Chapter 23: THEN - The Safe Room

Dad ended up with just a fine. Honey wanted to celebrate after we left the court, but we were all too exhausted. I’d just watched Peter walk out of the building with his mother and my spine still tingled just thinking about it. The world wasn’t right. It should have been him on trial.

“The lies,” Mum muttered on the car ride home. “That bastard said he had memory loss. Laying it on thick, with some poor, manipulated doctor there to back him up. Crying like he was the one suffering.”

“Dick,” Honey said. “He should be in prison. And his mum.”

“What happened with Mary?” I asked.

Honey rolled her eyes. “She practically claimed you were this harlot leading him on and that her precious son had never done anything wrong.”

Mum went quiet then. I knew she had mixed feelings about Mary and was still hurting from their recent fight.

“Then they had this girl come out and say he’d been the perfect gentleman when she went out with him for like two weeks. I wonder how much they paid her.” Honey scoffed. “What a joke. Dad shouldn’t have to cough up two hundred quid for punching that cretin.”

“Honey, can we stop now?” Dad sounded exhausted as he reprimanded her. “Let’s talk about something else.”

But there was nothing else to talk about.

Later, Mum reheated leftover stew and we sat quietly in the living room barely speaking. A Midsomer Murders repeat played in the background. I couldn’t concentrate on the screen.

I will forever hate Peter for what he did to my dad. He damaged so much of my life, but when he dragged my family into the whole mess, I started to truly despise him, to fantasise about his death. It had to be slow and painful, like being dragged behind a car, or crushed to death by machinery. I longed for the news that some terrible accident had taken this man out of the world, because I knew it would be a better place without him.

Whispers about our family circulated around the estate. They drifted along with the wind, like the odour from a nearby restaurant. We were trouble. I was a slut. Dad was violent. Honey was deranged. Mum was weak. People crossed the street when they saw us. If Mum or Dad went to the pub, the whole place fell silent. Honey wasn’t invited to as many parties, and we barely received a Christmas card that year.

It took a while for Peter to return to his stalking. He hadn’t been arrested, just warned. I’m sure Dad’s moment of violence really did throw him out of sync for a bit. Even psychos like Peter can be cowards.

I hate to think about how much joy he took in making my life miserable.

I kept thinking back to that moment on the witness stand where I’d seen him gradually turn his penetrating gaze onto me, making me feel naked and exposed. It had been my moment to prove I wasn’t afraid of him, and yet I’d stuttered and blushed like a damsel in distress. Every time I thought about that moment, I felt nothing but shame.

A few more months came and went before his shadow reemerged. One day I saw him smiling at me from across the street and I vomited into the gutter. The people around me moved to evade the disgusting contents of my stomach, and when I raised my head, he was gone.

It was at that moment as I stared down at the sick near my shoes that I realised I didn’t want to live anymore. I couldn’t face this any longer. I was done, tired, completely and utterly exhausted. I made myself a promise that I would finally beat Peter Harlow by taking myself out of the world so that he couldn’t stalk me anymore.

When the texts and phone calls started up again, I didn’t tell anyone because I hated what it was doing to my family. Instead, I acted like everything was normal. I lied to Mum about my grades at school. I made up stories about my friends and their social lives, yapping at dinnertime about how Hannah had fallen out with Becca and I was the mediator.

Every now and then I’d tell Mum I had a headache and ask for some paracetamol. Slowly but surely, I saved every pill and kept them in my bedside table. About a month later, I had over twenty pills. I was counting them when Honey barged into my room. I barely had time to sweep them into the drawer before she noticed.

She sat down on the bed next to me and pulled her legs up to sit in a yoga pose. “So has he really left you alone?”

“Seems like it.” I picked some dirt out of my nails to avoid her penetrating eyes.

“Seems like you’re lying. You should tell Mum and Dad what’s going on.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

She made a fart noise with her lips. “As if. You’re the worst liar in the world, Amber. Also, I know you’re not hanging out with your friends anymore. We go to the same school, remember?”

“So?”

“So, get a grip.” She tapped me around the head. Then she sighed when I turned away from her. “Look, I know all of this is shitty for you. I get it. I’d feel fucked up if someone did this to me, but you can’t let him win⁠—”

“He is winning. Nothing bad has happened to him. He got a warning, big deal⁠—”

“If you can prove he’s doing it again you can get the restraining order.” She grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Don’t give up, Amber.”

I shrugged her off and wiped tears from my eyes.

“What were you hiding when I came in?” Her eyes roamed towards the bedside table.

I pulled at my sleeves, nervously. “Nothing.”

When Honey reached for the drawer, I got hold of her forearm, trying to yank her away. “Stop. It.”

Honey barged my torso with her bony shoulder and I winced, but I couldn’t let her see the pills. I refused to let go, my nails digging into her arm. Honey whacked me over the head twice with her free hand then shoved me down onto the bed.

“What’s in there?”

“Nothing!”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

I fought back, but she was stronger, somehow managing to pin me down and yank the drawer open at the same time. I heard the pills drop onto the carpet and a silence fell over the room. Honey regarded me with sharp, angry eyes, and slapped me around the face. Without saying a word, she collected the pills and walked out of the room. Then I heard her flush the toilet and knew they were gone.

I saw the mirror across the room, my crimson face and slack jaw, the exact moment all the shame flooded my body. I slumped forward and the pathetic creature in the mirror slumped too. I balled my skirt up in my fists and tears hit the pale flesh of my thighs.

One paracetamol pill remained on the carpet. I stamped my heel over it, crushing it to powder and grinding it into the carpet.

She’d seen me. Seen the depth of it. I’d witnessed her razor-focused gaze, the pure rage in her expression and it killed the desire to end it all.

I never attempted suicide. I had to live with the fact that for an entire month I planned it. Every time the thought came back to me throughout my life I remembered Honey’s eyes. I remembered how much she wanted me to live and that gave me some hope.

But I still didn’t tell Mum and Dad about what was happening at school or at home. About a week after the fight with Honey, I went to the police station myself and delivered the new text messages sent from Peter Harlow.

I was lucky to find PC Thomas at the station that day. On the way I’d dreaded the thought of having to explain it all to a stranger. He made us both a cup of tea and found a quiet room to talk. I held onto the Leeds United mug with both hands, nodding and shaking my head as he asked me questions.

“All right, Amber. It’s good that you brought this to me. But we need to verify that these messages came from Peter. That means obtaining a warrant to find out if this number is registered to Peter. It might take some time.”

My shoulders slumped. Everything took time. I lived in limbo while men pushed papers around desks.

I left the police station and wondered if Peter was waiting for me. I’d had to get off the school bus three stops early to walk to the station. If he wanted to wait for me somewhere, it would be at my usual stop. The thought of surprising him made me smile, and I checked my phone.

Are you screwing a boy right now??

Are you a total slut?

I wanted to respond, to write the dirtiest tale of me being with a boy, something so salacious it would make his head explode, but I didn’t know anything salacious, and it would have only egged him on. But now I knew where he was, so I could walk around this area without him watching me.

I was free, and it felt good. It wasn’t going to last, I knew that, but for half an hour or so, I was alone. I went to a café and bought a hot chocolate. I sat in the window and watched people walk by, like I was the stalker, wondering why he liked it so much. I took out my exercise books and actually worked on my homework for a change. I could finally concentrate.

I had to get this feeling back. There was an ache in my body so intense, like the worst period cramps ever. I needed this. Honey was right. I’d been letting Peter win, and I couldn’t do that any longer. He’d never physically hurt me, and I had to assume that would always be the case. So I made a pact with myself. I wasn’t allowed to be scared anymore. Not of a man who stood around and watched, who hid behind text messages and voicemails. Not of a coward who ran away when confronted.

Peter Harlow was a tiny dog without any teeth. He could bark all he wanted but I knew he wouldn’t bite.

I stared out of the café window and I smiled to myself. For the first time, I felt my own power, and I was going to use it.