Run From Him: The Chilling Tale of Lika, the Controlling Boyfriend, and the Dark Secret Behind the Locked Room

Author Walton MerrittReading 7 minViews 1

Run Away From Him

Oh, hey there, mate! Hannah plops down on the chair next to Emily. Long time no see. Hows everything?

Hi, Han, Emily replies, a bit distantly. Im alright.

If youre alright, why wont you look at me? Hannah peers at her friend. Has Tom mucked up again? What did he do this time?

Oh, dont start with the drama, Emily rolls her eyes, plainly regretting she ever stepped into this café. Everythings fine. Tom and I have a perfect relationship, honestly. Hes a good man. Lets just drop it.

Not waiting to hear Hannah protest, Emily gets up and leaves behind a half-eaten scone. She doesnt want anyones advice, still convinced her friends are just jealous of her.

Tom is just wonderful. Handsome, successful, attentive. Sure, every now and then, he has a few odd rules. Like how he banned Emily from dyeing her hair blonde.

That was the first major row they ever had. It nearly ended in a break-up! And all over something so minor!

Emily went to the salon for a trim. The stylist insisted she was meant to be blonde, and Emily went for it. She came home with platinum curls.

Tom went pale with fury. He hurled the book hed been reading on the sofa, and there was a torrent of harsh words, plus a demand: dye it back. Immediately. No blondes allowed in his flat.

Emily, close to tears, dashed straight back to the nearest salon. The hairdresser tried to talk her out of it; the colour really did suit her. But when Emily started crying, they quickly set things right.

When she returned, Tom just nodded in satisfaction and said nothing. The next morning, he gave her an expensive bracelet as an apology.

But there were also things like not letting Emily wear white. Red, blue, greenany colour but never white. She once joked about what colour her wedding dress would be, but Tom shot her such a strange look, she decided not to ask again.

You really should leave him, Hannah had pleaded back then. Dont look back. Today he wont let you wear white, tomorrow what? Wont let you go outside? I dont care how nice he seems, you need to find someone, well, normal.

Everyones got their quirks. Emily only shrugged. Were serious, you know. Even planning a baby. Tom really hopes for a daughter. Hes even picked a nameAngela. And youre telling me to run.

****************************************

Emily shouldve listened to her friend. Hannah had it right about Toms peculiarities, and soon enough, Emily would see for herself.

In Toms house, there was one room she was never allowed into. It was always locked. One day, Emily joked:

Youre not related to Bluebeard, are you?

Dont worry, Tom gave a strange little smirk. I dont hide my ex-wives bodies in there.

That was the end of it, until Emily stumbled upon the truth by sheer chance. She came home from university earlyher last class was cancelled because her lecturer was away. She knew Tom was in, but she couldnt find him anywhere. Passing the forbidden door, she heard an odd murmur. She gently nudged the door. Through a small gap, she saw something that turned her cold.

A huge portrait of a woman, covering nearly the whole wall. Tom knelt in front of it.

The girl in the painting smiled sweetly, arms outstretched to someone unseen. And she looked just like Emilyexcept the woman had golden hair.

Just a little longer, Angela. Soon, well be together, Tom kept repeating. Emily was so upset she almost threw the door wide and stormed in. But then she heard Toms next words.

Shell have a daughter for me, I know she will. And then, your soul can live in her little body. Youll be with me. Forever. Ill look after you, and when youre grown, well love each other again.

Hes mad! shot through Emilys mind, and panic seized her. Hannah was right all along! But what now? How do you escape a madman? The worst partEmily really was carrying a child. No one knew yet, it was much too early to tell.

Her parents were far away, and among her few close friends, only Hannah was nearby. So thats where Emily ended up.

I never imagined Tom could be like this, Emily whispered, fists trembling. If I hadnt seen it with my own eyes, Id never have believed it.

Calm down, Hannah handed her a glass of water, which Emily drank gratefully. You need to decide what youll do. Are you going to stay with him?

Never! Emily shook her head violently. Hes insane. Im terrified for myself and the baby. She allowed herself a grim little smile. At least now I know why I couldnt dye my hair or wear white. It made me look too much like her.

Good thing youve found out before marrying him, Hannah said sensibly. You havent told him about the baby, have you?

I was hoping to make it a surprise

Best keep it that way. Tell him youve found someone else and move away, Hannah sighed heavily. Its probably best if you go back home. You can transfer to a local university later. But the main thingkeep away from him.

I suppose youre right.

*****************************************

The last six months have been harrowing for Emily. Not as much physically, as mentally. The upheaval, all those difficult talks with her parents Emily dropped out of her course because of the pregnancyshe couldnt bring herself to have an abortion; the baby wasnt to blame. In the end, Emily had a daughter, just as Tom had hoped for.

To Emilys surprise, Tom let her go quite easily. He merely hinted that she shouldnt go round telling tales. He didnt even ask where she was off to, as though he truly no longer cared.

From time to time, Emily wonders whether she made a mistake by leaving Tomespecially not telling him about the child. Tonight, as she puts little Angie to bed, she stands by the window, lost in thought.

The doorbell rings. The delivery driver is here with her dinner. Emily never did learn to cook. After a quick meal, she heads for her stack of textbooksshe really does intend to get back to her studies.

But the words on the page swim; her head spins. Emily reaches for her phone to call an ambulance, but her hands wont obey. She cant move at all. Just before she blacks out, she sees Tom, gently lifting their newborn daughter into his arms.

***********************************************

Emily wakes up in hospital. Her mother had chosen the perfect moment to visit and found her.

The police search everywhere for the childbut shes vanished without a trace. Tom, with baby Angie in tow, seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

It isnt until years later that Emily receives a small sign. A photograph, sent anonymously, shows Tom embracing a beautiful, blonde little girl.

Just Hold On a Little Longer – Mum, this is for Anna’s next semester. Mary set the envelope down on the scratched plastic tablecloth. One thousand pounds. She’d counted it three times—at home, on the bus, at the front door. It was always exactly the amount needed. Eleanor put aside her knitting and looked over the top of her glasses at her daughter. – Mary, love, you look a bit peaky. Shall I put the kettle on? – No need, Mum. I’m just popping in, have to dash straight to my second shift. The kitchen smelled of boiled potatoes and something medicinal—maybe Mum’s joint cream or the drops Mary bought every month. Forty pounds a bottle, lasting just shy of three weeks. Plus blood pressure tablets. Plus quarterly check-ups. – Anna was so pleased about the bank internship, – Eleanor said gently, taking the envelope as if it were made of the finest glass. – She says there are good prospects. Mary kept quiet. – Tell her these are the last funds for uni. The final semester. Mary had carried this weight for five years. Each month—an envelope for Mum, a bank transfer for her sister. Each month, the calculator came out: minus rent, minus medicine, minus groceries for Mum, minus Anna’s tuition. What was left? A rented room in a shared flat, a winter coat now six years old, and forgotten dreams of her own place. Mary once dreamed of a weekend in London—just to wander Tate Britain, walk along the Thames. She’d started to save, but then Mum had her first serious turn and all the savings vanished on doctors. – You ought to take a break, love, – Mum stroked her hand. – You look done in. – Soon, Mum. I will. Soon. Soon meant once Anna got a job. Once Mum’s condition settled. Once Mary could exhale and care for herself, just as she’d been telling herself for five years. Anna got her economics degree in June—first class, Mary had taken a day off to attend the ceremony. She watched her little sister cross the stage in a new dress—her gift, obviously—and thought: this is it. Now it all changes. Anna would start earning, and Mary could finally stop counting every penny. Four months passed. – You don’t get it, – Anna sat curled on the sofa in fluffy socks – I didn’t go to uni for five years to slave away for peanuts. – Fifty grand a year isn’t peanuts. – For you, maybe. Mary bit down on her annoyance. At her main job, she earned forty-two. Her second job—an extra twenty, on a good week. Sixty-two thousand, with luck. If she kept fifteen for herself, she was lucky. – Anna, you’re twenty-two. You need to start work somewhere. – I will. Just not for a pittance in a dingy office. Eleanor busied herself in the kitchen, clattering plates—always acting like she couldn’t hear. Every time her daughters argued, she absented herself, then later, as Mary went to leave, she’d whisper, “Don’t be hard on Anna, love. She’s still young. She just doesn’t get it.” Doesn’t get it. Twenty-two, and still doesn’t get it. – I’m not made of time, Anna. – Stop dramatising. It’s not like I’m asking for handouts. I just want to find something decent. Not asking directly. But Mum asked: “Mary, Anna needs some money for a course; she wants to brush up on her English.” “Mary, Anna’s phone is broken, she needs it for job searching.” “Mary, Anna’s coat is wrecked, and winter’s coming.” Mary sent the money, bought the coat, paid the bills. Silently. Because that was how it always went: she toiled, and the rest just accepted it. – I’ve got to run, – she stood up. – Evening shift tonight. – Wait, I’ll pop some pasties in a packet for you! – Mum called from the kitchen. Cabbage pasties. Mary took the bag and stepped into the chilly, cat-scented stairwell. Ten minutes at a brisk clip to the bus stop. Then an hour on the bus. Then eight hours on her feet. Then four more on her computer, if she made it in time for her freelance shift. And Anna would be home, scrolling vacancies, awaiting the universe to provide her with the perfect hundred-and-fifty-thousand-pounds, work-from-home role. The first blow-up came in November. – Are you even doing anything? – Mary snapped, seeing Anna sprawled on the sofa just as she was the week before. – Have you sent a single CV? – I’ve sent three. – In a whole month—three? Anna rolled her eyes and buried her face in her phone. – You don’t get how the job market is now. The competition is brutal, you have to pick the right jobs. – The “right” ones? The ones where you get paid to lie on the sofa? Eleanor popped her head round from the kitchen, wringing her hands on the tea towel. – Girls, fancy a cuppa? I made cake… – Not now, Mum, – Mary rubbed her temples. Third day running with a headache. – Just tell me why I have to work two jobs when she won’t take on one? – Mary, Anna’s still young. She’ll find her way… – When? In a year? In five? I was working at her age! Anna jerked upright. – Sorry for not wanting your life! Slaving away, never doing anything but work! Silence. Mary took her bag and left. On the ride home, she stared at the rain-streaked window and thought: a workhorse. That’s how I look from the outside. Eleanor called next day, pleading for peace. – Anna didn’t mean it, darling. She’s just upset, it’s hard for her. Just hold on a little longer, she’ll get a job soon. Hold on. Her mother’s favourite phrase. Hold on till Dad gets better. Hold on till Anna grows up. Hold on till things improve. Mary had been holding on all her life. The arguments became routine. Every visit to Mum ended the same way: Mary tried to reason with Anna, Anna snapped back, Eleanor darted between them, fretting and begging for calm. Afterwards, Mary left. Eleanor phoned with apologies. And it all repeated. – You have to understand, she’s your sister, – Mum said. – And she needs to understand I’m not a cash machine. – Mary… In January, Anna called herself. Her voice sparkled with excitement. – Mary! I’m getting married! – What? To who? – He’s called Dave. We’ve been seeing each other three weeks. He’s just perfect! Three weeks. Three weeks—and now marriage. Mary wanted to say it was crazy, to get to know someone first, but held her tongue. Maybe it was for the best. If she got married, her husband could support her, and Mary could finally breathe. That fragile hope evaporated at the family dinner. – I’ve got it all planned! – Anna beamed. – Hundred-guest reception, live band, found a dress in a designer boutique… Mary put her fork down. – And all that costs…? – Well…—Anna shrugged, disarmingly—Five grand? Maybe six. But it’s once in a lifetime! A wedding! – And who’s paying? – Mary, come on… Dave’s parents can’t help, he says, mortgage and all. And Mum’s nearly on the breadline. You’ll have to get a loan, probably. Mary stared at her. Then at her mum. Eleanor looked away. – Are you serious? – Mary, it’s a wedding, – Mum used that syrupy tone Mary remembered since childhood. – Once in a lifetime, love. Can’t be stingy… – You want me to take out a six grand loan to pay for a wedding for someone who’s never even bothered to find a job? – You’re my sister! – Anna slapped the table – You have to! – Have to? Mary stood. The world went strangely calm and quiet. – Five years. Five years I paid for your education. For Mum’s medicines. For your food, clothes, heating. I work two jobs. I have no car, no flat, no holidays. I’m twenty-eight, and I haven’t bought myself anything new in a year and a half. – Mary, calm down… – Eleanor started. – No! Enough! For years I’ve supported both of you, and you’re sitting here demanding more from me? That’s it. From today, I live for myself. She left, snatching her coat from the hook. It was minus five outside but Mary didn’t feel the cold. She felt a strange warmth instead—as if she’d finally shrugged off the sack of stones that had weighed her down all her life. Her phone buzzed endlessly. She blocked both numbers. …Six months later. Mary moved into a tiny one-bedroom flat—her own, finally. In summer she visited London—four days, Tate Britain, the Thames, long summer evenings. She bought herself a new dress. And another. Some shoes, too. She found out about her family by chance—from a school friend who worked near her mum’s place. – Hey, is it true your sister’s wedding was called off? Mary froze with her coffee cup. – What? – Oh, they say the groom bailed. Heard there was no money, so he legged it. Mary sipped her coffee. It tasted bitter—and, strangely, delicious. – Don’t know. We don’t speak. That evening, Mary sat by the window of her new flat and realised she felt no spite. Not an ounce. Just a quiet, peaceful satisfaction of someone who has finally stopped being the family workhorse…