What could I possibly say to that to make it better? My heart bled for a small child cowering in the corner, afraid of the two people that were supposed to protect her.
She gulped and I could tell she was struggling to keep it together. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. My head is fried and there’s so much to sort out. I don’t even know how to start to accept that she’s gone and I won’t see her again. I should be crying right now but I’m not. Why am I not? And what do you think will happen to my dad?”
“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. You’ve had a huge shock, Nell, so don’t you dare start judging yourself for how you’re coping, you’re doing amazing. I’m not sure about your dad but if you want I can try to speak with the officers dealing with his case?”
“Okay… Thank you. He’s going to prison, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know all the details but I think it’s safe to assume he will spend some time in prison, yes.”
Her eyes welled up again. “Yeah. He should. I think he should. Or I think I think he should. Does that make sense?”
I nodded and replied, “It does.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed she meant it. It sounded like their fights were pretty even, neither was more in the wrong than the other, he’d pushed her and she fell down the stairs. They were as bad as each other, no question, and the fact that her mum died in a mutual fight might meant her dad had a chance at getting off or at least getting a lesser sentence. But the justice system was flawed and inconsistent so really anything could happen.
“Things got better when I was old enough to go out alone,” she said, drawing me back into her childhood. “I spent almost all of my time at Chloe’s. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it wasn’t for her. I was barely hanging in there for years.”
“Did you want to tell her what was going on?”
“I nearly did.”
“What stopped you?”
“I was scared of what she would think, what everyone else would think when they knew. I was scared that my parents would get into trouble and scared that people would think there was something wrong with me because of them. And I was scared that they’d take me away. They were crap parents but they were still my parents. I didn’t want to go into care and be moved from foster home to foster home. So I stuck it out, kept it a secret, and counted down the days until I left for Uni.”
Everything made sense, the way she was, the way she turned arctic when the word relationship was uttered. Reaching over I took her hand and her shoulders lost some of the tension. I loved that one simple touch from me could do that for her. “Nell, what’s your biggest fear?”
“After one of my parents murdering the other, you mean? That would be turning into them. All I know is how to argue and fight. I have no idea what it takes to make a relationship work and that terrifies me. I won’t become them.”
“I know you won’t. For starters you know what it’s like, so you’d never want someone else, your own children, to go through the same thing.”
“But that’s not a guarantee. How many people repeat the same mistakes of previous generations? My dad’s parents were abusive to each other and my parents repeated that. I bet they said they wouldn’t too. They probably spoke about it and said they’d never do anything to hurt each other. Fast forward seven years… I’m petrified that I’ll fall into the same pattern.”
“You won’t.” Her jaw twitched and eyes narrowed. “I won’t let you.”
“Damon…”
“Nell…”
She dropped her eyes. “You know…”
“Yeah, I know the score, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Promise.” Her eyes widened, pleading with me.
The promise she wanted wasn’t just getting over her mum’s death. It was so much more. I knew why she didn’t want anything real, and I knew that I’d smash down every brick in the protective wall she’d built around herself. She was beginning to allow me to. We were going to be together soon – whether she fucking liked it or not.
Nell
I woke up at five in the morning feeling like my skin was alive and crawling with millions of bugs. It itched in the worst possible way.
My worst nightmare, the thing that kept me up at night, had been made real. Mum was dead and Dad was responsible. It was always going to happen.
I got out of bed quietly so I wouldn’t wake Damon and went into the bathroom. He’d convinced me to stay the night again, not that it took much convincing, and I now regretted it.
This was how it was going to end and I’d told them a thousand times. Each and every time they’d told me I was overreacting and things weren’t that bad. Well, the only times they’d actually dignified me with a reply and not just ignored me that is. Fuck sake! I scratched my upper arm and paced beside the bath.