What Once I Was

Chapter 12

When Robert finally returned home from work, he stumbled into the bedroom, a bitter aroma of beer trailing behind him, to find my suitcase discarded by the wardrobe, its innards spilling onto the carpet. He glared at me, kicking a creased shirt out of his way.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

There was a frayed piece of fabric clinging to the edge of the duvet; I kept my gaze locked on the sway it made in the slight breeze of our fan. My face was flushed as I brushed my clammy hands across my pyjama bottoms. I hadn't been able to leave, had only made it to the creaky step halfway down before panic bit at my heels, sending me falling up the stairs to the safety of my bedroom.

I'd been in the midst of hanging garments back where they belonged when the front door had slammed shut, shaking the floor beneath my knees. Robert's voice, slurring and loud, had frozen me in place. He was volatile when drunk.

I flinched back from the hand grabbing at my chin.

"I asked you a question, woman?"

Spit sprayed my face and into my mouth. My teeth ached as his grip tightened, a coppery taste invading my tongue. I couldn't answer if I wanted to.

"Sod this shit."

A yelp escaped my throat as my head bounced off the wardrobe's wooden door. I daren't raise a hand to inspect the throbbing lump I knew was blooming. Not with Robert leering down at me. With another clumsy kick at the pile of clothing, Robert left the room, falling over nothing and cursing. I let the breath out I hadn't realised I'd been holding.

Curled into myself, I continued to put away my clothes, never bringing my eyes up from the floor. A small, brown stain - coffee I presumed - next to Robert's side of the bed caught my eye.

I'd best clean that before he sees.

Room finally spotless... I couldn't go any slower without arousing his suspicion... I trudged towards the kitchen in search of carpet stain remover. Bottle after bottle piled around me, my head deep in the cupboard looking for the product needed for the job, I cursed. We had run out. I prayed the stain would go unnoticed until I could get to Tesco's the next morning.

Rover padded away from where Robert snored on the sofa, urine staining his trousers. Another mess of his that I would get the blame for. I added fabric stain remover to the shopping list on the fridge. I decided it was best not to wake him. Far too many memories of similar are occurrences burned into my brain to risk the consequences. Tiptoeing from room to room, I switched off the lights.

A dark figure at the end of our drive halted me. There wasn't enough illumination from street lamps to decipher any physical features to identify the stranger, but their stance, hands behind their back, body straight, unnerved me. My heart hammered, threatening to escape through my throat and run in the opposite direction; my body had other ideas. It paralysed me to the spot, shaking from head to toe.

"Robert!" I said, my voice only a whisper.

He grunted, fidgeted, but did not wake. The figure outside moved, their arms dropping to their side. Something glinted in the moonlight. A knife?

What the hell is that?

We stared at one another, neither of us moving.

"Robert!"

I shouted louder, still to no avail. Logic told me to phone the police, to do something. Fear, however, over road my limbs.

"Robert!"

My scream broke the chains around my ankles. I raced to my husband, shaking him and begging him to wake. I knew he would be furious, that I'd suffer for it, but I didn't care. Someone was outside watching the house.