Page 62 of Savage

He then paused, and turned onto his back, breaking eye contact. “Anyway. We should get some sleep. I need to be up early and get the tyres sorted.” Jaxon said wearily, turning his head to the side, his eyes tangling with mine.

We stared at each other for a moment longer and I didn't want to be the first to look away. I would allow myself to go blind before I blinked. After a few more beats, I caved and settled back. He was right after all and my eyes were starting to feel gritty. "OK. Goodnight then, roomy," I whispered with a smile.

He returned it and I felt warmth bloom in my chest. "Whatever, night."

The sense of satisfaction I felt after our brief yet interesting discussion was unmatched. I was sickening pleased with myself and I closed my eyes with a grin on my face, wrapped up in Jaxon’s shirt. I felt safe and warm. That was however about to change.

The last thing I remembered was Jaxon’s scent tantalising my senses as my eyelids fluttered closed and sleep overcame me. The faint sounds of distant traffic outside and Jaxon's breathing were the last things I heard.

It was at that point that the black hole in my mind opened and an explosion of repressed memories of my past, camethunderingback.

The Dream

The darkness opened and Jaxon was there. He was walking slowly towards me and my heart flipped in my chest. As he came close, I could see that he was smiling. He looked down into my eyes, the expression on his face making me feel like the most precious thing he had ever seen.

“I love you,” he mouthed, stroking one finger gently down my cheek and my spirits soared.

Unfortunately, my happiness at that moment was short-lived as his image was suddenly swallowed by a thick grey mist. An acrid smell bled into my nostrils and my stomach somersaulted.

Spinning around, I could hear my mother shouting my name and I raised my arms, moving, blind through the space, but I couldn’t find her and anxiety pumped through my chest. I stopped, straining to see. There was nothing, where was she?

“Mom,” I shouted into the blank space.

At my words, the fog lifted and I was standing in a bedroom; a child’s room considering the youthful décor.

It was a small space and colourful with pink walls, white woodwork and a dusky grey carpet that felt thick beneath my bare feet. The teddy-strewn bedspread was patchwork and on the bedside table, there was an old-style alarm clock and a lava lamp. A white-painted door was positioned at the opposite side of where the bed sat. It was a slatted door but you couldn’t see between the cracks. I imagined it would be a cupboard or a wardrobe of types. There was also a small writing table in the other corner of the room which was covered with coloured pencils. It looked like it had recently been abandoned. Maybe the child had been called down for supper and was in a hurry?

Shuffling across from where I was standing beside another door, I focused on the collection of paintings which were pinned to a corkboard above the desk. I felt a stirring of familiarity. I recognised those paintings. They were of different things, one was of a mother and her child, another a zebra and one of a teddy bear; all created by a child’s hand, the splodgy design suggesting the owner of the paintings would probably be under ten years of age. I searched my memory banks, wondering where I had seen those pictures before.

As my eyes scanned the area, prickles of awareness ran across my skin. A split second later, my heart thumped in my chest as I heard a loud bang and the whole room shook! It came from another part of the house and raised voices then followed in its wake. A muffled voice was shouting something, but I couldn’t hear what was being said through the wood of the closed bedroom door. Part of me wanted to go and investigate but I found myself tied to that room; like I needed to stay there.

Dragging my eyes back to the table, my attention was drawn towards a crumpled piece of paper. It sat in amongst the pencils and crayons that were scattered haphazardly across the surface. Suddenly, my breathing became restricted and I tried to swallow that lump that had appeared in my throat.

Without even moving from my position, the crumpled piece of paper appeared in my hand. That was odd, I didn’t even remember reaching for it. I stared down as it sat in my palm, a myriad of emotions rushing through me like a Tsunami. Something was off.

With shaking fingers, I carefully opened the clump of paper which had been purposefully scrunched into the smallest of balls. As if the person who had done that wanted to obliterate it from existence.

Using the tabletop, I smoothed it out, pushing against the edges so that I could see what the paper contained. It was another picture, possibly created by the same child, it had to be, the general appearance matched perfectly.

The discarded picture was created with crayons. A child’s image of her family; mum, dad, and a little girl, all holding hands outside what appeared to be a house and one that I strangely remembered. It was a stunning property, large and built from stone with climbing red roses all around the front door. My mother’s favourite flower.

A sound escaped through the cracks of the slatted door, which I now recognised as a walk-in cupboard. It also stored other items, like scared children and secrets and I knew I wasn’t alone. I forced myself not to shudder. Someone was hiding there.

My eyes darted back to the picture and I realised that the happy family didn’t appear happy anymore; the face of the father was scribbled out so hard that the paper had torn there. A man without a face, and at that moment, I knew exactly who he was. A chill crept up my spine and my feet were rooted to the spot, my body rigid with tension.

I then heard the loud smash of something breaking and the echo of a woman crying; a woman I now recognised as my mother. I closed my eyes, wanting to blink away what I was about to see. Powerful emotions rushed through me like a hurricane.

When I opened them, I was staring at the slatted door of the cupboard from the inside; light suddenly appeared under the door.

Petrified, I clutched Ronnie Hek, my favourite bear to my chest as I heard the bedroom door, my old bedroom door crashing open as both my parents came in. My father was yelling at my sobbing mother. The sound of her crying caused my throat to clench like someone had their hands wrapped around it and was squeezing the life out of me. I couldn’t breathe and I felt like I was going to vomit. I needed to get a grip, I was an adult now, not a weak and frightened child.

Mom was screaming at him to leave me alone. “You can’t take her. She stays with me!”

I jammed my hands over my ears, praying for it to be over. Torn between hiding and calling for my mother.

The door to my hiding place was then yanked open and my father was there; at least I thought he was my father; he didn’t look at all like his usual self. His face was bright red, the veins in his neck standing out and his clothes were messy. He had crazy eyes as he glared down at me.

“She needs to learn how useless her mother is,” he snarled as he made a move to grab me. I shuffled backwards, fear clawing through my chest.

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