Authors: Samantha Hayes
Now I wonder if she is right. If so, then this is just the beginning for me.
I rest my forehead against the bathroom mirror. That chat with Karen seems a lifetime ago now, although ironically I’m still carrying the legacy of everything I’ve done. Bound up inside me like a secret waiting to explode.
The knock at the door makes me jump. When I answer it nervously, still wearing my pyjamas, Tom is standing there. He has anger and hurt pasted across his face as he pushes straight past me.
‘I need answers, Hannah.’ He turns, hands on hips. ‘There’s stuff you’re not telling me.’
I go to the window, peering down to see if Mum has brought the car round yet. I was expecting her back by now, hurrying me along with the packing. I don’t care if we just drive off, leaving all our stuff behind.
‘I don’t like this any more than you do,’ I say, hoping to stall him. Karen and her karma are on my mind again. ‘I don’t know what kind of sick, crazy prank has had me end up in your mum’s hotel, but take it from me that I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known.’
Tom’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. After everything we’ve been through together, he doesn’t deserve that.
‘Tell me why you broke up with me, Hannah.’ His voice is deep and imploring, reminding me of the way he’d whisper nice things to me as we lay in bed. Once it was a poem he’d made up, sometimes song lyrics he liked.
I turn away.
‘I love you,’ he says.
‘No,’ I tell him back. ‘You can’t. I don’t want your love, and I don’t love you.’
I can almost hear the crack in his heart. It’s nearly as loud as the one in mine.
‘My dad called me this morning,’ he says, not hearing what I’m saying.
I swing round angrily. ‘What, your dad who’s not actually in Seattle?’
‘What are you talking about, Han? Of course my dad’s in Seattle. What the hell’s happened to you?’ He comes up to me, taking me by the shoulders, but I shrug away from him, backing off towards the door. Cooper is lying in his bed, idly watching the goings-on.
‘Nothing’s
happened
to me, Tom.’ I need to stay calm. ‘I . . . I just can’t do
us
any more. Why won’t you accept it’s over?’
I go to the door, place my hand on the knob. I stop and turn, taking a deep breath.
‘And Tom, your dad
isn’t
in Seattle.’
‘What are you talking about?’ He begs me with his eyes.
‘He video-called you back when you went to get me water. I answered it, Tom.’
He frowns, but keeps silent.
‘Your dad was just a silhouette, and his voice was all crackly and breaking up.’
‘So?’ he says indignantly.
‘Don’t you get it? I couldn’t see him because he was backlit by sunshine. It was broad daylight outside, not night-time like it should have been in Seattle.’
‘You’re mistaken,’ he says.
There’s nothing I can say to convince him, not when I don’t understand it myself. I bow my head before opening the door and hurrying along the corridor, barefooted and still wearing my pyjamas. I have to get away from him.
Tom calls after me, begging me to wait. As I fly down the stairs, rushing past startled guests, I pray Mum will be waiting in the car outside. But there’s no sign of her as I stand on the top step of the hotel. I scan left then right towards the car park, which is too full to make out the exact space where we left the car. Mum is nowhere to be seen.
Before I know it, Tom will be down here, questioning me, grilling me about what I know, pushing me for answers, and I don’t trust myself not to blurt it all out. I need to get home, back to my bedroom to be alone, to figure out what to do. Meantime, I’ll just have to wait for Mum where I won’t be spotted. She said she wouldn’t be long.
I run down the steps, stopping on the last one, and I swear I hear someone call out my name. Has Tom caught up with me already?
I hurry on, picking my way across the gravel, the tiny
stones stinging my feet. I run round the side of the building, but suddenly stop, freezing dead still. Then I spin round.
‘Who’s there?’
A crow flaps out of a tree, its wings clapping together, its screech a painful reminder of everything crammed inside my head.
I swear I heard a noise – a grunt, as if someone was coming after me.
‘Tom, is that you?’
I can’t see anyone, but there are too many places where someone could be hiding – amongst the neatly clipped bushes, tucked round the corner of the gingery stone, concealed in the cover of the nearby thicket or hidden behind one of several oak trees.
I run on, trying to stay calm. It’s cold and my feet are wet as I dash across the dewy grass. Glancing back, I wish there was a way to erase the dark trail I’ve left in the silvery green. A trail leading to the rest of my life.
When I reach the back of the hotel, I stop, breathless, getting my bearings. I’m tempted to carry on right round the entire building, ending up in the car park – where I should have headed in the first place. Then I consider going back inside, apologising to Tom.
But a sudden scream erupts up my throat, coming out as a weak croak, making every muscle in my body clench in fear.
How is this happening? Why is he doing this?
He’s coming after me, striding closer and closer, and
he looks so different to before, not at all like the person I once loved so dearly. His face is scrunched and angry, confused and bitter.
‘No . . .
no
,’ I say quietly, backing away with my arms outstretched. ‘Go away . . . I don’t understand.’
He doesn’t react, but draws closer still, though more slowly now, a mean expression on his face. He knows how fearful I am, playing with me, wanting me to be scared. To finally teach me the lesson I deserve.
Stumbling backwards with my hands still up, as if that will somehow halt him, I force myself to turn, breaking into a staggering run. But it’s like one of those nightmares where my legs won’t work, as if they’re made of lead and I’m trying to escape with each clumsy step leading to nowhere.
‘Just leave me alone!’ I yell back over my shoulder. ‘Get away from me!’
His face is blank and sinister. None of this is real. I’ll wake up any moment drenched in sweat – Mum with her hand on my forehead, her thermometer, her pills . . .
He doesn’t reply. He just keeps moving forward, not taking his eyes off me. They burn into mine as I stumble and fall on the loose scree at the bottom of the wooded incline. My knees sting from the impact.
I have no idea what’s at the top of the hill, but there’s no way I’ll get past him now to make a quick escape back the way I came or even on round towards the car park. He’ll easily grab me, forcing me to tell him everything.
I pull myself up off the ground, blood seeping through
one knee of my pyjamas. My heart thumps as I climb, ignoring the pain in my feet as I use my hands to pull myself up the twisty and rocky track. Sweat breaks out on my face, even though the air is cool and damp in the shadows of the trees. I daren’t look back, can’t stand to see if he’s following me, how close he is behind.
Finally I reach a narrow ridge at the top of the hill. The view of the lake takes my breath away, though there’s no time for that. Back down the track, I see the dark outline of him running, coming after me, about a fifteen-second lag.
In a flash, I’m scrambling down the other side of the slope towards the water. If I just make it to the stone steps at the bottom, the going will be easier. But suddenly I’m doubling up from another sharp stabbing pain in my stomach, way worse than before.
I catch my breath, knowing I can’t afford to stop. I have to keep going. There’s a little hut at the edge of the water – perhaps I’ll be able to hide inside, or maybe even crawl under the jetty until he gives up and goes away.
I force myself upright, wishing I understood what was happening . . .
how
it could be happening. I press on, but God, it hurts so much . . .
‘Hannah, wait!’ I hear his voice from the top of the ridge.
The sound of him makes me want to cry. I swing round. He’s silhouetted against the sky. I’m half on my hands and knees at the bottom of the slope, only fifty metres or so from the hut, but he’s seen me now.
‘I said leave me alone. Go aw—’
But the words are whipped from my mouth by the biggest pain yet. A tight band encircles me, making me drop to the ground. My face is in the dirt as the tears come. I can’t go on.
I breathe deeply, sucking in strength from somewhere. A tiny voice inside me urges me on, tells me I can do this, that to face him will mean facing up to everything. And I’m not ready for that.
The pain subsides, leaving me aching and in shock. I pull myself up again, managing only a few steps before it comes again. Vomit rises up my throat and into my mouth, making me cough and gag and fall down again.
Just get to the hut, get to the hut
, the inner voice says, so I struggle on, clawing my way on all fours through the dirt.
But the air is whipped from my lungs as I’m suddenly yanked up by my arms. Something rips deep inside my shoulder, forcing a scream out of me.
‘What are you doing, you stupid girl?’ he growls. ‘Or should I say, what have you
done
?’
I’ve never seen him like this before. Never smelled the anger on his breath, or seen so much meanness in his eyes. He’s not the same person I once loved.
‘I just want to talk to you, Hannah,’ he continues, quieter now, panting back his anger as he senses my fear.
‘Get away from me!’ I scream, yanking my arm free. His hands are all over me again, wrestling me towards
the stone steps. My feet scuff and slide beneath me as he drags me along.
‘You’re coming back with me,’ he shouts. ‘And we’re going to talk.’
‘No!’ I scream, continuing with my futile struggle. My hair is everywhere as he rips the sleeve of my pyjamas. Spit flies from my mouth as I scream for him to get off. But he doesn’t.
We’re halfway up the stone steps now, my legs dragging behind as I try to make myself a dead weight. He’s so much stronger, fuelled by adrenalin and something else I never knew he had. Something menacing, something evil.
‘Leave me alone. Get off me!’
Finally I break free, though I’m frozen to the spot. I can’t stand what’s happening. Instead of running, I cover my face with my hands, shaking uncontrollably.
All I see behind the darkness of my palms, hidden in the depths of my shame, is my dad and what I did to him. All the mistakes I made. And what will happen because of them. Then the hot tears come.
The world swirls and dips as another griping pain rips through me. I reach out for something to grab, teetering . . . trying to get my balance on the edge of the step . . .
For a second I think I have a hold of his hand, that he’s held it out to help me, but it never comes. Either that, or he pulls away, allowing me to go down.
I feel myself falling backwards, screaming silently, the pain in my body too intense to stand. The trees are sideways, then upside down, their black branches spinning
around me as I tumble down the steps. The stone jabs and dents into me, knocking the air from my lungs, belting against my stomach, and, finally, one last blow to my head makes the world go completely black.
There’s blood everywhere. Spilling from my daughter. From up here on the ridge, she looks in a bad way.
‘Hannah!’ I scream, launching myself down the slope as fast as I can. ‘Dear God, Hannah, speak to me. Are you OK?’
She’s lying on her side at the bottom of the run of steps with her head bent backwards and her legs splayed in opposite directions. Dark red blood spills into the earth around her as the soft mossy ground soaks it up.
Oh Christ, oh Christ . . .
My feet slide and skid as I virtually fall down the hill to get to her. Frantic, I steady myself with my hands on the rocky, root-infested ground. I take the steps two at a time to reach her, jumping the last five and landing badly on my ankle.
I drop down on to my knees beside her, hardly daring to touch her. I lift her limp arm, trying to fit my shaking fingers around the tick of her pulse.
There’s nothing.
‘Hannah, speak to me!’
I press my fingers on different parts of her wrist, but can’t feel anything. I try her neck instead, desperate to feel a beat, however tenuous, telling me that my daughter is still alive.
There . . . was that something? I hold my first two fingers steady, making certain. It’s weak, but tells me her heart is still beating.
I breathe out heavily. My hands hover nervously over her body. First thing is to call an ambulance. She needs urgent medical attention. Blood is pouring from her, though I can’t tell where it’s coming from. I feel in my back pocket for my phone, then try the other side, but it’s not there. I hang my head as I remember dropping it into my bag, leaving it in the boot of the car while the mechanic worked.
‘Help!’ I call out up the hill, knowing the chance of anyone hearing me is unlikely. ‘Please help us!’ My throat catches as my words ricochet around the trees. ‘Oh Hannah, hang in there. I’ll get help.’
I don’t know what to do first – try to stop the bleeding, or run for a phone. I daren’t move her in case her neck or back are injured, so instead I peel away her blood-soaked pyjamas to see where she’s been hurt. I squint, hardly able to look at what damage there must be to have caused so much blood loss.
‘Hannah, I think you’ve hurt your legs, my love. Can you hear me, sweetie?’ My voice wavers and my hands barely work as I try to loosen her clothing. She gives a
sudden wheeze and choke, and her back arches and convulses almost as if she’s having some kind of fit.
‘Hannah, Hannah, I’m here . . . just breathe. Just hang in there, honey . . .’
Dear God, don’t let her die.
I whip off my sweatshirt and place it under my daughter’s head. For a second I can’t move – I’m fixated on my beautiful girl writhing beneath me. But then something inside me clicks – something that comes from the core of motherhood, from the very centre of wanting, no,
needing
to preserve the life of my child. It’s the same feeling of helplessness I had when they told me about Jacob. That it was too late. That nothing could save him.