What Once I Was

Chapter 20 - Robert

"Good evening Mr Collins, I'm Officer Ben Davies. The woman over there is my colleague, Officer Dawn Evans. The receptionist said you had some evidence pertaining to your daughter's disappearance. Is this correct?"

I stare at the officer before me, my mouth dry as the reality of what I'm about to do, the consequences of my soon to be actions, starts to sink in. I can do nothing but nod. He pulls his chair closer, the scraping of metal on the concrete floor shooting pain through my teeth.

"Can we get you something to drink? Tea? Water?"

"Jus-just water. Please."

He motions towards the other officer in the room, who left with no hesitation. We waited in uncomfortable silence until her return. The cool water soothed my coarse throat, gave some settlement to the twisted knots in my stomach. I can't believe I'm about to do this. The lid of the bottle tumbles to the floor. I struggle to retrieve it with my shuddering hands.

"Take your time, Mr Collins. We're not here to judge you. We just want to help your daughter."

I nod, grateful for the sentiment. My leg bucks beneath the table despite my hand firmly gripping it in a failing attempt to calm the nerves. She would kill me if she knew where I was. If she knew what I was about to do. Stop it Rob. You can't think like this. Naomi deserves justice.

I push a green notebook across the table, thankful to have its contents far away from my skin. I fear the longer I had kept it, the more it would have tainted my flesh and mind. Grunting, I heave a large binder folder and slide that too across the table. Ben says nothing as he pulls them close, flicking through the pages. His brows pull together, hand rubbing his jaw as he takes in each word.

"And you say this is your wife's, am I correct?"

"Yes sir. I didn't know she kept one. Can you use it to find my daughter?"

He scratches his neck.

"This is all awful stuff," he says while turning page after page in the folder. "You suffered some serious injuries. Why didn't you report this abuse?"

I huffed, my face in my hands.

"Who would have believed me? I'm six two, a giant compared to my wife. No-one took me seriously."

He nods empathetically. Not a single soul has reacted in such a way upon finding out how horrific my life had been behind closed doors. Not one person had ever cared. They had taken one look at the tiny woman in the room with me and believed every deceitful word she'd uttered. I'd been completely and utterly alone.

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do, Mr Collins. We need you to tell us everything you know. Then I promise you, one way or another, we will bring your wife in," he must have smelt the fear on me, noticed the way I fidgeted more and shrunk in on myself, "Don't worry. We won't let her hurt you ever again. You have my word."

I nod, the shame I would normally feel at crying becoming a distant memory. This is it. I'm going to be free.

———-—- 

Wendy had been in a foul mood for weeks. I wasn't sure what had happened, but I knew it had to have been something serious. Her anger towards me had escalated in ways that had made me fearful for my life.

The day before our thirtieth wedding anniversary, she'd been screaming and shouting at me from our bedroom. As always, I kept out of her way, counting and praying for her mood to pass. I busied myself with a cooked breakfast, hoping to cool her temper quicker with her favourite food. Oil spat from the pan, leaving blisters alongside those almost fully healed from the last time I'd stepped out of line when Wendy had been fuelled with rage. I barely winced. My body had adjusted somewhat to pain, or perhaps it was my mind that had become numb. I wasn't sure which.]The eggs had cooked just how Wendy liked them when the phone rang. I raced to silence the shrill ring, praying with each step that I would get there before she heard, before she screamed and threw whatever her hands landed on. I could hear her footsteps getting louder. With my heart in my throat, my hands finally wrapped around the receiver, ending the noise in an instant. Thank God. Her footsteps halted above me, silence filling the house.