14How low can you go?
They looked tall to me, but then doesn't everyone look tall to a three year old?
He was well built, not overly muscley, but he appeared to be strong. He let his dark hair overgrow slightly, giving him a wild, slightly menacing look, until he smiled.
She was shorter than him, with long curly hair and moderately tanned skin. In most of the few memories I had of her she was smiling. In the memory that arose as I followed Josh to lunch, she wasn't smiling.
She was scared.
11 years previously
"Where've you been?" He snarled.
She backed away, leading her irate husband away from the room in which their daughter was sleeping.
He was a shady character to say the least. Before she'd married him she hadn't known much about his past, except that he had a young son. After their marriage she'd found out about some of his dodgy dealings and more about the nastier side of his character. Usually he was okay, most of the time he was fine, nice, a good father. Just sometimes, more recently, when he'd had too much to drink, he wasn't someone that she wanted to be with. His temper got the better of him quickly, he was taller, stronger than her – she was, quite naturally, scared when he got like this.
"Work, James."
"You should've been back hours ago."
He was wrong. She'd got back on time. The fact that he either couldn't read his own watch, or couldn't remember what time she got back from work everyday gave her an idea of how drunk he must be.
"No. It's only seven o'clock."
She didn't raise her voice, didn't do anything that might provoke James' drunken temper.
James swaggered towards her, finally coming to a halt only inches away from her. His beer-ridden breath polluted her airspace. He leaned toward her and lowered his mouth to her ear.
"Liar."
A single whispered word of drunken madness. Catherine wanted to stop any argument that was coming. She was tired and wanted a nice hot bath and an early night; she didn't want another argument. She didn't want to wake up the children and she didn't want to be on the receiving end of James' temper.
"James, I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
As Catherine went to walk past James he grabbed her arm and spun her back round to face him.
She faltered. He'd been angry before, they'd had arguments before, but he'd never hurt her physically.
"James, you're hurting me."
"Shut up." He growled.
"James?" Her voice shook, and the arm that he held so tightly shook too.
"I said, SHUT UP!" As the last words were uttered, James curled up fist connected with the side of Catherine's head. She felt the massive impact of the forceful blow, the splitting of her skin and the blood as it started to run down her face. The world blurred, just as a new voice entered the equation.
"Mummy, I can't sleep."
Catherine's eyes darted to the little girl who stood shivering in her nightdress, sucking her thumb and staring wide-eyed at the fresh wound that adorned her mother's face.
The young girl also caught James' attention. He dropped her mother's arm and swaggered towards her.
Catherine was instantly scared.
"Don't James."
Her voice sounded weak, and in reality she knew that she couldn't protect her little girl; if James wanted to hurt her, he would. She prayed that this drunken flash of anger would finish before anything else happened.
He looked back, stumbling slightly as he did so.
"Don't what?"
"Don't – don't hurt her."
The young girl prised her thumb out of her mouth.
"Are you okay mummy?"
Her father looked down at her and smiled. She was young, innocent. He could see her confusion at the situation and the tears that were welling up, ready to tumble down her face.
"Let's get you back to bed."
He gently lifted her up and carried her back to her room.
I didn't really understand at the time. I realise now that he was drunk, that he'd hit my mum. I don't know how far his violence would've gone if I hadn't woken up. When I spoke he move away from her and over to me, picked me up, carried me back to bed and sang me to sleep. A drunken song, but I was too young and sleepy at the time to care.
Now I needed to know, I cared.
I knew that my mum had left him soon after that particular memory. His violence had got worse and she knew that we weren't safe there anymore. She knew that he'd come looking; she knew that he'd find us, that's why she gave me up for adoption - to protect me from him.
A drunken rage or revenge rage, hired hit man or himself and a fake alibi – I needed to know how far he'd taken things.
I spoke before I'd even sat down at the table.
"Did you kill her?"
Jack's point of view
If Ari had been kidnapped we had to hope that she was still in the country. As I'd informed the police promptly of her disappearance, it was highly unlikely that she could've been taken out of the country within the time before they put out checks on her identity at the airports, ferry ports and Chunnel. It was still possible though. That's all I kept thinking about. What if they didn't find her? There seemed to be no point in thinking positively; expect the worst, and then anything better is a pleasant surprise.
A/N: Sorry it took so long! I was busy with band stuff, GCSEs and writing fanfictions (two are still in progress!). The next update shouldn't take as long as this one did. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Please find it in your heart to spare a couple of seconds of your time to review this chapter and I might feel inclined to update more quickly!
Tanya*