Drawn (32 page)

“Do you know what you want to do about the baby?”

“I don’t know mum. I’m not ready.”

“You’re not ready for what?” my father asks as he enters the room. My mother and I just exchange glances. I don’t think either one of us actually wants to answer that question. “Not ready for what?” he repeats more insistently, looking between us both
, knowing from our own reaction that something huge has happened.

“You might want to sit down for this one, dear. And you have to promise to stay calm.”

“Just. Tell. Me.”

My mother looks at me again, her mouth moving to make the words, but struggling to actually find them. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.

“Mother fucker,” he growls. “That little bastard. I’ll fucking kill him!” The veins in his forehead seem ready to burst out of his skin. “Where is he?”

“No. Please. This is my fault. I’m the one who was stupid. Don’t hurt him dad!” I plead, crying and panicked, wishing I had never come here to tell them.

“I told you!” he yells at my mother. “I told you not to let her go. And now look what’s happened. Our daughter is goddamned pregnant.” He lets out a roar of aggression as he twists his body and slams his fist into the wall, popping through the plaster with a loud crack.

“Stop!” my mother yells. “This isn’t helping anyone. If we’re going to start pointing fingers then they should all be pointed at you. You’re the one who kept her locked up for all those years. I’m surprised she didn’t rebel at sixteen like Craig did and end up pregnant then! You are too suffocating Barry
, and if you don’t calm the hell down and support our daughter instead of fighting against her, we will end up losing her for good. Is that what you want? Well? Is it?!”

Never in my life have I seen my mother yelling at my father, and by the look on his face, he hasn’t witnessed it either.

He stands in the doorway, my great big hulk of a father, and looks between the two women in his life, his eyes wide with rage as he looks for something he can do to fix this. But there’s nothing he can do. This is one situation that is completely out of his control.

“Fine. I’ll back off. But she’s moving back home. Understood?” he says, before disappearing from the door.

“Where is he going?” I ask my mother.

“I’d say he’s going to pack your room up and bring you back home.”

“Oh no,” I say, grabbing for my phone to warn Jessica and Kensi, the last thing they need is to be freaked out by a visit from my father.

“Well, what do you want us to do?” Jessica asks.

“Just let him do it. Don’t get in his way,” I say quietly, knowing that being back home with my parents is the only way I’m going to make the break from Damien. If I stay out on my own, I’ll just end up back with him. “I’m sorry Jess. I really am so, so sorry.”

“Me too Etta. Me too.
Just let us know if you need us.”

After another week has passed, I know what I have to do. Damien still hasn’t made contact with me, and even though I haven’t contacted him either, I take it as a sign that he’s letting me go. He used to talk of never letting me go, of always needing me by his side. So the fact that he hasn’t even attempted contact speaks volumes to me.

As much as I know that our relationship isn’t healthy, I can’t help but be completely heart broken. I
still haven’t returned to university. I’m not ready and I’ve missed too many classes. I’m going to defer my studies for a semester. Just until I get my life together.

I enlist Aaron to go with me to pick up my t
hings from Damien’s apartment. Jeremy has reported seeing him at uni, so it seems as though he’s just moving on with his life without me – how nice for him... With this knowledge in mind, I choose a day when I know he has class, and ask Aaron to wait for me downstairs in the car, so I can make a quick getaway.

“I can come in if you like,” he suggests.

“No, I don’t think it’s right to take you in there. It’s still his space.”

Using my key to get inside, I push the door open, peaking around the edge of it. Shockingly, the usually pristine apartment is littered with beer bottles and pizza boxes. My stomach heaves a little at the smell, so I cover my nose with my hand and make my way toward the bedroom.

Everything in there is exactly as it was when I left it. It’s as if it’s some sort of a shrine to our time together and reminds me of what my parents did with my brother’s room. The dress I wore to the night club is still sitting on the floor at the foot of the unmade bed, covers pushed into the middle, showing that two people had been in there.

Reaching down, I pick up his shirt, and hold it to my face, inhaling deeply, breathing him in. Tears spring to my eyes as my heart aches for everything that I love about him.

I find myself wondering if we should try and work this out. Try and start over – with different ground rules. Would he accept that? Would he share his life with me properly and let me freely live my own, or would he always be trying to control me?

Knowing that the latter is most likely true, fresh tears begin to fall as I move around the room and pack up my things. Pulling the handle up on my suitcase
when I’m finished, I stand it up and take one last look around the room before I make my way to the door.

Half way there, I hear a muffled noise – it sounds like music playing. I pause, listening for the direction of the sound. My eyes shift immediately toward the door of the spare room.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I leave my bag by the front door and make my way to the other room. The padlock is hanging open, so I know it’s unlocked. Nervously, I take a deep breath to steel myself for whatever it is I’m about to see then turn the handle and push the door open.

If I thought my heart was broken before, it just shattered into a million
, irrecoverable pieces.

Inside, it looks very much like the set of a television show
, or a photographic studio. On one side is a desk with a laptop set up on it, as well as some photographic gear. Behind that are images. All over the walls, there are images. Admittedly, they’re very artful, but erotic looking, featuring women, men and couples. On the other side, the walls are all black, and there’s even a black four poster bed, covered with crimson material and bedding. It would all be rather impressive, and I could even see past the nakedness of the subjects in the portraits, if it wasn’t for what was going on in front of me right now.

In the middle of the bed is
Damien, with a good week’s worth of beard growth. He’s passed out. He’s stark naked, his cock hard in his sleep and glistening from recent use. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’s not alone. Curled up next to him is Bec, her long dark hair, flowing out on the pillow in chocolate waves as her naked limbs drape over Damien’s body.

As an extra kick in the guts, she has a hand drawn tattoo on her thigh. It’s not flowers and butterflies like the ones he’s drawn on me,
it’s skulls and thorns. But it’s unmistakably his hand.

My breath catches in my throat
, as a fresh bout of tears pours out of my eyes, I shake my head, not quite believing that what we had was that easy for him to get over. That easy to move on from.

Choking back my sobs, I back out of the room, planning on making a very speedy and very quiet
get away. But I’m not so lucky. My phone starts ringing the tune I have programmed for Aaron. I’ve obviously taken too long and he’s calling to check on me.

Fumbling with my bag, I grab it and silence it as fast as I can, but I’m too late. He’s already sitting up.

“Fuck,” he croaks, his voice sounding like sand paper. He tries to stand, and clutches his head as he stumbles toward the door. “Etta?” he says, as if he thinks I might be an apparition.

“I just came to get my things,” I state,
forcing my words out through my tears as I grab the handle of my bag and place my hand on the door. “I would have woken you to say goodbye. But, you have company.”

“What?” he asks, looking confused, before glancing over his shoulder to the sleeping Bec. “Oh no. Shit.” He mumbles to himself, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“I’m glad you didn’t have trouble moving on from our…our everything. I obviously meant a lot to you.”

“Etta, you have to believe me, I don’t even remember her coming over. Please. You mean everything to me. You are everything. Please don’t go.”

“Go and fuck your new girlfriend Damien,” I say, dropping my key on the floor and exiting the apartment, knowing that I have the time it takes Damien to get clothes and shoes on to make it to the car.

“Etta!” he calls from behind me as I reach the foyer
. He appears with only a pair of pants on, obviously in too much of a rush to worry about shoes and a shirt.

I pause at the door but keep my back toward him.

“Please, just talk to me. We can work anything out. We belong together. You’re carrying my baby.”

“I’m too young to have a baby with you
Damien,” I say in response.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Tell me you didn’t… please tell me you didn’t.” his voice grows panicked. “No Etta.”

“It means I took care of it,” I tell him. “You’re free.”

“No,” he groans, the emotion and pain thick in his voice
as I hurt him with my words.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, refusing to look at him. I can’t bear to see the heartbreak on his face, I don’t trust myself not to give into him. I just push through the door and walk quickly for Aaron’s car where it’s waiting on the curb.

“NO!” Damien roars, slamming his fist into the row of letterboxes hanging on the wall.

“Shit. Get in,” Aaron says, taking a hold of my bag and dropping it in the boot, racing back to the driver’s seat and jumping inside.

“Are you ok?” 

“No
. Just drive,” I say, as I do up my seatbelt.

Aaron starts the engine, the radio bursting to life with Gemma Hayes
’ version of
Wicked Game
.

As a tear rolls down my cheeks, I hear
Damien screaming after us. Banging on the window. Trying to open the door.

“Go!” I cry, squ
eezing my eyes shut tight. I can’t look at him. I’m scared that if I do, I’ll go back. As the engine roars, catapulting me away, I can’t help but think how fitting this song is. I never dreamed that the man I fell in love with, so completely would be so wrong for me. I close my eyes and keep my head forward, knowing that if I catch a glimpse of him right now, I won’t be able to go on.

“You’re doing the right thing
, Etta.”

“I know. It doesn’t stop it from hurting though.” Openly I sob, huge wracking sobs that shake my body and turn into
anguished howls.

Aaron keeps talking to me, trying to calm me down. But I can’t. My heart feels so destroyed that I can’t imagine it ever being repaired.

Closing my eyes, all I can see is Damien’s face. He truly was my everything, my life, my breath, my heart. But loving him was like a sickness, one I don’t think I’ll ever recover from.

My love for Damien is
a teardrop that will hang inside my soul for all eternity.

It’s been three years since Henrietta walked out of my life. She took my heart, my love, and my light with her that day. And I hated her for it. I hated her for giving up on us, for getting rid of the baby.

I went out that night
, and I got into a massive bar fight. I hurt a lot of people and did a lot of damage. As a result, I spent the last two and a half years in prison. The judge was pretty hard on me because of my martial arts background and the fact that my street fighting had made me a ‘person of interest’. He said that I was a walking weapon and knew exactly what I was doing.

I guess he was right. I wanted blood that night, and I didn’t care where I got it.

But now I’m out, and I’m determined to find her and make things right. Time can heal a lot of things, but it can’t make love go away. Not the kind of love I have for her anyway.

What I feel for her is soul consuming. I need her. I don’t think I can live much longer without seeing her again. I know I can win her back. I just need to take things slower this time.

The GPS navigator on my phone tells me that her house isn’t much further. It took me a while to find her. She’s moved to Phillip Island in Victoria and is unlisted, so I had to coax her location out of friends.

But now I’ve found her, and I can’t wait to see her.

Walking around the house with a basket in my hands, I lean down and pick up random items that have been strewn around the house, shaking my head, but smiling to myself all the while.

Pulling out the vacuum from the hall cupboard, I plug it into the wall and switch it on, gathering all of the dust bunnies that have accumulated under our couch.

My brow pulls together as I think I hear the doorbell over the drone of the motor. Hitting the off button, I move to the front door and look through the screen.