Final LockDown (17 page)

“It’s nice to hear that Abs, don’t stop okay. Everything will work out. Surely the gods have taught you something by now. Everything will be fine for you because you’re deserving of it. Come on, I want to get you back home and settled. George has cooked a nice roast.” I groan at that. I haven’t had a roast in ages and my mouth is salivating at the thought of some nice potatoes and meat. “Like the sound of that don’t you sweet cheeks. Hurry your arse up then, I’m hungry.” He places his hand at the bottom of my back and pushes me out of the room. I have nothing to take with me, all my belongings remain at home. I don’t want to see my dress again, it is just a reminder of the day I married Leighton. I don’t want to see the blood that had caused the following events.

“Oh shut it, you bloody girl.” He tickles my side and I slap him away.

“You know, it’s so lovely to hear and see you a little happy. You’ve been so down all week and I’ve hated seeing you like it. I could kill him for leaving you. I won’t because you love him, but I could.” I really don’t want to hear any more about death right now.

“I do love him, with everything I am Ant. I just want him home, with me, Mel and Joe.”

“I’ll find him, I promise you, I’ll get him back to you.” I rest my head on his shoulder and walk the halls of the hospital to the car park. He helps me in, straps Mel in and then Georgia drives away.

*****

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you into bed,” I whisper as I lay Mel in her cot, covering her chubby little self with her blanket. I switch the mobile on above her head, the room illuminating with multi-coloured lights. The soft lullaby plays and I watch as her eyes fight so hard to stay open, eventually closing. Her lashes lay peacefully against her rosy cheeks. She is pure perfection and I am proud to be her mum.

“She asleep?” I hear Thomas say from behind me. He is still the best friend I could ask for. I turn and look at him, dressed in his luxury perfect suit as usual. Gone are his chef whites, now the smartly dressed aristocrat. His black hair lays perfect on his head and his almost black eyes swallow me in brotherly affection.

“Nearly. She’s going off. How you been?” I ask him. I haven’t seen him since the wedding; he has been busy finding Melissa and then keeping the restaurant running.

“Good, come downstairs and have a drink?” he asks me, walking to me and taking my hand. “You need to forget for a bit okay?” He pulls me from the room, turning the bedroom light off behind him.

“You heard from Leighton, Tom?” I question him, hoping that he will say yes, or that he at least knows something of his whereabouts or wellbeing.

“No, I haven’t, and he won’t want me hearing from him because I’ll kill the bastard. You need to stop thinking about him and think of yourself for once.” He pulls me into him, wrapping his loving arms around me.

“It’s hard Tom, it’s so fucking hard. I just want to know he’s okay and not dead somewhere.” I sigh as I think for the billionth time this week of Leighton dead somewhere. I refuse to cry, I have done enough of that, I need strength now, not weakness.

“Leighton will be fine. No one has ever one-upped him. You needn’t worry sweetie. Now, there is a nice glass of brandy with your name on it so get your skinny arse downstairs.” He slaps my arse playfully and it makes me laugh. He is so gay it is ridiculous, but I love him with my entire heart.

“Fine, I’m going. But there better be a second and third glass chucked in.” I smile to him and I’m comforted in the innocence and love I see there.

“There’s a whole bottle if that’s what you want, angel face.”

“Oh yes, now that’s what I’m talking about.” I smile a real smile for the first time in ages and I know it is due to Thomas. He always knows how to cheer me up, let’s face it; he is the one who dragged me from the depths I was in when I first arrived here.

“Let’s get shitfaced, and forget our problems for a second,” he says as we take the grand stairs down towards the lounge.

I walk through the doorway to our huge lounge to see Nate, Ant and Georgia sitting there. “This is your time Ab; let’s let you forget the world for a bit. Leave us to worry about things,” Georgia says as she stands and grasps the bottle of amber liquid and hands it to me. “Forget my arsehole brother for a day and let yourself breathe,” she continues.

I really shouldn’t drink with all the pain meds I am on, that is sure to be a crappy cocktail, but I really don’t give a flying fuck right now. I need to chill and the drink sounds like a perfect way.

“Thanks everyone,” I say as I lift the glass bottle to my lips and drain a few mouthfuls. Ahhh, that’s better, I tell myself.

I really shouldn’t have drunk the entire bottle, because as my head hits the pillow at three in the morning, I feel as though I am going to die. Or at least I hope I will as I sleep in my bed without my husband.

He’s here, he’s near, I can sense him, feel him. Slowly, he’s taking over every thought.

“You’re dead,” I shout at the black essence, kicking at the mist.

“Nobody is dead inside here, Abigail.” He laughs maliciously, smothering me. My body begins to shake with a need to escape, to run away, but I can't, the very feel of him near has me petrified by my fear.

“Leighton.” I need him, I call for him, begging for him to return to me and save me.

“Leighton doesn’t want you, nobody wants you. They’re not coming for you. I’ll have you, you won't need anyone else.” I look to myself and I'm naked, shivering in fear as the darkness surrounds me.

“Yes, he does. He loves me, Leighton loves me,” I answer, begging for his presence right now.

He laughs again, the deathly spirit whipping back and forth around me. “Loves you? He can't stand to be around you.” I cover my face with my hands, sealing my eyes from the horror.

“LEIGHTON!” I shout, tossing and turning.

“Abbi, wake up. You’re safe. It’s just a nightmare.” Maria holds me as I shake with my nightmare. The memories, they won't subside, they just attack me every night when I’m weak and deflated.

“I need him, Maria, I need him back.” I can't do this without him, it’s becoming harder every day to be away from him. Why can't he just see I love him, that I need him to live and breathe every day?

“I know, he’ll be back soon. I promise you.” She pushes me back down onto the bed, covering me over. She strokes my hair until I feel my eyes heavy again. “Sweet dreams, Abigail Lock.” She kisses my forehead and waits beside me until my dreams consume me again.

I beg internally that the same one won’t enter, but my luck is running out lately.

Aged 10

“Up you get kid, today is the day.” I shoot up in my bed; my dad is at the end tapping my feet.

“The day for what pups?” I ask him, wiping my sleepy eyes. It is Saturday, school has finished for the weekend and I want to sleep, not be out spending time with my dad. Outside playing footie? Yes please. Outside bonding with dad? Not so much.

“The day you become a man, Leighton. Now get your arse up and showered. I’ll see you in the kitchen in twenty minutes. Double time kid, now.” He shouts a little and I bolt from under my covers. I know better than to cross my dad, his hand isn’t exactly gentle when I disobey him.

Brandon and Georgia never get the belt or hand, I take it for them. They are far too young to handle it. I always take the blame and let them carry on with their lives.

The day I become a man? Hmmm, what that meant I don’t know exactly, but I rush getting myself washed and dressed nevertheless.

“Good lad. Now eat something so we can leave,” he commands me as I skid to a halt in the kitchen.

“Yes dad,” I answer as I stretch to my full height to reach the Weetabix from the top cupboard. I cover two of them with milk and scoff them down as quickly as I can.

“You ready Leighton?” he asks me in that stern voice he always uses with me.

“Yup
,
.
” I reply, rinsing my bowl off and placing it in the sink.

“Get your shoes on kid, now. We need to leave in one minute.” Will his nagging ever cease or will I have to succumb to his every command for the rest of my life?

I roll my eyes as I sit on the bottom step and pull my Timberlands on. I am a lucky kid, I live in a huge house; we have fifteen bedrooms here. My parents never fail to provide me with the best.

“NOW LEIGHTON! Give mum a kiss and get in the car,” he shouts at me and I jump. I run into the lounge and kiss my mum's cheek. She is a lovely woman, so caring and kind and often getting in the way when my father takes his belt to me. I need to protect her and I know one day she’ll need my strength against the beast my father sometimes becomes.

“By Mamma,” I say as I kiss her cheek.

“Be a good boy Leighton and don’t let your father bully you into anything,” she advises me and I smile as I run from the room.

“Car,” my father speaks again and I bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping back at his bossiness.

“Where are we going dad?” I ask as I clip my belt into the holder. The weather is beautiful out today, so I wind the window down to hang my head in the bright rays of the sun.

“You’re not a dog son, get your fucking head in the car.” Oh god, here we go again. Why can’t I just act like a child for one in my life?

“Sorry,” I reply, lowering my head to my lap.

“We’re going to the range. You’re learning to shoot.” I gasp at him. I am ten, why do I need to learn to shoot? My dad isn’t into hunting and that is the only way you can really have a gun in England.

“How? You’re not allowed a gun in England dad,” I tell him and he responds with a venomous look in his eyes. It’s a look I’ve seen more than once so I know where my place needs to be.

“That’s none of your concern boy, you do as I say, and right now you will be learning to shoot. So shut your mouth and do as you’re told. Understand?” I nod back, scared.

“Good,” he says, looking forward once more to focus on the country lanes as they swallow our car's tyres up. “You really should quit with this attitude Leighton, your mother might let you get away with it but I won’t.” I cower a little as I fear what would happen today whilst we are alone.

“Sorry, I won’t be rude anymore dad.” I draw back from him. I sit thinking of all the times I have stropped or been rude and I can count them on one hand, most of the time it is my siblings and I take the brunt for them, because it isn’t fare for them to be hit or shouted at, they are just children.

I am a good boy; I always do my homework, always do my chores and keep my sister and brother safe too. I sometimes wish mamma knew how bad dad is sometimes, the times she isn’t around to help or stop it.

“You better kid, because I’ve had enough of your ungrateful behaviour. In a few years you will be joining me at work, learning what I do and you will enjoy doing it. There is no other option in this Leighton, you will become me whether you like it or not.” There is no way I will ever treat my children the way he does me.

“Yes dad.” I answer robotically, like it is programmed in me to answer that way, to agree with what he tells me.

“We’re here.” He slams to a stop, his tyres slipping on the mushy, waterlogged leaves in the country. It is beautiful today but we have had horrible rain for the past two weeks so it is like a bog.

I open the door to my dad’s car and shift and wiggle myself from the seat. “Here, now!” he commands me from the boot where he stands. I close the car door and run around to where he is. “This is what you will learn to use Leighton. By the end of today I want you to be able to load and shoot the fucking thing or so help me god. So you better try hard.” He picks up a small gun from a lockable foam lined case and shoves it into my hands.

My eyes bulge in my head at the metal thing. It is heavy, almost weighing my tiny hands down. “It’s heavy dad, how am I supposed to use it?” I duck as his hand clips the side of my head.

“You try, try very bloody hard Leighton. I was shooting at your age, so will you. You think your granddad let me go out without a gun on me? There are dangerous people out there kid and you need to stay protected.” In my head I don’t believe that is the reason at all, he never cared about my welfare and safety, the man beat me on a weekly basis, so he doesn’t give a damn whether I am ok or not. I want to know what the real reason is, what his job is, the one that I am supposedly doing when I am older. I love the way my life has been planned out for me.

Not.

“Come.” He pulls me along behind him, the gun struggling to stay in my hold, the grip thick enough to need both my hands to hold it still. “Don’t drop that, it’s loaded,” he warns me and my heart speeds up like I have been running track at school for the last two hours.

He pushes the doors to an old barn in the middle of a field. The dust hits me and makes me choke. “Now, lift the gun up and look down the barrel. You’ll see the little stick at the end; you want that to make a lollipop with the target. Aim for the target on the wall over there,” he tells me helping me lift the gun up. “This is a glock son, so the safety is this trigger here; you push your hand against it as you pull the trigger. There will be a kick so prepare yourself for it.” I don’t want to do this. It is scaring me, the thought of even holding the deadly weapon. I am supposed to be playing football not shooting things.