“What the hell are you doing on my laptop?” Alex snapped, towering over Emily. She had never seen him like this before.
Emily had just come home from school when the heavy stench of alcohol hit her in the hallway. From the bedroom came the sound of loud snoring. Her father was drunkagain. She bypassed the mess and headed straight to the kitchen.
Her mum stood at the sink, peeling potatoes. Hearing footsteps, she turned. Emilys sharp eyes immediately caught the red, swollen mark on her cheek.
“Mum, we need to leave him. How much more can we take? Hell kill you one day,” Emily said, fists clenched.
“And go where? Whod want us? We cant afford rent. Dont worry, love, he wont kill me. Hes a coward. Only brave enough to hit me.”
The next morning, strange noises woke Emily. She crept into the kitchen to find her father at the stove, head tilted back, gulping straight from the kettle. She watched, hypnotised, as his Adams apple bobbed up and down. The sound of the water sliding down his throat made her queasy. Just drown, she thought bitterly. Please, just drown.
But he didnt. He set the kettle down with a satisfied sigh, gave her a bleary-eyed stare, and shuffled past her to the bathroom.
Emily grimaced, knowing her mum would still use the kettle without washing it first. She scrubbed it fiercely, vowing never to drink from it without cleaning it herself.
During winter break, Emilys class went on a three-day trip to Manchester. When she returned, her mum was in hospital.
“Did you slip on ice?” Emily asked flatly, eyeing the bandages.
Her mum nodded weakly. But Emily knew she was lying.
The beatings had left her with high blood pressure. Six months later, she had a stroke and died. At the funeral, her father wept drunkenly, sometimes mourning his beloved Margaret, other times cursing her for abandoning him.
He told Emily she was just like her mum, threatening that if she ever tried to leave, hed kill her too. Emily counted the days until graduation. She skipped prom, quietly collected her diploma the next morning, and while her father was at work, packed her things and ran.
Her dad gave her money for food, and she saved every penny. Sometimes, she even pinched a few notes from his pocket while he slept. It wasnt much, but it was enough to start over. Shed decided long agoshed work, study part-time, and never look back.
She wasnt afraid hed find her. Everyone in their neighbourhood knew what he was like. No one would help him.
Emily moved to London, rented a cheap flat on the outskirts, and got a job at a fast-food chain. They helped her with a medical certificate, free mealssmall perks that meant the world. She enrolled in a vocational school for accounting, and when they found out she was training to be a bookkeeper, they put her on the till.
The lads at work tried their luck. “Theyre all sweet at first,” her mum used to say. “Then they start drinking or cheating. Dont fall for the charm, love. I was pretty once too. Your dad didnt drink when we met. We loved each other. Where did it all go wrong?”
Emily remembered those words and kept her distance. Shed seen how her parents story ended.
On payday, shed buy bulk groceriespasta, cereal, tinned foodjust like her mum had. Her dad had wasted his wages on booze, but there was always food in the house, even if it was dull. Now, Emily did the same.
One evening, lugging a heavy bag home, she nearly collided with a bloke glued to his phone.
“Sorry,” he said, finally looking up.
She wanted to snap, but his warm smile caught her off guard.
“Salright, wasnt looking either,” she mumbled, cheeks flushing.
He offered to help carry her bag. Reluctantly, she handed it over. Someone with a smile that genuine couldnt be all bad. They talked. Alex walked her home, though she didnt let him to the door.
The next day, he “accidentally” turned up at her work. She wasnt fooled. They started seeing each other.
Alex was honesthe was divorced, had a little girl he adored. Hed left their flat to his ex and was crashing at a mates. “Married too young,” he admitted. “We had nothing in common. Some days, we didnt speak at all.”
He talked endlessly about his daughter, and Emily thoughtmaybe here was a man she could trust. After a month, Alex suggested moving in together.
“Lets get a nicer place, closer to town. Easier with two.”
Emily agreed, dizzy with hope. A normal family. A fresh start. They moved to a spacious flat, toasted their new life with cheap wine. She didnt dream of weddings, but Alex didtwo kids, a boy and a girl. She let herself believe it.
He paid two months rent upfront. By the third, his tone turned sheepish.
Emily took one last look at the flat where shed dared to hope, then shut the door firmly, whispering a promise to her son waiting in the incubator: “Well be alright, love. Well be far away from all this.”
