I turn the key and edge the door open, listening for the TV, or the tell-tale sounds of him thumping around in a rage. I’m met with an eerie silence that confirms he’s not returned. I have minutes maybe? An hour if I’m lucky? I don’t plan to hang around and find out.
I close over the door quietly behind me, not clicking it shut properly in case Dad appears unexpectedly and I need to get out fast. Dashing to the kitchen, I grab the rubbish sacks. We don’t own suitcases. We never went anywhere interesting enough to need them.
I ignore Mum and Da…Eric’s room, partly because I’m being petty –why should I waste time fetching her things when she wouldn’t dream of fetching mine? —but mostly because I’m convinced he’s actually in there waiting for me. Instead, I zip into the kids’ room and toss all their clothes into the bin liner. On top of these, I throw any of their favourite toys that I can find. There aren’t many which is why I make a concerted effort to find them and secure them. Casey’s plushies and AJ’s truck. TJ’s plastic block men that he uses as if they’re his own personal army. When the bag is full to bursting, I tie a quick knot in the top and take it through to my room and start the process over with a new bag and my things. I have even less, which is probably for the best, as I’ll be hauling these to the bar by foot.
Almost done, and with burns stinging my palms from the chaotic way I’ve handled things, I tie up the bag with my clothes in it and stand it on the floor beside the other one. Just my money remaining.
On hands and knees, I reach under the mattress, my whole body extending beneath the weight toward the far wall where my envelope of savings is woven between the slats. It takes a bit of work to remove it with only one hand, but I get it. I pull back and let the mattress drop then turn to find a man hovering at my shoulder.
“Fuck!”
“Jules, it’s just me.” Dax raises his hands into the air, palms side out. He takes a couple of steps backward and keeps his unblinking eyes on my face. My heart pounds in my chest, hard enough to knock visibly.
“You can’t just…holy fuck…how did you even know where I…? No…you know what? Forget it. I can guess.” I stand up and tap the phone in my leg pocket and Dax nods contritely.
“We installed a tracker,” he confirms.
“Why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same thing! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be here right now?”
“This was my best chance to grab our things.”
“Don’t pretend that you ran out of the bar with a plan.”
“Look, I’m here now. This is what I’m doing and you’re right, this is stupid and dangerous and…”
Dax makes a dive toward me; I barely have time to flinch before one arm locks around my back and the hand of his other clamps over my mouth. He whispers a strained“sshhh,”into my ear. Listening to the house, I hear the unmistakable snick of the front door closing and voices flooding the living room.
Well, fuck. My time is up, and it sounds like Eric brought his new friends home with him. My bedroom is the closest to the living room, and the door is partly open. As a rule of thumb, if I can see out, they can see in, so we’re fucked if we stay here. I look around the room at our options as Dax releases me and edges nearer the door.
It’s either the closet or under the bed, and I somehow doubt we’ll get the two of us under the bed. I ease the closet door open, lifting it to avoid the squeaky hinge and whisper-hiss at Dax. He waves me over and pulls me into his side, moving just slightly so we can both see around the door.
“Have you ever seen him before?” he breathes into my ear.
As I stand there, anchored to the floor by the combined weight of my thoughts and my fears, a man backs up as he’s talking to Eric. His black suit is expensive but sits badly on his wide frame. The shiny bald patch on his crown and halo of dark curly hair reminds me of a bad clown wig. I’ve never seen him before, but I guess Eric could have been meeting anyone over the years while Mum and I were at work.
“You’d better get those kids to me,” I hear Eric demand, but there’s little to no fight in his tone.
“If you keep your end of the bargain. I will keep mine. I want that girl. You deliver her to me, and the boys are yours. Any suggestions as to what you’d like done with your wife and the youngest girl?” the stranger asks. His voice is slimy, his words ooze, and I shudder even to listen.
“Do what you like. They’re shit to me now. I just want my boys. They belong to me.”
Suddenly, being in this place feels like a bad idea. I need to vanish before Eric catches sight of me or the man turns around and sees me. I take a few steps back on the balls of my feet and reach once again for the closet door.
I hear a cruel chuckle and my dad’s loud,“that would serve the bitch right,”as the man, ormenif the cacophony of footfalls is any sign, head toward my room.
Dax launches himself across the room with two silent steps and sweeps us both into the closet. I pull the door closed with that awkward lifting motion that keeps it silent and hold my breath. Slatted louvre doors provide strips of a view. Dax’s chin rests on my shoulder as he holds me tight, his front to my back. I’ve no doubt he’s pressed up against the wall, and yet he pulls me back further as if to hide us both from the slashes of light.
The stranger pushes the bedroom door wide. He scans the room with furrowed brows, then relaxes when he finds it empty. His gaze trails over the twin bags, but he dismisses them quickly.
“This her room?”
“Both mutts shared it, but yeah,” Eric grunts, not bothering to hide his hatred of us.
“And you’re sure she didn’t spend any significant time in here.”
“She didn’t even go in there once, I don’t think. I made her fucking sleep outside,” he answers carefully.
