As I reach the house, I see him ascending the garden. I shout after him. He turns and marches over, grabbing me and dragging me over to the garage. His hand covering my mouth, he slams me against the back of it. Hidden away from the house and the busy Glenshane Road. I can feel the pebble-dashed wall scraping my back through my t-shirt. I see his eyes, wide and frantic looking, jolting between both of my own. The small slits of moonlight breaking through from the surrounding trees. I’m genuinely scared. More scared than I’ve ever been. Who knows what he’s capable of? Right here, right now, I’m completely at his mercy.
“You tell no one about tonight? You hear me? Go back up, get your car, bring it down and get to bed. You didn’t see anyone and no one saw you. We’ll be surprised to see you in the morning. As far as you know, I made it back from the charity night and went straight to bed. You’ll do as you’re told if you know what’s good for you. Do you hear me? Not a word about this, to anyone.”
“Da, what the fuck have you done?”
“Do as you’re fucking told!”
He brings me away from the wall, just to smash me back onto it again seconds later. I cry out in pain, my feet stretching to meet the ground centimetres below me and my arms flying around either side of me. Trying to push myself away. Push him away. Or find something to help me. He starts going off into another rant, talking about how I don’t know what’s good for me, before my arm catches the side of something. Inching my head to the right, I see discarded items from the garage resting against the wall. A battered washing machine, a punctured bike and an old barbeque, with a half empty toolbox rested on it.
Seeing the hammer inside, I make a split-second decision. Just wanting him off me, scared for my safety, and my family’s. I reach for it and swing it at his head. Looking to deflect him. Make him back off. Leave me alone. To finally tell me what’s going on. But as I hear the sound the hammer makes when it connects with his skull, and as I fall to the ground with a thump, I look over at him lying sprawled out on the grass, and know there’s no chance of him telling me anything ever again.
Chapter Eighty-Two:
She can’t believe what she’s hearing. She sits on the toilet with her arms around her head, as if that will stop the voices coming in from the tiny open window behind her from penetrating her skull. Stop her son’s words from pouring in and over her. She had come to the downstairs toilet to finally calm herself down from her full-blown fury earlier. She’d sat, urging her beating heart to slow down, and that’s when she had heard her two eldest in the garden, mere metres from her. And what her son had said has broken her heart. She knew that Aaron and Ritchie always had problems, she won’t deny that. But she guesses that she just chose to ignore them. It wasn’t Ritchie’s fault. And it wasn’t her fault. It was Aaron’s jealousy. His controlling nature. She saw the way Aaron looked at Ritchie sometimes, but she never for a second thought that he would be violent towards him. Treat him any different from his girls.
They were married for two years the first time Billy Taylor entered her office. He seemed to take a shine to her, she won’t deny Aaron’s jealousy that, but she was only doing her job. Her stomach clenched as he requested all these leaflets and pamphlets with the Ulster Jack’s slogan and logo on them. Especially when he found out her name was Nuala, that was a sure-fire giveaway that she was a catholic. But it didn’t deter him from continuing to ask for everything he could think of plastered in the red, white and blue of the Union Jack. However, she stayed the professional and ordered him what he needed. And after finding out who he was, climbing the political ladder within the Jacks, she wasn’t surprised to see what he had been ordering.
What did surprise her, however, was his insistency to speak with her directly every time he wanted to order more. Even calling back or returning to the office for her if he ever showed up on her days off. It was like he was obsessed, and the wedding ring she consistently tried to subtly show him at every given opportunity didn’t seem to bother him. If anything, it made him more determined.
It wasn’t long before Aaron became jealous. He was always like that growing up. When they started to go to night clubs and other boys would grab her ass or offer to buy her a drink. It would always end in fist fights and tears. But since they got engaged, he’d wised up considerably. Apart from a slight hiccup on their wedding day when his cousin got too drunk and kissed her on the cheek, he seemed to have settled down.
He pulled a strop when she told him, more to inform him of the politician’s distasteful attitude, and stated she wasn’t to see him again. She laughed, reiterating to him that she was just doing her job, but he wasn’t having any of it. Things got worse, however. Taylor started showing up on their date nights, parking himself in front of Aaron, giving him a great view of his arse as he openly flirted with Nuala, who remained polite, but didn’t offer anything more than one-word answers. The fights they would have after would be astronomical.
His insecurities got
