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By the time I make it to London, I almost cry with relief when I see Jeanine standing with a hot coffee, waiting to drop me off at Nathan’s.
“What’s in the box?” She asks, patting the lid with her hand as she guides me out of the station and to her car.
“Just some things for Nathan,” I tell her and decide a change of subject would probably be safer. “Thanks for picking me up. I would have driven, but nobody had a car they could lend me.”
“And Nathan?”
“He’s in London signing off on a new contract. I really wanted to surprise him.” I lie, praying she doesn’t see straight through it.
“That sounds nice.” She grins, sharing my excitement, except my excitement is fake and hers is real.
We make small talk and catch up with each other as she drives. Even though the last thing I need right now is small talk, I’ve missed her, so it’s nice hearing from her.
When we finally make it to Nathan’s, she asks me if I need any help. Ten minutes later I manage to persuade her that it’s all good, with the promise that I’ll call her tomorrow.
I race up the stairs and straight into Nathan’s room. I’m relieved when I find the DVDs in the cubby hole in the closet. Gathering them in my arms, I carry them back down and place them on the dining table.
I pull the rest out of my bag, the DVD and the memory stick with the clip of Stephen talking to his father, not long after Nathan suffered his first taste of abuse. Just the memory of it sets my stomach tumbling.
How could a father not protect his son from that?
I wonder how Nathan would feel, knowing his father beat his mother to protect the grandfather who molested him. I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by not telling him that his father knew and the only reason he was sent to live with his grandfather was so nobody would find out. He beat Mrs Weston so she wouldn’t try to get Nathan back and it was all too easy when Caleb fell ill, because that became their new excuse for Nathan to be pushed away. And he protected their grandfather for money, because the business was failing.
Mr Weston effectively sold his son for money and beat his wife for the same thing.
That’s what it all comes down to.
Money.
They’re sick, all of them, and I hope they all rot in hell.
But it’s over now. Nathan has the family businesses and I know he’ll turn them around, I just know it. He deserves this. Even though it’s not much and he deserves so much more, at least it’s a start and at least his father will be out of his life forever.
It’s sad.
It’s tragic.
Once it’s all on the dining table, I grab the box that Nathan had Sasha deliver to me and, with a bottle of water tucked under my arm, I head up the stairs and into his room.
I said to myself I was going to leave it behind, but… I can’t. Whatever is in here has my curiosity and, even though it won’t change anything, I need to see what it is.
Placing the box on the bed, I place the pillows up the headboard and lean back against them. As soon as I’m comfortable, I flip the box open and blink when I see what the contents are.
Journals… four of them, including the one I bought for him during my stay here.
I can’t read these. They’re his private thoughts.
I lay them on the bed, side by side. Each one has a sticky note on the front with Nathan’s handwriting on them.
My hands grasp the one that says:
Read this one first.
I do, and the instant I do I become enthralled. This isn’t like a teenage girl’s diary where she starts it with a name. Mostly there are dates, times, events, random thoughts. There are paragraphs where he writes down something that happened during the day that made him feel angry.
I realise that this is probably what a professional told him to do to work out his frustrations.
I skim read the first fifty pages or so, but I stop skimming when I see the words…
I can’t do this anymore. The dreams, the nightmares, the pain… it won’t leave. I can’t let go. I have nothing.
How dare he ask for my forgiveness? After everything he did to me. After everything they did to me!
Tomorrow is the day, I want to say goodbye to Caleb and that’s it.
There’s nothing holding me back anymore, there’s nothing holding me here. It’s better this way.
My hand flies to my mouth.
He was going to kill himself. I turn the page and keep reading.
I’ve thought of ways I can do this quickly, painlessly. But I don’t want it to be quick and painless. I want them to know that I suffered, in life and before death.
