Page 12 of Falling For Liam
My feet are like lead weights as I drag my weary body up the dingy stairwell towards our flat. The sole light that still works flickers above my head as the unwelcome familiar smell of piss and old cigarette smoke fills my nose.Welcome home, I think with a sad laugh.
I realised once I was on the road that I’d probably made a mistake leaving like that. But what else was I meant to do? Wake up this morning and pretend that everything’s fine? Or worse—tell the truth. Tell them everything I’m desperately trying to keep hidden. Just spill out all the ugliness that is my life. If I did that, they would never allow me out of their sight again, let alone return to this hellhole. But as shit as my life is here, it’s where I need to be. I have people relying on me, people I need to try to protect.
I’m lost in my thoughts, and I’m on autopilot as I push the key in the lock and give the door a hard shove to get it to open. Ever since it was almost ripped from its hinges, it’s not all that happy about functioning as it should.
The flat’s in darkness as I step into the hallway and toe off my shoes. Expecting David to be sleeping, or passed out, I’m not prepared for the loud crash and deep growl to filter through from the living room. My stomach knots and my hands begin to tremble as my fear takes over. I hadn’t even considered that he’d be here. I feel so stupid for not expecting it.
A garbled cry vibrates off the walls before I hear the recognisable sound of skin connecting with skin.
They’ve no idea I’m here. I could turn and run. I could go back to where I came from, and they’d be none the wiser.
“No, please,” David begs, and the defeat in his voice has me jumping into action. He’s the reason I can’t just walk out.
He must hear me coming because the second I step into the doorway, his head turns, and his haunted eyes land on me.
“Oh, here she is,” he spits. “Your little bitch has come to your rescue. Or maybe she wants to play, too.” His gaze drops from my eyes in favour of running over my body. I swallow down the bile that threatens to rise up my throat at being objectified.
Tearing my eyes away from the monster stood in front of me, I look down to my boyfriend as he splutters, trying to drag in as much oxygen as possible with his brother’s dirty, calloused hand wrapped around his neck. His eye is already swelling and fresh blood is dripping from his split lip. Anger ignites within me that this pathetic excuse for a man has ruined what was my boyfriend. David’s so scared of him, the man who’s meant to be his older brother, that he’s totally lost himself. He’s drowning, and I’m fighting to keep him above water the best I can, but I feel I’m losing the battle a little more every time he comes crashing into our lives.
“Let him go, Griff.” My voice is steady and strong, the exact opposite of how I feel right now with his bloodshot eyes staring daggers at me. They’re exactly like in my nightmares. His greasy, long hair hangs limply around his sullen face; he looks like hell.
“Not until he gives me what he owes me.”
“I…don’t ha…”
“You keep saying that, you little rat,” he spits down at David.
“How much?” I ask. I usually refuse any demands for money, but I’m too exhausted right now to fight. If he turns on me, I’m fucked.
Griff stares down at David, who’s starting to turn blue, with hatred pouring from his eyes.
“Hundred,” he manages to force out. “For now.”
Reaching for my purse, I pull out some notes I withdrew to put towards this month’s rent. That fucker knew we’d have money here.
“Here.” My voice trembles, and when he turns to look at me, a cold sweat breaks across my skin. If I never look into those evil eyes again, it wouldn’t be too soon.
“Good girl,” he slurs when he spots the wad of cash between my fingers.
He releases David after giving him one last shove, and he collapses onto his side on the sofa, gasping for breath. Griff turns on me.
Adrenaline races through me, and my muscles twitch with the need to escape. I swallow it down and prepare to go toe to toe with the man of my nightmares.
He comes to a stop in front of me and stares down, caging me in between his six foot two height and the wall at my back.
“That was easier than I was hoping for.” He lifts his arm and I flinch when his cold fingertips touch my cheek. He runs them down until he gets to the faint bruise he left on my collarbone and presses into it. Stepping forward, his shallow breaths fan my face, my stomach turning over as he presses the entire length of his body against me. The smell of whiskey mixes with stale cigarettes and what I can only assume is week-old sweat. I can feel how much my fear turns him on, and I’m desperate to react, but I know it’s futile; he’d only get off on it more.
“Until next time, sweetheart. You know I like to keep you waiting.” His fingers thread into my hair and he tugs. The sting shoots down my spine but I don’t react. He doesn’t need to know he’s getting to me. “Anticipation iseverything,” he drawls, running his nose softly along my jaw and breathing me in before releasing me, turning on his heel and marching from the flat.
Sagging back against the wall, I allow myself to just breathe for a few seconds. When I eventually look up from our faded carpet, I find my boyfriend cowering in the corner of the sofa, his eyes wide. Fear, apology and defeat pour from them.
None of it means anything.
Tearing my gaze from his, I square my shoulders and walk into our bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind me. It’s only once I’m alone that I allow everything to rush out of me. Sliding my back down the door, I come to a rest on my bum and wrap my arms around my knees as tears stream down my face and tremors of fear continue to shake my body.
* * *
“David, we’re meant to be meeting your parents in an hour. You need to get yourself together.” After collecting the bottles and cans littered around the living room, I take them all to the kitchen and deposit them with the others waiting to go down to the recycling.
