Chapter 44: NOW - The Safe Room

I’m cold, dirty and tired. Peter Harlow, the man who tore apart my family and terrorised me for nineteen years, has control over my daughter. The woman I tried to help is also under his control and helped my enemy kidnap me. I’ve never been so alone.

I’ve wondered what my life would’ve been like if I’d never met Peter. I’ve imagined a thousand different scenarios in my head. I’ve plotted out lives for all of my family. Honey married and happy. Mum and Dad playing with our grandchildren. A sun-soaked barbecue in the garden back in Leeds; over-cooked sausages and a paddling pool.

The vinegar scent of my own BO wafts up from my armpits. I’ve never felt so disgusting in my life, which is why what I have planned is the most insane thing I’ve ever contemplated. And I have contemplated many, many strange ways to stop Peter from stalking me.

I’m going to give him what he wants.

I’m not sure I’ll ever know for certain why Peter picked me. I think there’s something wrong with his brain and perhaps there always has been, or perhaps it broke when his father died. Whatever happened, it’s unfixable. Not even the therapy he received in prison seemed to help.

Peter was always going to pick someone to be the object of his fixation. If it hadn’t been me it would’ve been some other young girl. I’m not special, I’m painfully normal, and maybe that’s part of the appeal.

For nineteen years he has watched me from the shadows as I’ve lived my life, and despite everything, I have lived my life. I have known love, and sadness and joy. I have brought a child into the world and said the most painful goodbye. Ed knew me inside and out while Peter could only quietly watch. He has seen nothing of me, really. He’s experienced nothing of me, only one small kiss in his car. Now I’m his animal in a cage and I know what will get him to open the door.

I wait until Peter is on his phone. That’s the telltale sign that he’s checking in on me. Watching me from that camera he planted. Sophie is with Emily, the two of them on the sofa watching a Horrible Histories repeat.

Peter has some warped notion that I will find him acting as a father romantic in some way. If the endgame—for him—is us being a couple, then I need to speed the process up.

Every inch of my body trembles as I angle myself close to the camera and begin peeling away layers of clothing. This needs to seem natural but somehow erotic. I could projectile vomit, but I have to appear as though I’m comfortable with myself.

I’m going to tease him, literally. I want to make him feel like bursting through this door to take me. It’s sick, I hate myself for it, and I would never contemplate this if Sophie wasn’t out there, but this is all I have.

I cast a quick glance over to the screens. Peter brings his phone closer to his face, still watching. I remove my bra and drop it to the ground. On the screen, Peter adjusts his collar.

I hate this. Every ion of my body hates this. But this is what he wants. I don’t know whether he’s managed to catch a glimpse of me naked over the years, and it’s something I’ve purposefully tried not to think about, but my suspicion is that he hasn’t seen me naked. Now I’m so close. I’m just down in the cellar if he wants to touch me, he just has to open that door.

My fingers tremble as I drop my jeans and underwear to the floor, stepping out of them as elegantly as I can. Then I move over to the sink and start to wash myself, trying not to flinch at the freezing cold water. I caress each breast, taking my time, then lather up with the soap. I cup my hand under the water before letting it trickle slowly down my body, turning slightly so that the camera picks it up.

I wonder if he knows.

Does he think I’m doing this for him because I want him? Or does he see this for what it is?

No longer able to stand it, I grab a towel and check the screens again. He’s not in the living room any longer. Is he out there? No, the cellar is empty. I try to dry myself without making it obvious that I’m angling myself closer to the soup cans in case he decides to come down to the cellar. Disappointment hits when I see him exit the bathroom.

He’s zipping up his fly as he comes out, a massive grin plastered across his face. Bile rises when I realise what he was doing in there. I push it down and dress quickly. I’m done with my little show for today.