricky. I would’ve taken a thousand beatings, if it meant Ricky would’ve gotten none.
“You were just a child. It was your parent’s job to protect you, not the other way around. You weren’t weak. You were brave for making it through, for surviving everything you went through. As a mother myself, I know your mum would be proud of you. She would’ve felt as though she was failing you. She never would’ve thought you were letting her down, you have nothing to be ashamed about.”
He shakes his head struggling to believe my words. “I used to do a lot of drugs back then, drink a lot of alcohol, anything I could get my hands on. It was my escape. It numbed me. I couldn’t ever forget the abuse I had to deal with, but it helped to numb the pain. All the self-loathing I had for myself, it masked it, made me feel incredible for just a little while, instead of how fucking weak and pathetic I really was.”
Raising my head, I take his chin in my hand and force him to look at me. “You weren’t weak,” I insist.
He twists away from me. “I was definitely weak. I was so stoned that night, so fucking stoned. I couldn’t take what I’d seen, I couldn’t face it. I ran off like the wimp that I was, and did whatever I could to forget.”
My mind drifts to all the sleeping pills I used to take not so long ago. I can understand where he’s coming from. I needed them to stay sane, but didn’t want to lose myself so completely that I wasn’t in my right mind to be there for Ricky.
“One day after school, I walked through the door, and... oh God...” A sob breaks free, he swallows hard and tries again, “He wasn’t even supposed to be home, but he was. Mum was screaming through the gag in her mouth as he was forcing himself on her on the lounge room floor. She kept clawing at his face, I remember the blood from the scratches on his cheeks, and how he kept trying to slap her away.”
The lump in my throat swells as he speaks, and I rock us back and forth trying to dislodge the torment that feels all too real. His cold distant eyes match the dread inside of me.
“I attempted to get him off her, but he wouldn’t budge. He screamed at me, ‘hold the bitch down’. I just stood there and cried. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. He threatened if I didn’t hold her down that I’d be next. He laughed and told me I might like a good ass fucking since I was such a pansy boy that couldn’t even fight like a woman, let alone a man.”
It feels like my insides are being torn apart. How is he not in pieces, after what happened? He isn’t weak. Far from it. He’s tougher than anyone I know.
“I was so mad. All I could see was red. I was out of control,” he continues. “I got my baseball bat and beat him over the head with it until he keeled over.”
I don’t even know if he still recognizes my presence anymore, he’s so deep in his story. Regardless, I squeeze him tighter, trying to absorb some of his pain, trying to take it away.
“When I went near Mum to comfort her, she flinched. She was scared of me, ’cause I was a monster, just like him. I beat the crap out of him.”
“Luke,” I say firmly, trying to get his attention, but he’s lost in a dark place. I shake his shoulders, “Luke, you were nothing like him. You were trying to save your mum. You were courageous.” His unyielding demeanour breaks my fucking heart.
“Mum ran upstairs and locked herself in her room. I left Dad where he was. Didn’t even check if he was breathing. I hoped he wasn’t. When I went to see where my brother Trent was, he was passed out on his bed, a bag of pot beside him. He obviously heard and couldn’t handle it. Not that I blame him. I took his stash and went and got high, sat in my room for hours never letting the numbness subside. Every time the panic started to creep back in, it lit back up. If that wasn’t enough I drank straight from a bottle of rum. Later that night my hunger pains from all the weed got too much to take and I went downstairs in search of food. Through my haze, I noticed Dad was no longer on the floor. I was relieved that tomorrow would go back to normal and freaked out things would be the same all at once. I carried on like nothing had happened, ’cause events like this weren’t uncommon in my house.” He rubs his hands hard over his face, taking a moment to regroup.
The lump in my throat has tripled in size now and I squeeze it out through giant tears. They scorch a path of despair down my face.
“After I put the oil on the stove and realised there was no food, I went out to buy some. My buzz started to wear off and memories of that afternoon were coming back, so I went to find another high instead, a stronger one. I was out partying while my family burnt alive.”
“
Not your fault,” I cry; my voice barely coherent. He doesn’t seem to hear me.
“I always thought he was going to kill us, but in the end it was me who was responsible for killing them and I’ll regret it the rest of my life.”
Chapter Twenty Four
“We all walk in the dark and each of us must learn to turn on his or her own light.” - Earl Nightingale
Luke
After helping me remove the glass from my feet, Roxi had to leave for work, which is a good thing, because I need some time on my own after what I just divulged. My mind feels disconnected from my body. I’m in shock that I told her all of that, I can’t believe I did. I didn’t even go into that much detail with my therapist. I was petrified I was going to lose her and I completely panicked. The need to explain was greater than the shame I have always felt.
Sitting on her bedroom floor, I feel empty, but in a good way, like all the burdens that were weighing me down have lifted slightly. Traces will always remain, but after sharing them with someone else, someone who understands, they no longer suffocate me. I can breathe again.
Roxi’s presence still lingers in this space, and I don’t want to move yet. I can still feel the warmth of her embrace, and when I inhale, I can still smell her. It brings me comfort and I slowly drift back into the present, feeling less detached from the real world and what’s going on around me.
It’s strange not having her and Ricky around today. The house is so quiet that it’s actually loud. The silence screams at me. I miss them both while they’re gone and we haven’t even been apart a full day. What am I going to do when they move out? I don’t want them to go.
I must’ve been in here a while, lost in my own thoughts, because Jake comes in to check on me. Crouching down on the floor beside me he asks, “You okay man?”
I nod, still a little choked up. “I’m fine. She changes the way I feel about everything, and it scares the shit outta me, but I’m okay, more than okay. She makes me feel like a better man.”