Page 68 of Finding Forgiveness
My mother had found the pregnancy test in my room, and although she’s always been vicious with her words, it was the first time she’d ever physically struck me. For hours I had to listen to her ranting and raving about what a terrible person I was … a letdown and an embarrassment to my family.
The next morning, she was different, nicer, caring even. She was lulling me into a false sense of security, and I fell for it. She took my phone away and told me I needed to stay home from school and rest. She gave me a vitamin … she said it was to help the baby, and again I believed her. The following afternoon she got me to take another one.
I think you can guess by now that the pills weren’t vitamins. Within an hour of taking the second pill, my life as I knew it started to unravel. I laid on the bathroom floor for hours, Con, calling out for help, soaked in my own blood, but she ignored me. By the time she finally came, it was too late. Our baby was gone.
When I asked her what had she done, she told me she’d taken care of it, and that I was welcome. Can you believe a human being could be so cold? I never would’ve suspected she’d stoop as low as killing her unborn grandchild, but that’s exactly what she did.
Two days later she sent me back to school, but I was under strict instructions to have no contact with you. She called you a predator and threatened to have you charged, which you and I both know would’ve ruined your career before it even started.
I pleaded with her, and told her I was at the age of consent before we had sex, but it didn’t matter. She said she had ways of proving otherwise. I couldn’t let her do that to you, so I did as she asked, and kept quiet.
I drop the letter to the floor and stand abruptly. I’ve read enough. I take a few deep breaths as I dig the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. The rage I’m feeling is like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
A million fucked-up scenarios run through my head, because Iwillavenge my child, but first things first.
My feet are moving before it even registers.
“Where are you going?” Jacinta asks as I stalk towards the front door.
“Mudgee.”
It’s close to midnight by the time I arrive at my destination. Jacinta managed to stop me at the door, trying to talk me into making a plan first instead of running off half-cocked. The truth was she was worried about my intentions for going after Cassie, but she had no reason to be.
Once I explained why I needed to see her, she was on board. We lost an hour looking into flights—which would be fifty minutes, as opposed to almost four hours by car—we even tried to book a helicopter, but neither were available until morning. I couldn’t wait that long, so I got in my vehicle and hit the road.
Knowing it would be late when I arrived, I had planned on renting a room for the night, but I was too antsy to sleep. So instead, I programmed in the address from Jacinta’s tracker and headed straight here. I’m now parked outside the property, and all I can do now is wait for the sun to rise.
I’m jolted from my sleep by a loud banging sound. I’m somehow slumped over the steering wheel, and my sudden movement sounds the horn, which manages to startle me further. I turn to look out the side window and immediately shield my eyes from the blinding light that’s shining in from the outside.
“Get out of the car,” the stern voice says. I wind down my window in my sleepy haze, which probably isn’t the wisest move since I’m currently parked in the middle of nowhere. It’s only then I see the barrel of a gun pointing at my face. “I said get out of the car.” I hold my hands up in front of me. “Now, or I’ll blow that pretty little head of yours right off those … big broad shoulders.”
The gruffness of her initial words have now turned somewhat seductive. It leaves me a little perplexed; am I getting robbed, hit on, or both?
I leave one hand in the air, using the other to reach for the door handle as I reluctantly exit the vehicle. “Why are you parked outside my property?” the woman asks.
“You’re property?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“Martha?”
“How do you know my name?” she sneers, poking the barrel of the gun into my chest. “Who are you?”
“My name is Connor … Connor Maloney. I’m looking for Cassandra, I believe she’s staying with you.”
“Hmm,” she hums, running the torch down the length of my body and pausing a fraction too long around the crotch area for my liking. “I’d like to see some ID.”
“Okay.” I lower one of my arms and slip my hand into the back pocket of my trousers to remove my wallet. I flick it open and the torch is lowered in that direction. Only then does she drop the gun and take a step back. My eyes remain fixed on her as she turns and shuffles around the front of the vehicle towards the passenger side. “You can drive me back up to the house, it’s a bit of a hike from here, and I’ve been on my feet all day.” I stand there stunned when she opens the door and lowers herself inside. “Come on, young man, I don’t have all night.”
Against my better judgment, I get back in the car. The interior light is still on, so I use this time to take in the woman sitting beside me. She’s a lot older than I surmised. The tips of her grey hair are dyed hot pink. There are two neat rows of rollers along the top and glasses sitting low on her nose. There’s a fluffy, leopard-print dressing gown wrapped around her short, stubby body, and long, bright-red gumboots on her feet. The shotgun that was just trained on me is now resting between her slightly parted legs.
“Is that thing loaded?” I ask, pointing towards the gun.
“Pfft,” she huffs. “What do you think?”
“Do you even know how to use it?”
She curls her hand around the barrel and lays it across her lap. “Would you like me to show you? I once shot a moving wild boar right between the eyes from fifty metres away.” I stare at her, and the serious look on her face tells me that’s exactly what happened. “Are we going to sit here all night? I’m not getting any younger,” she grumbles.
