Page 29 of For the Love of Layla

“I wasn’t going to take no for an answer, respectfully, of course. After our first date, she told me years later she went home and wrote in her diary that she was going to marry me. She was right. We had no idea how everything would change though.” His features take a dark turn, giving me goosebumps. I know I should mind my own business, but I want to know. “What happened?”

He takes a deep breath, “I’m not surprised Roy never spoke about her. The day she left us… it changed something in him. Not stuff kids should hear about. Maybe when you’re older.”

Disappointment fills my chest. There’s so much I don’t know. About my dad’s life, why he was how he was to me. Why he hated his mom, why that hate led to years of abuse at his hands. I look up from the table when I hear grandpa cross the kitchen staring at me, “What did he do to you?” I can’t help the shaking in my hands or the words that flow to the tip of my tongue.

Nothing. Dad was great. Everything is fine. I slipped. Yes, I’m eating okay. No, our water isn’t shut off. It’s just messed up right now. Yeah, I had a shower this week.

I swallow them all, every last lie I’ve told for my entire life. Since the first taste of his hatred, I’m going to tell the truth and hope it doesn’t bite me on the ass.

“He hated me, I think, and mom. He screamed a lot when he wasn’t too messed up to speak. He only hit me a handful of times, usually just trashed the house.” I nearly whisper the words, hoping they’ll disappear into the air before he can hear them.

Roy Burke is dead and I’m still scared shitless of him.

Grandpa runs a hand down his wrinkled face, “I’m so sorry, Layla.” My heart stops beating as I look up from my chipped polish, you’re sorry? You didn’t do anything. All my best memories are when I was safe with you. That’s what I want to say. I want to say it so badly, but I can’t. My mouth won’t let me, as tears fill my already red eyes.

“I should’ve paid more attention. He was my son. I didn’t want to think I had failed him so grossly. People wear many faces, Layla. If you leave it up to them to show you the difference between them, you’ll always be in the dark.”

The tears break free from my eyes as I throw my arms around him. Hugging him as tightly as I can.

“Mom used to always say that some people were just born bad, that dad was one of those people. No amount of love could change him. Please, don’t be sorry. I’m here now with you. Neither of us has to be alone anymore.” I mumble against his t-shirt that smells like the outdoors and his aftershave. He squeezes me back so tightly I fight the need to groan. “No, we don’t… Let’s get you fed.”

By the time I leave the cemetery, I do so with a renewed sense of purpose. Liam had many faces, which one was he underneath it all? TherealLiam… it’s something I’ve asked myself since the first time he slipped up, let me see the cold harsh side of the beautiful copper haired man. A side my stalker seems to have as well.

It’s got to be Liam.

But why? Why do all of this? Why torment me? He didn’t fight for me when he had the chance. Radio silence for three months and now all of this?

Calm down, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s a theory, nothing more.

I glance at the garment bag hanging in the backseat of my car where it taunts me, daring me to do something so fucking stupid I might be breaking a personal record. Curran Enterprises is hosting their annual charity gala on Sunday. With everything going on and the prospect of seeing Liam has my anxiety nearing nuclear levels. If I’m right, and Liam is the one tormenting me…I’m putting myself directly inside the lion’s den. If I’m wrong, I’m putting Liam in danger, putting myself in danger either way. I’m done sitting around and waiting for the police to do something. I’m tired of waiting for his next assault, the next time I’ve somehow wronged him.

It’s the process of elimination and so far, I only have one suspect. As scary as the idea of Liam, the man I fell for. One I trusted for six months turning on me like this, tormenting me like this is… sickening and it makes my heart flutter in my chest. But as horrifying as that would be, the idea of a stranger…is worse. I pull up to the house and sit in my car, staring at the place that used to feel so safe to me. My quiet place where the anxiety of my day had to stay outside, not that it ever really did. It was my escape from the world when everything felt too ugly. Now he’s taken that from me. I no longer feel safe here. More like a rat caught in a very elaborate trap. My phone vibrates in the cup holder, making my heart do strange things.

Unknown: Pretty dress. Hope you’re not planning anything that might make me regret not painting you red the other night.

Get fucked.

I dig the anxiety medication from my drawer, popping one into my mouth as Peaches and I head out into the back yard. The fact that only one remains in the bottle fills me with even more anxiety, which seems incredibly counterproductive. I had been doing okay without them for a little. By okay, I mean I felt like I was dying over every little thing slightly less. Now I can barely get through the day without one. I know getting more will be a bitch, considering I’ve canceled my last few appointments with my therapist.

Stupid girl.

I just can’t bear the thought of sitting there and explaining everything to someone else. Another person to look at me with skepticism, making me wonder if I’ve truly lost it. It’s unavoidable, eventually I’ll either go to an appointment or have another fucking breakdown and be treated to an involuntary grippy sock retreat. It wasn’t too long after I moved in with grandpa that the weight of my actions came down on me with a vengeance. It just got tooheavy. Of course, I never told anyone what I did, what he wanted me to do for him, but it didn’t stop them from holding me in the treatment center, deeming me a danger to myself. Even with dad being the way he was, I never felt as isolated as I did that month. The October breeze swirls around me as I clench the old throw blanket tightly around myself. I spent the better part of my night and now morning calling in favors and digging around everything that is Liam Chase Curran. Degrees, parking tickets, reading every article and blurb I can get my hands on. I’ve pieced together all of his depressingly impressive adult life, but nothing prepared me for what I found when he was a child. A singular article posted in an old newspaper nobody reads. That’s all it took to make my heart soften for the little boy that he used to be.

I should leave it alone, stop pressing, but even now my phone buzzes with texts fromhim.Reminding me how little choice I have. He’s not going to stop, the police won’t help me and the possibility of the cause of my pain being Liam is…high. As much as the thought sickens me.

I need to know.

I take a deep breath before unlocking my phone screen again. My round, amber-colored eyes staring back at me. Judging me for doing something… invasive. Two wrongs don’t make a right. Having someone unseal an incident report from when my ex was seven years old is definitely not right. Furthermore, calling in a favor that was owed to my old boss, who I got beat up and fired is also not right.

Whoever he is, he isn’t playing fair. So neither will I.

He hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences of his actions or the ripple effect he’s caused. The lives destroyed all for what? Me? Even if he stops today, I’ll never be the same. Peaches pads up the steps laying down beside me. Even now, I can feel his eyes on my skin, crawling over me like spiders burrowing into my flesh.

He’s here. He’s always here.

I should go in, I should lock the doors and call the police. Cry, sob and scream for help, but what good will it do? He cares little for my cries. You wanted to be a journalist, you wanted to expose liars. You have an opportunity to uncover a truth someone hid from you. To possibly understand why they acted the way they did, why they damaged you so deeply.

Do it.

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