Page 63 of Losing Control
As I open the front door and walk out, I let out a cry of relief.
He let me walk away.
I showed him that I don’t need him.
I can allow myself to breathe again.
Although I am feeling a weight being lifted from my shoulders, my heart still drops lower in my chest. That’s how much he has messed with my emotions.
Michael is done fighting for me, and I’m done fighting for him.
I need to be strong and I need to realise that this is the beginning of the end.
Chapter Forty-Five
Blurred reality
I knock on the door in front of me and wait.
Seconds tick by as I stand there, with just my handbag. I didn’t pack any of my stuff, I just wanted to get the hell away from Michael. I hear laughter from behind the front door and I realise that I am probably intruding. I turn away and walk down the path, opening the front gate and closing it behind me. I look left and right, the street completely deserted as I contemplate my next move.
I have no idea where to go. Kim’s would be the obvious choice, but I can’t deal with all of her questions right now. She would bombard me, and all I really need is somewhere to lay my head and process what has happened.
As I am about to head right and walk into town, I feel a hand on my shoulder. The scream that comes out of my mouth is piercing. I drop my handbag and it lands with a thud on the floor. I crouch down, cowering. My whole body shakes as my brain tells me that Michael has followed me. He’s come here to finish what he started back at the apartment.
My hands are over my ears, my eyes are closed, and I start to rock on my heels, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.
I mentally prepare myself for the fist that is surely coming my way.
“Lucy.”
“No,” I whisper as tears stream from my eyes. I thought that he had let me walk away. I thought that he had realised that he had gone too far.
“Lucy.” The deep voice is insistent, urgent.
A hand is placed on my back, lightly and far too gently for it to be Michael.
I stop rocking and open my eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
It takes me a few more seconds to register that it is Cal speaking to me, not Michael. I look at his face as he crouches beside me and I can see the worry in his eyes. “It’s just me, Luce.”
“Cal,” I say on a breath.
“Yeah, babe, it’s me.”
“Cal,” I repeat as I suddenly move and wrap my arms around his neck. He doesn’t pry me off of him as my tears dampen his shirt. He manoeuvres us so that we are both standing before wrapping his arms around me and holding me close to him.
His closeness is such a comfort after months of feeling on edge. I have missed him so much. Our bond is special, and I worry that Michael has broken what we once had.
Cal doesn’t rush me as my body racks with sobs. I guess I am crying for a multitude of reasons. Hurt, anger, stupidity, disappointment, relief, the list could go on.
“I’ve got you,” Cal says as he loosens his grip and picks me up so that I am cradled in his arms. He doesn’t turn me away, but instead picks my handbag up off of the floor and carries me up the path and into his house. I feel him kick the door shut behind us.
“Everything okay, Cal?” a deep voice booms to my left. My fingers curl into Cal’s shirt at the sound of another man’s voice.
“I’ll just be upstairs in my room,” Cal replies, holding me just a little bit tighter.
