“What the hell are you doing in my laptop?” snapped Alex, towering over Eleanor. She had never seen him like this before
Eleanor had come home from school and caught the heavy stench of alcohol in the hallway. A loud snoring echoed from the bedroom. Her father was drunk again. She walked straight past it and into the kitchen.
Her mother stood at the sink, peeling potatoes. Hearing footsteps, she turned. Eleanors sharp eyes immediately caught the red, swollen mark on her cheek.
“Mum, lets leave him. How much longer can we take this? Hell kill you one day,” Eleanor said bitterly.
“And go where? Whod want us? Weve no money for rent. Dont worry, he wont kill me. Hes a coward. Only dares to hit me.”
The next morning, strange noises woke Eleanor. She rose and peered into the kitchen. Her father stood by the stove, his head tilted back as he drank straight from the kettle. Hypnotised, she watched his Adams apple bob up and down. The sound of the liquid sliding down his throat made her sick. *”Choke. Please, God, let him choke!”* she thought, seething.
But he didnt. He set the kettle down with a satisfied sigh, his bloodshot eyes flickering towards her before he shuffled past to the bathroom.
Eleanor grimaced, knowing her mother would refill the kettle without washing away the stale spit and his foul smell. She scrubbed it furiously with a brush, vowing never to drink from it without cleaning it first.
That winter, Eleanors class went on a three-day trip to York. When she returned, her mother was in hospital.
“Did he do this?” she demanded, seeing the bandages wrapped around her mothers head.
“No, love. I slipped on ice.”
But Eleanor knew she was lying.
The beatings had left her mother with high blood pressure. Six months later, she suffered a stroke and died. At the funeral, her father wept drunken tearssometimes mourning his “darling Margaret,” other times cursing her name.
He swore Eleanor was just like her mother. Threatened that if she ever tried to leave, hed kill her too. She waited impatiently to finish school. She skipped prom. The next day, she collected her diploma in secret while he was at work, packed her things, and fled.
Her father gave her money for food, but Eleanor saved every penny. Sometimes, she even stole from his pockets while he slept. It wasnt much, but it was enough for a start. Shed long decided to work and study part-time.
She wasnt afraid hed come looking. The whole neighbourhood knew his habitsno one would help him find her. She moved to London, rented a cheap flat on the outskirts, and got a job at a diner. They helped her with a medical certificate and free meals.
She enrolled in night classes for bookkeeping. When they found out she was studying, they put her on the till.
Boys tried to flirt. “Theyre all sweet and gentle at first,” her mother had often warned. “Then they start drinking or cheating. I dont know which is worse. Dont fall for their pretty words, love. I was beautiful once too. Your father didnt drink when we met. We were in love. What happened? What got into him?”
Eleanor remembered and ignored their advances. Shed seen where that life led.
On payday, her mother used to buy groceries in bulkpasta, sugar, tinsmaking sure theyd last. Her father drank his wages, but there was always food, plain as it was. Now, Eleanor did the same.
One evening, hauling a heavy bag home, she nearly collided with a boy glued to his phone.
“Sorry,” he said, glancing up.
She meant to snap back, but his warm smile disarmed her.
“Its fine, I wasnt looking either,” she replied, softening.
He offered to help. Hesitant, she handed him the bag. Someone with a smile like that couldnt be bad. They talked. Alex carried it to her door, though she wouldnt let him inside.
The next day, he turned up at the diner. Claimed it was chance. Eleanor knew better. They started seeing each other.
Alex admitted honestly that he was divorced, that he adored his little girl. Hed left the flat to his ex and was crashing with a mate. Said hed married young and foolish.
“We just didnt fit. Had nothing in common. Sometimes wed go days without speaking.”
He talked endlessly about his daughter, and Eleanor thought maybe she could trust a man who loved his child. After a month, Alex suggested moving in together.
“Lets find a nicer place, closer to town. Its easier together.”
Eleanor agreed, giddy with hope. A proper family at last. They rented a cosy flat, celebrated their fresh start quietly. She didnt dream of weddingsbut Alex talked of children, insisting theyd have two: a boy and a girl. And she let herself believe it.
He paid two months rent upfront. By the third, in a sheepish tone, he
Eleanor took one last look at the flat where shed dared to hope for happiness, then shut the door firmly, whispering a promise to her newborn son in the NICU: *”Well be alright, love. Well be far away from all this.”*
