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It was over.
Dennis had found me, and he had ruined everything, just as he had done with my entire life so far. I had never thought I could hate someone so much, but I genuinely loathed him, and although I was crying like a child, I was furious. A part of me wished he had actually taken me back to Manchester. I would have gone quietly, taken the beating, and then, when he was asleep, stabbed him so many times you couldn’t see where one stab ended and the other began.
I wanted to kill him. I wanted this nightmare to be over. I wanted him out of my life, and preferably, buried so deep in the ground, there would be no way to dig him back out, even if someone wanted to.
Bobby tried to get me to talk several times, knocking on my door and calling my name before disappearing, only to dutifully return ten minutes later. By the fourth or fifth time, he gave up, and I could hear him close his bedroom door, and the sound of his bathroom shower coming on as he readied himself for bed.
I cried harder. I replayed the incident at the coffee shop in my head. Seeing Andy that way only made me cry harder. I was grateful for what he had done for me, loved him for it actually, but hated what he would have had to suffer in return. I had heard Bobby talking to him downstairs, and although I couldn’t make out all the words, I knew that Andy was alright. I felt better for it.
But I also knew Dennis had slipped away. That worried me more than the fear I had for Andy’s wellbeing.
You need to go to him.
But how? Bobby was keeping a close eye on me, and with Dennis out and about, how safe was I out on the streets alone? Would he be waiting outside for me to do something stupid? Was he anticipating how naïve I would be?
I shook, overwhelmed with a mix of feelings ranging from anger to fear. I was frustrated that I couldn’t do anything, that I was helpless and weak. I felt like I was back in Manchester, accepting the inevitable, coming to terms with the harsh reality that I would forever be a mouse in a maze, racing in circles and going nowhere.
How could I be so stupid? How did I think I could live a normal life?
I had the audacity to hope. And it came back to bite me in the ass.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to see Andy. I had to make sure he was okay, see it for myself, and not just be content with the scattered words of a phone call he made to Bobby.
You should have answered your phone when he called you.
But I hadn’t been able to. Ever since we had gotten home, I had been hiding in my room, laying in the same position, terrified to move. I was in no position to answer my phone. And besides, what was I going to say? I’m sorry my crazy husband took his frustration out on you?
Then go see him.
I had to. I needed to.
I tried to push myself up and realized that I couldn’t. I was so petrified, I had frozen myself in place. I closed my eyes, willed my muscles to move, but nothing happened. My body was fighting me, adamant on staying hidden behind the closed door where no one could hurt me.
Get up!
I tried again, and this time, I was able to curl out of my fetal position, my muscles screaming in protest and the joints in my limbs popping. Only then did I realize how tense I had been, how locked into place I had forced my body to be.
I groaned as I rolled my legs off the side of the bed and forced myself into a sitting position. My head was swimming, and I was exhausted from all the crying. I wiped my eyes, contemplated washing my face, then decided against it. I didn’t want Bobby hearing me move about. It might make him feel like I was ready to talk, and he’d come back. I wanted him to think I had fallen asleep. I needed him to fall asleep so I can get on with what I wanted to do.
I looked around my room, briefly taking note of where my keys and ID were, keeping my ears pierced for any movement in Bobby’s room. I heard his bed springs as he climbed into bed, then took out my phone and put it on airplane mode. I wanted to make a silent exit and didn’t want to risk any notifications giving me away. I looked at the time, and watched the numbers change until ten minutes had passed.
No sound came from Bobby’s room. I waited for another ten minutes, and when I could hear his distant snoring, I got up, slowly, making sure my own bed springs didn’t ruin the stealth I would require to leave. I tiptoed across my room, grabbed my keys and ID and pocketed them, and quietly turned my bedroom knob until the door swung open. It squeaked, and I quickly stopped it, opting to slide through the narrow opening and close it behind me again, making sure it stayed closed and didn’t swing open on its own when I left it.
I made my way downstairs, quietly, avoiding the parts of the stairs I knew would creak under my weight. When I was downstairs, I reached for the lights, and froze. No. No lights. I could make my way through the house in the dark. Deep down I knew it didn’t matter if the lights were on or not, but for some odd reason, I didn’t want to risk it.
I stealthily made my way to the end of the hall, pulled on my sneakers, and then backtracked to the garage door. My car was snuggled up in there, and I began to think of ways to get it out without making a racket while opening the garage door. Nothing came to mind, and I realized that the only solution was to act fast. Once the garage doors began to roll up, the machinery would definitely wake Bobby up. That is, if the growl of the car engine didn’t.
Screw it. You’ve come this far. By the time he realizes what’s going on, you’ll be halfway down the block.
I bit my lip, fiddled with the car keys, and decided to go for it. I opened the driver’s door, put the key in the ignition and turned. The engine purred like a cat, thankfully causing less noise than I had hoped. The garage doors were a different matter, though. The minute I clicked on the automatic opener, the cogs squealed in protest before turning slowly and bringing the doors up. I quickly got in the car, closed the door, and drummed my fingers against the steering wheel.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I whispered. I half expected the garage lights to come on and Bobby to rush up in front of the car, stopping me. When did I become so afraid of my own brother?
I began to think that I might be getting used to running away from places in the middle of the night.
As soon as the doors had risen enough for me to drive through, I shifted the car into drive and raced out, clicking the ‘closed’ button as I exited the driveway and turned right down the street. I briefly caught sight of a police cruiser parked outside the house on the other side of the street. Were they there for us?
I didn’t care. All I wanted now was to get to Andy. That’s all that mattered.
