Figure 8 (18 page)

I walk away. Will it be forever? I don’t know what the future holds; all I know is that my baby is going to be loved, by at least one parent.

Damon

I bend down and pick up the envelope. I haven’t opened my door or left the apartment now for over two weeks. I can’t face the world. I can’t face Isabelle knowing what I have done to her. I should have left her alone. I should have stayed away from her. Instead, I have broken her beyond repair.

I throw the letter on the table but something catches my eye. I turn it over.

The word
‘Damon’
is written on the front of it, I would recognise that handwriting anywhere.

Isabelle.

My heart beats again for the first time in weeks. I gently lift the flap to open it. I take out the note and read it, my heart racing with every word.

Damon,

I don’t know what to write. I have written this note at least twenty times, and each time I have screwed it up and chucked it in the bin. I still don’t know if I am doing the right thing by sending this. You are reading it because I tried to knock with no success, whether through fear or because you weren’t home.

Anyway, you have a right to know what I am about to tell you, so that is why you are reading this.

I am pregnant.

Inside the letter is a picture of our baby.

I don’t want anything from you. I give you your freedom to walk away. I won’t come after you, I won’t chase you for money, I will even lie to our child and tell her or him that I don’t know whom you are, if that is what you choose.

I am also giving you a chance, a chance to be a part of his or her life. I won’t keep you away if that is what you choose, I won’t stop you. I don’t know how it would work yet, I can’t think past our child and I at the moment. But who knows what the future may bring.

I know this will be a massive shock. So I give you time. You decide.

Isabelle.

I pull out the picture and look at my baby, our baby, Isabelle’s baby and mine. A tear stains my face. I have ruined everything. My father and my brother have destroyed not only Isabelle’s life but they have destroyed my life. I punch the wall hard, the plaster crumbling under the force. I survey the damage to my hand before walking over to the tap and rinsing off the blood. I grab my keys off the worktop, taking hold of the letter in my hand. I grip it tightly, heading out of the door I slam it hard behind me.

THEY WILL NOT RUIN MY CHILD’S LIFE.

Isabelle

I walk slowly home, after making the decision not to take a taxi. I need the fresh air, I need to think about things. I have spent the last few weeks going out of my mind not knowing what to do. I have cried more tears over Damon than I have ever cried in my life. I love him. It is that simple.

Is love simple or is it the hardest thing in the world?

However, I don’t know if I can forget about him lying to me. I want to try and forgive him though. I want him to be a part of his child’s life. Dad has been talking to him, relaying messages back to me but I didn’t want to hear in those first few weeks. I was so angry, so hurt by everything that happened, so emotional and lost.

The dreams have been coming thick and fast, they have been getting worse. I wake in a cold sweat nightly and I am just so physically and mentally exhausted. The last one, I was still on the number 8 but someone was trying to help me to get down, there was a ladder, but every time I tried to climb it the rungs would break and I would free-fall until I woke up. I still don’t understand what they mean or if they mean anything and I still don’t know what Damon’s brother knows about them. He must know something if it was him that left the flowers on the bed. I wonder if he had been bugging Damon’s office and that’s how he got all of this information about my dreams and me. I wonder a lot of things; most of them make no sense.

I don’t know how long I have been walking for before I realise that I am going in the complete opposite direction of my apartment. I spot a baby store across the street. I head over and go inside, absently putting a hand across my stomach. Running my hand along the tops of all the beautifully designed cots, a tear stains my cheek.

“Can I help you?” a petite blonde woman asks.

“I’m fine thanks, just browsing,” I say, wiping away the treacherous salty water.

I make my way out of the store. Why am I torturing myself like this?

When I arrive home I flick the kettle on and plonk myself on the sofa. I am surprised that there isn’t a nice little indentation in it from where my backside has taken up residence over the last few weeks. I pick up my phone from off of the coffee table and sigh when there are no missed calls or texts. I am not sure what I was expecting; I don’t even know where he is or if he even goes back to the apartment anymore. Hell, I don’t even know if he is still in the country. The office hasn’t been open for a few weeks. I know because I have been watching, waiting, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The sadistic part of me wants to know that he feels as bad as I do. I want to know if it was all just an act, if he does feel bad or if he just doesn’t give a damn. My brain just won’t shut off for one minute. I spend the days and the nights going over every second of our relationship, trying to figure out if there was some kind of tell that I missed. I always come up blank. The morning sickness has finally subsided and I don’t feel as bad as I did, but I am just so damn tired all the time. I close my eyes and wait, I don’t know what I am waiting for anymore but if it doesn’t come soon I will have to accept the fact that I am going to be doing this alone.

The room is dark.

I know the drill now, I don’t even scream anymore.

I don’t even try to get down.

I just sit.

Sit and wait.

Time is my friend.

I hear the clunking of the ladder.

I wait.

Nothing comes.

I stand up, anticipation getting the better of me.

I peer over the ledge.

A figure stands at the bottom looking up at me.

I can’t make out a face.

“Come to me Isabelle, you’re safe with me.”

I gasp.

“Damon?”

Is it him?

Has he come to save me?

Or has he been the menacing shadow all along?

I hear him climb the steps.

He reaches the top and holds out his hand.

I hesitate.

“Please Isabelle, I promise to protect you, I promise to keep you and our baby safe.”

I reach out and grab his hand.

I wake when I hear a tapping on the door. I rub my tired eyes and stretch on a yawn. I unravel my aching limbs from off the sofa and slowly head to see who has disturbed my nightmare. The knocking gets louder.

“Hang on a minute,” I snap. Some people have no patience. I knock the chain off the latch and open the door carefully. I am greeted with familiar smiling eyes.

“Can I help you?” I ask cautiously.

“Yes, I need to speak to you,” the American voice says, sending a shiver down my spine. My flesh crawls with unwelcome goosebumps. I try to close the door but he puts a foot in the way to stop me. I back away, instinctively covering my stomach with my hands, he doesn’t notice.

“Wh..What do you want?” my voice breaks but I try to remain calm.

“I just want to talk to you.”

“Haven’t you done enough damage? What could you possibly have to say to me that I want to hear?” I feel my anger bubbling but I don’t know if I should be angry or scared.

“I won’t hurt you, just let me talk and then I will leave.”

“What choice do I have?” He smirks and steps into the flat. I back away from him, trying to put as much distance as I can between us.

“Take a seat.” He points to the sofa.

“I think I will stand,” my strong voice startles me. I am anything but calm. However, I don’t want him to see how intimidated I am. I watch him as he moves across the room, positioning himself on the arm of the sofa. He is wearing faded black jeans, a light brown t-shirt and a black leather jacket, his hair is long, and a light brown beard covers his face. I notice a tattoo just behind his ear as he moves his head to look around the room. It’s a number 8 with flames coming off of it. I gasp, but try not to show my reaction.

“I have a story to tell you,” he drawls, the look on his face is mocking me.

“I don’t think I want to hear anything you say.” I remain strong. I fold my arms across my chest and stand tall. “I would like you to leave.” My heart is pounding so heavy in my chest.

“Just let me have my say.” Curiosity gets the better of me and I ask.

“What does the tattoo represent?” I tilt my head towards his neck. He reaches up and strokes it, a wicked gleam appears in his eyes. Damon has those same eyes. The same blue eyes, but not the same kindness. These eyes are pure evil.

“Hell’s Eights,” he states. “The name of our motorcycle gang.” He turns and reveals the patch on the back of his jacket. I vaguely remember hearing those words as my mind floods with memories of my childhood. The number 8 in my dreams, it was all because of my mother’s death. Why didn’t I connect the dots earlier?

“You left the roses to let us know it was you. It was nothing to do with my dreams was it?” he looks confused.

“What dreams girlie?” I realise my slip and try to change the subject quickly.

“You wanted to say something? Go ahead and say it, then leave.” I nod towards the door. He stands and moves towards me, I instinctively move backwards.

“You’re a pretty little thing. I can see why Damo has taken a shine to you.” I flinch at his nickname for his brother.

“Get out,” I scream

“Feisty too. I like it.” He grins, and I want to throw up. “Your little boyfriend paid me a visit the other week, told me to leave town or he would report me to the police for harassment. Can’t have that now, can we? I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m heading back to the states tomorrow.” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“So why are you here?”

“Well I couldn’t just leave without seeing what all the fuss was about. Why my brother refuses to have anything to do with our father and me. You see, I came here for him, to bring him home, back into the family fold. But he wants to stay with you,” he spits the last word as I feel his body press against me.

“Dad won’t be happy that he chose a whore over his family, but I guess that’s his decision.” I flinch at his words, the tears staining my face. He reaches up and brushes my cardigan away from my arm. He strokes the scar on my shoulder. “At least you have something to remember me by. Just like your mommy. You know she screamed and begged for her life that night. She promised to do anything, she even sucked my dick before Dad put the bullet in her chest.” I throw the contents of my stomach up all over myself at his words. My hands are shaking and I am petrified as to what will come next.

He pulls the cardigan off of my other arm and lets it fall to the floor. I back away until I hit the wall. I am trapped with nowhere to go. Images flash through my mind, my mother pushing me on the rope swing in our garden, my father kissing my forehead goodnight, holding me closely whilst we both cried a few short weeks ago. Jenny and me eating ice cream and crying at soppy chick flicks, and then Damon, Damon making love to me softly, creating our baby, I want him to hold me tightly and protect me like I know he would. I stand petrified as the vile man licks straight up the side of my face, I can’t move from the shock. He rips my shirt and the buttons fly off, scattering all over the floor.

“Please don’t do this, you don’t have to do this.” I don’t even recognise my own voice anymore. That strong confident person that was here moments ago has vanished. I hear a loud bang and then the force of David’s body leaves mine. I watch as Damon punches him and he falls to the floor smashing his head on the coffee table. I sink to the floor my back leaning against the wall, supporting me. The fountain of tears filling my eyes, rush like tidal waves out of my heaving body.

I don’t know what happens next. It feels like hours go by as I sit on the floor with my hands covering my head, trying to block out everything that’s just happened. When I feel an arm come around me I flinch.

“It’s okay Izzy, it’s me.” I hear his voice and I break further. My body crumbles and I slump into his warm sturdy arms. “Shush baby, you’re safe now. He’s gone. He won’t ever hurt you again, I promise.” His hand strokes my back and I curl into the foetal position on his lap. He strokes my hair as I cry. I think about all the things David said, the things about my mother’s death. Dad always told me that she died quickly and she didn’t know it was coming. Obviously that was a lie to protect me from the truth. I imagine my poor mother; all she wanted was gas for her car and she ended up alone, frightened, scared and begging for her life. I wretch, as the thoughts of what that man did to her enter my mind once again. I hear a noise and then shouting as police enter the room, followed quickly by Jenny.

“Oh my god Izzy, what happened? Are you okay?” She runs over to me quickly and flings her arms around my neck. I watch as she daggers Damon with her eyes. I don’t say a word; I think I am in shock. I just sit curled up in Damon’s lap staring as the police drag a semi-conscious David away. I hear a voice and a woman appears in my peripheral vision.

“Can we check her over?” she says

She’s pregnant,” Damon replies, placing a hand over my stomach. I look at Jenny, she looks angry, knowing I lied to her about where I was going. My hand automatically covers his and he looks at me, I turn and stare into his beautiful blue eyes. The tears have stopped and I feel numb again. I feel the paramedic lift me up and place me into a chair. I pull my torn shirt around myself and they wrap a blanket around me and strap me onto the gurney. I remain silent as they load me into the waiting ambulance. Damon never lets go of my hand and I keep my grip tightly on his. As we arrive at the hospital, all I can think is that I am sick to death of seeing this place. I don’t ever want to see it again.

“Isabelle, hi I’m Belinda. We met a few months ago when you were in here,” the nice blonde nurse says, as we enter the A&E, reminding me once again of how many times I’ve seen this hospital, the nurses even know me by name. I watch as she turns to Damon and then frowns. They wheel me into a room and then she leaves to go get a sonographer.

“I am so sorry for everything Isabelle. I never meant for any of this to happen,” he says when we are alone. Before I get chance to reply Jenny comes barrelling into the room like a hurricane.

“You can leave now,” she says to him.

“It’s okay Jen, I want him here. He has a right to check that his baby is safe.” I remove my hand from his grip and sit myself up in the bed. My head is pounding and I lean back on the pillow to close my eyes, I am too exhausted to hear them arguing over me, right now.

The doctor gives me the all clear. Damon wraps his jacket around me and we head out of the glass sliding doors into the cool air. Damon still has his hand gripped tightly in mine but I don’t know how I feel about it. I watched his eyes light up when he saw our little bean on the screen and again as a tear slid down his cheek at the sound of the train racing through my stomach. My mind is still trying to process everything and as I squeeze his hand I wonder.

Can I forgive him?

He saved your life Izzy, of course you can!

But I wouldn’t have been in danger to save, if it wasn’t for him. I understand that he was only a child himself when they killed mom and I can’t blame him for that. However he still brought that man to my door.

We arrive back at the flat and Jenny rushes around making sure that the place is cleaned up. There’s glass shattered everywhere and some speckles of blood on the rug. I look at my cardigan lying on the floor, I bend to pick it up, anger builds and I try to tear it to shreds. When that doesn’t work I grab the scissors out of the draw in the kitchen and start cutting it up into pieces.

“What are you doing Iz?” Jen stops me.

“Get rid of it,” I scream and shove it at her, dropping the scissors to the floor.

“Okay sweetie, it’s gone.” I watch as she walks away and shoves it into a bin bag. I sit down on the sofa as far away from the spot that David sat as I can get.

“Can I get you anything?” Damon asks. I look up at him blankly.

“Why are you still here?” My tone is harsh and I instinctively regret it.

“I am here because I love you, Izzy. I’ve never stopped loving you. You can push me away as much as you want but I am not going anywhere. I am going to fight for us. That man has fucked up not just your life, but he has fucked up my life too and I am damn well sure I’m never going to let him fuck up our baby’s life.” His eyes are full of anger but a tear leaves his lid and drops down his cheek. I reach up and brush it away. I take his cheeks in my hands and search his eyes. I know he means it when he says he loves me. I love him too. His love has left me breathless for so long, I don’t know if I will breathe again without him.

“Take me home, Damon. Take me out of this flat, I can’t stay here.” My skin crawls remembering everything that has happened here and I just want to get out.

“I’m sorry Jen, I need to leave,” I tell her as I put my coat and shoes on. She pulls me in for a warm hug and kisses my cheek.

“I love you, Izzy. I will always be here for you. You’re my best friend, if you need me just call me, anytime.” She pats my stomach. “And I want updates on the little peanut daily.” She smiles and then turns to Damon “Fuck her over again and I will torture you slowly.” I smile at my over-protective crazy best friend. I look at Damon, who looks scared shitless, he gulps and nods at her.

“I love you, Jen,” I shout on my way out, taking Damon’s hand and dragging him out of the door.

We drive home in silence. Damon only lets go of my hand to change gears. He helps me out of the Range Rover and lifts me into his arms. I let him carry me into the building, my face tucked into the crook of his neck. He lays me down on the sofa and pulls the throw cover over me. He goes to walk away and I grab his hand.

“We need to talk.” He nods

“I want to feed you and our baby first. You haven’t eaten all day.” I smile and remove the throw, then stand up. “Where are you going?”

“I need a shower. I’ll be fine, you make me food then we can talk.” I head off in the direction of the bedroom. I take my clothes off and throw them into a corner by the closet. I will throw them away tomorrow. I go into the bathroom and turn on the water.

As soon as it heats up, I step inside and let the tiny rivulets of water drop against my skin. I turn the heat up as high as I can stand it, trying to burn his touch off me. Those words bouncing around in my brain:

‘You know she screamed and begged for her life that night. She promised to do anything, she even sucked my dick before Dad put the bullet in her chest.’

I don’t know if he was lying, Dad had told me that it was an accident; he said that Ray had apologised. Would Dad lie to me or was Ray lying? I try not to think about it. I want to try and put this all behind me and forget it ever happened. I want to think about my future, my baby’s future.

Can I forget?

Can I forgive?

I scrub my body harsher than I had planned and my shoulders are red raw when I have finished. I turn the water off and step out wrapping myself in a hot towel. I brush the tangles out of my hair and scrub my teeth. I head into the bedroom and dig out my Disney flannelette pyjamas. I need comfort right now and I couldn’t care less if I look unsexy. I pause in the doorway, watching Damon move around the kitchen. He looks so tense and sad. I love him so much and I want to make this work with him, but we have so much to talk about. I sit at the breakfast bar and Damon places a bowl of pasta and mascarpone sauce in front of me.

“Do you feel better?” he asks nervously. I hate that he feels uncomfortable around me now. I smile at him to try and ease the situation.

“Yes, thank you. I feel much better. Thanks for cooking this, it smells delicious.” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I want to just take him in my arms and make everything that has happened go away. But I know that there is no papering over the cracks with this. He sits down next to me and starts to eat his food.

“Isabelle, I am so sorry” he says, in-between mouthfuls. “I am so sorry for everything my family has put you through and I am so, so, very sorry for lying to you. I shouldn’t have lied, I should have been honest from the start but I was scared.” I put my hand over his mouth.

“Please don’t. Let’s just eat and then we can talk.” He nods and picks his fork back up. I take a mouthful of pasta, it is delicious and I moan in between every appetising bite.

“Please don’t make those noises.” His eyes go dark, he looks at me and the intensity is palpable. I close the distance between us. Damon lays his forehead against mine. “I love you, Izzy.”

“I love you too, Damon.” He lets out a large breath.

“Please tell me we can make this work.” I nod my head.

“We can try.” He leans in and I melt into his embrace. I have missed his touch so much; I need the connection between us like I need air. I try to increase the passion in my kiss but he pulls away.

“Let’s talk first. I want to start again. No more secrets. We lay everything out on the table right now, right here and we don’t look back.”