Page 25 of My Destiny

“Thank you. I live here alone.”

After giving them my details, the dispatcher keeps me on the line until the police arrive. I’m thankful for that.

“They’re pulling up outside your place now.”

“Thank you so much.”

Unlocking the bedroom door, I poke my head into the hallway and scan the surroundings before stepping out. I jump when there’s a loud knock on the front door. “Police.”

“Coming,” I say, rushing to open it.

After explaining the situation, I let one of the officers in while the other searches outside the property. I feel intense relief now that they’re here.

“Do you have any idea who may have done this?” the officer asks as he surveys the damage.

“No, not really. I’ve made no enemies I’m aware of since moving here. Although…” I pause briefly, contemplating whether I should mention Jake.

“Although?” The officer turns to face me. “If you know something, this is the time to tell us.”

“My initial thought was my estranged husband. I haven’t seen him in over eight months, and as far as I’m aware, he has no idea where I’m living.”

“Hmm,” he says, eyeing me. “Is this normal behaviour for him?”

“No, but things didn’t end well for us.” I never reported the assault; I’m not sure why. Maybe I was worried it would affect his career. His job means everything to him, and the way he behaved that day was out of character for him. It was much easier for me to just walk away.

“Are you in the middle of a custody battle or property dispute? Or something that may have recently upset him?”

“No, nothing like that.” I haven’t asked Jake for anything, and I don’t intend to.

“Well, it seems unusual that he’d do something like this then out of the blue. It may have been kids having fun.”

“Throwing bricks through people’s windows is not what I’d call fun,” I say abruptly as I take a seat on my sofa. I slide my hands under my legs in an attempt to stop the tremors. I’m still incredibly shaken by this.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive, Mrs. Johnston.” I give him a tight smile but don’t reply. In my day, the idea of fun was playing knock-and-run on your neighbour’s door, not throwing bricks through people’s windows.

My eyes move towards the small archway when the other office appears. “Whoever it was is long gone,” he says.

I don’t know if that should make me feel relieved or more terrified. What if they come back?

I feel like death warmed up as I climb out of bed, but also a little safer now that the sun has risen. It was close to four by the time I lay back down. After the police took my statement and left, I cleaned up the mess and waited for the twenty-four-hour emergency glass company to come and fix the broken window.

I wasn’t able to fall asleep again, since my mind was going a hundred miles an hour as I tried to make sense of it all. Every noise I heard as I lay there in silence made my heart beat faster. The police said it was possibly a case of mistaken identity, or maybe connected to the previous tenants, which did nothing to ease my mind. I’m now rethinking living here, which sucks. I’ve put so much time and effort into making this my home.

After busying myself with housework, I finally change into my running gear. I’m not even sure if I feel safe enough to leave the house, but a long run should help clear my mind and give me some clarity.

My eyes are everywhere as I step outside and lock the front door. I didn’t bring my iPod today. I can’t afford to get lost in the music; I need to remain aware. If that brick was aimed at me, I’ll need to watch my back from now on.

“Morning,” I say to one of my elderly neighbours who’s out early watering her garden.

“Good morning.” I always greet my neighbours when I see them out and about, but maybe I need to make more of an effort to get to know them on a personal level. Especially after last night.

Breaking into a jog, I head up the hill towards the restaurant where I work. Andy’s partner, Mark, is standing on the sidewalk talking to a police office as I approach. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach.

“Everything okay?” I ask Mark when I’m close enough for him to hear me.

Shaking his head, I can see he’s visibly distressed as he points over his shoulder towards the restaurant. My heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I see the word ‘WHORE’ spray-painted in red across the front of the building.

Surely this isn’t a coincidence. Somebody obviously went on a rampage last night, but the question remains: is any or all of this directed at me?