Page 30 of The Man Upstairs

“Don’t even think about screaming,” he said. “It won’t end well for anyone if you do, you get me?”

I nodded in shock under his hand, unsure of what the hell else to do. He took his hand away, and it took everything I had not to screech the place down. I tried to squirm away, but it didn’t work. He had me tight.

“Still think I’m so fucking weak, do you? You even think of taking photos of me and showing them to the police and I’ll fuck you up bad.”

Yeah, it was true. He knew I’d been serious earlier. Something had changed in me.

And changed in him, too…

I stayed silent, twisted up in fear. His breaths were fierce in my face.

“Your mother won’t back you up if it comes to it, you know that? If you try to cause shit, it’s my side she’ll take, not yours.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said, but he laughed a nasty, quiet laugh.

“Like fuck it is. You’d better tone down the shitty attitude, or you’ll get worse than she does. You understand me?”

There were so many things I wanted to shout and scream, but he was deadly serious. He meant it. His words were more ominous than I’d ever known. This wasn’t the throes of rage where things flared up in horrendous arguments, this was cold, calculated.True.

It gave me shivers.

“Good,” he said. “You’ve got the fucking message.”

I gasped but didn’t move as he pulled away and got back to his feet. He stepped backwards without giving a shit for what I might do to him, knowing I was too terrified to do a thing. For Mum’s sake, as well as mine. He was right. Scottie would weave his sick magic with her, and she’d stand by him. She was too delusional to do anything else.

He didn’t close my door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar. I heard a token flush of the toilet to excuse his bedroom exit, and then I heard the mumble of voices as he got back into their room. Mum would have no idea what was happening here, and if I told her… if she knew what he’d just done…

It would go one way or another, and both of them had terrifying outcomes. We’d be dragged down to hell along with him.

I scrabbled for my phone from under the covers, urges pumping to call the police, but what could I tell them? Scottie would deny it, and he’d make me pay, and make Mum pay, too. I could have called Trisha, but she’d stay out of it when it really mattered. She’d rather play ignorant than get caught up in this mess. Jayden wouldn’t condemn his dad. So it was just me, alone in the terror. The rage and panic turned to hurt and tears, and I felt myself breaking, giving up for once in my life. Finally.

My strength left. Years of trying my best to keep myself together and stay strong fell away, and I was the little girl I’d left behind when I was young. I was nothing but a tiny ball of tears under the bedcovers as I realised just how trapped we were in the wheel of abuse.

I laid there awhile, still hiding, shaking, listening to them, laughing, moaning, grunting. The vile piece of shit was fucking her, using and abusing her and there was fuck all I could do about it. There was no way I’d get back to sleep, and he would be there in the morning, playing happy families with Mum, who’d be oblivious. I worked evening shifts on a Sunday, and Scottie wouldn’t be back at the construction yard until early Monday, so I’d be fucked, unable to avoid him. I got another bout of the shivers, because I couldn’t do it. I’d never be able to keep it together in front of him, not after tonight.

It was three a.m. when I checked the time on my phone. I was on autopilot, shaking as I put the torch app on, not wanting to light up the room with my bedside lamp. I was as quiet as I could be as I opened my rucksack and piled my work clothes in with my shoes. I took each step slowly and silently as I crept out into the hall.Please, God, don’t let him hear me.

I held my breath when I reached the door and slid the bolt open. I turned the handle as softly as I could, pulse thumping as I stepped outside and closed the door gently behind me. The corridor lamp was flickering low as I dashed up the stairs, still in my PJs. I pressed my head against the door to number six before I dared to knock, just a soft tap of my knuckles. I had to take a deep breath before I knocked again, louder.

Please.

I tapped again, a staccato of raps, hoping he would hear me. I figured he’d be in bed and I’d be left out here, alone, but no. I heard footsteps and the latch clicked, and then the door swung open. A haggard Julian, still in his suit.

“I’m sorry,” I said with my rucksack on my shoulder. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

My cheeks must have been blotchy from tears when he let me in and through to the living room. I sat down on his sofa and tossed my bag onto the floor, crumpling over with my elbows on my knees as I tried to compose myself. He was right there beside me, kneeling on the floor, but he didn’t put his hands on me, just waited.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I just… I couldn’t stay there…”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

The tears kept coming, silent as I struggled for breath.

“He, um… no. He didn’t hit me or anything… he just…”

“Did he hurt your mother?”

“No. She’s still loved up, and she doesn’t know.”