Chapter One

  We were all woken that night by the deafening bellows of thunder above our roof. Tabitha cried in scared, jittery sobs. At just seven years old, my poor Tabitha was still frightened of a lot of things, let alone monstrous bangs that shook the house on its foundations. Michael, of course, got angry with us both. Angry at Tabby for being terrified and angry with me for trying to calm her down, even if my efforts were feeble. Being woken at four in the morning was bound to set off his temper.

  “Eleanor, take her to bed and just go the fuck to sleep. Both of you! I got work in two hours, for fuck sake,” Michael growled and pulled the blanket over his head and rolled over with an annoyed huff.

  “Sorry,” Sniff, “Daddy.”

  “Don't worry, baby. Come on,” I use my most calm and reassuring voice to coax her out of our bedroom and into the living room where we both settled onto the corner sofa. Her small body cradled into me for safety as the rumbles broke the sky outside. The television distracted Tabby just long enough to settle her into another sleep before the morning sun broke through the curtains.

  It was useless to argue against Michael when he got like this. I learnt the hard way many times not to argue with him. His moods changed as quickly as the weather itself. Being with him, I lost my small circle of friends. The contact we had with one another got less and less to the point of now, three years down the line, they don’t even recognise me anymore. But on the upper hand, Michael did have a passionate, loving side; it came out more often than his anger did.

  Tabitha stirred beside me as the rising sun peeked through the tar-stained curtains, forcing light into the dull room. She woke just before Michael plodded in, fastening the tie around his neck.

  “Good-morning, my beautiful Angels.” Michael stroked the side of Tabitha’s rosy cheeks and kissed the top of my head before he ambled into the kitchen just opposite the living-room. I could see him from where I was sat.

  “Are you still able to pick up Tabby from school this afternoon?” I asked as he pushed two pieced of bread into the toaster and flicked the kettle on to make us our usual morning coffee.

  “Of course, my sweet. Another long day today?” He spoke calmly and happily as if last night was just a nightmare.

  “Yeah. I don’t finish until nine tonight.”

  “Ok, Nelly. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Michael handed me my coffee, his toast hanging from his mouth. A quick ruffle of Tabitha’s hair and a swoop for his car keys and he was gone.

 Tabby rubbed her eyes and grumbled. My poor baby had bags under her big, beautiful eyes. And, as I gazed into those tranquil brown eyes, I knew deep down I’d do anything to keep her safe.

  “Mummy?” She mumbled. A yawn stifled in her throat as she buried her face into my bust.

  “Yes, beautiful?” I smiled down at her. This moment, as any mother would tell you, seemed so precious to me.

  “Can we have coco pops for breakfast?” Tabby straightened up and investigated the kitchen. “Please?”

  “Hmm, I’ll see what I can do.” My smile faltered when I watched her expression change. Her fair eyebrows furrowed, and her shoulders hunched anxiously.

  “Mummy?”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Yes, beautiful?”

  “Why does Michael get angry sometimes?”

  “Well,” I start while I stood to straighten up from the few hours I’ve been on the sofa. “Everyone gets angry sometimes, I guess. But Michael has an imbalance in the brain. It may seem like he’s always angry, but it’s not his fault. Now, come on. Let’s get us some breakfast, yeah?”

  Of course, most children are bribed with food. Tabitha was no exception. She followed me, even ran ahead when in the kitchen, making little hops and skips like an impatient puppy. Her thick brown hair bobbed and bounced behind her. It resembled that of a thorny bird’s nest atop her head. Try combing thick curls on the head of a scared child, I can assure you, as simple as it sounds, It’s a god damn nightmare. Tabitha winced at even the smallest twinge of hair being pulled, causing her to lurch away screaming, not wanting to have to endure any more pain. I’ve tried everything over the years, but nothing has deemed successful yet.

  “Well, would you look at that.” I pulled off the box of coco pops from the cupboard and watched her jump with excitement. To feel young again. find simple happiness in something as small as a box of cereal.

  “Coco Pops!” Tabby grinned and clung to my hips. “Thank you, Mummy.”

  “Not a problem. Now, let’s quickly eat up, we don’t want to be late for school again, do we?”

  “No Mummy,” Tabby replied in a small voice and dug her toe into the kitchen floor.

   I felt exhausted. Both mentally and physically. Life was sucking the energy from my veins, every day felt worse and worse. There’s not a lot you can do when you feel yourself sinking into a black hole. Not much was keeping me here. Just Tabby. There’s a lot Michael doesn’t know, and I intend to keep it that way.

  The trip to Tabby’s school was excruciating. The traffic had piled up for hundreds of yards, thanks to traffic lights to repair a roundabout malfunction. Of course, by the time we arrived, we were ten minutes late which was immediately noticed by the head teacher.

  “Do you have a minute, Mrs Lynch?” The head teacher asked in a firm voice which made it sound more like a demand than a request. I always thought she resembled an Ostrich with her long thin neck, wiry-looking scalp and a large bottom which was stuck on thin stilt-like legs.

  “Of course.” I try to offer a smile, but I feel it came out as a wince. The head teacher’s expression was unchanged like she had been carved out of a rock. Tabby and I followed her into her office, knowing full well what we had in store.  Tabby’s tired eyes had already threatened tears. The most I could do to comfort her was a brush of my thumb across the back of her small hand that had been clinging to mine since we had stepped foot onto the school grounds.

  “Mrs Lynch, we are worried about Tabitha.” The headteacher closed the door behind us, enclosing us uncomfortably into the compact room. “Not only does she arrive late most mornings, but her grades are a little lower than we expect for her age. She doesn’t even appear to play with other children.” Mrs Ostrich face looked to me like it was all my fault. Her piercing little eyes bore down at me like I was a piece of shit on her shoe.

  “I apologise for the late arrivals, I will try and improve on-time keeping from now on. As for the grades, I’m pretty sure those are down to the teachers. Not me.” I felt a buzz of frustration. “Tabitha isn’t a ‘playing’ type of child. She would much rather sit and draw. If that’s such an issue, I’ll be changing schools.” I sounded far more confident than I felt, but the frustration fuelled me forward. When the look of horror and disgust washed over Mrs Ostrich, I pulled open the door and flashed a smile in her direction as we left.

  “Have a good day, Tabitha. Daddy will pick you up later, ok?” I ruffled her hair gently when she followed me out to the safety of the hallway.

  “Michael isn’t my Daddy.”

  “No, you’re absolutely right. Sorry, beautiful. See you later, Ok?” I walked her to her class, trying my hardest to ignore the sickness swirling in my stomach. My head had clouded over by the time I had got back into my car. Memories I wished I could forget flooded over me. 

For a few minutes, I sat dormant, hyperventilating in my car. Things just seemed to go from bad to worse. There in my car, heart racing furiously to match my overthinking head, I caught a glimpse of black in my rear-view mirror. I wouldn’t usually think much of it, but all that was behind me was the graffiti-stained wall of a block of run-down flats that hadn’t been in use for years. I focused harder. A man in black stood stiffly with his back against the wall. Nothing unusual, really. I probably overreacted thanks to the stress prior, but I felt as if he was watching me; even though I couldn’t see his eyes. He pulled his hand up to smoke a cigarette and walked away without any unusual behaviour. Still, I couldn’t knock the feeling of unease as I turned the key and started the engine. The quicker I got to work, the better. Or so I thought. Of course, work was no better.