Chapter 32: NOW - The Safe Room

As soon as I carry Sophie back into the house, I hurry upstairs with her and run a hot bath. She needs to warm up right away. As she continues to sob, I take her tiny hands, and rub them between mine, but I’m just as cold and it isn’t working. She won’t calm down, no matter what reassurances I give her. I coo and soothe her, tell her she’s okay, that everything is going to be fine, but at the bottom of my gut is a layer of black tar, sticky and sour.

“Mummy, I’m sorry,” she says, as I peel away her wet pyjamas. “I’m sorry.”

I dunk my hand into the bath and add cold water. “You have nothing to be sorry about, poppet.”

I pick her up and gently lower her into the warm water, then splash her arms and chest with the water, warming her up. It takes a few moments for her to finally stop shivering. I rest my head on the edge of the bath. Did I do the wrong thing? I let Emily into this house because she needed help. I offered her sanctuary before snatching it away.

Once Sophie is warm, I wrap her up in towels and get her dry, trying not to think about Emily’s plaintive expression as I walked away from her. If she ends up hurt… or worse…

She’s pregnant. And I turned her away.

But how do I know she’s telling the truth? She isn’t showing, and I have nothing but her word. She came to me with bruises on her face and I took everything she said as the truth without any real proof. Of course I did, I’m not a monster. I believe people when they say they’ve been abused, because I understand what it’s like.

I still have to trust my gut. I can’t prove it, but I think Emily lied to me about the rest of the street losing power. She may even have opened the window upstairs.

A cold icicle of terror pierces through my flesh. She would only open the window if she wanted to let someone in.

I grab Sophie and bundle her up into my arms, then make my way out into the hall. Sophie grips hold of the back of my neck and presses her face into my collarbone. She feels all the tension in my body, I’m sure of it. I swallow thickly and step out into the hall. I stop. The house is silent. No rattling of pots and pans. No floorboard creaks or door closing.

I make my way slowly towards the attic hatch, still in the dark, feeling my way carefully. Sophie’s breathing comes out softly against my skin. I readjust her weight, my arms and back tiring. But I won’t put her down, not until I’m sure we’re safe. Fingers trail the wall. We’re getting closer. I don’t know what I’ll do if Peter leaps out at me. I don’t have a plan. But I need to know if the pans have been disturbed.

I stop closer to where I know the attic hatch is and grab my phone. I’m very low on battery at this point but I need the light. With shaking hands, I hold down the icon for the torch and watch the dark hall illuminate.

The hatch is still closed. I let out a sigh of relief. There is no man standing in the hall ready to pounce. We’re safe. We’re okay.

But as I’m about to turn around and head back down the stairs, I notice something on the carpet underneath the hatch. One of the pans has fallen to the floor.

A shiver worms its way down my spine. I move forward to investigate. It’s possible that the string may have come unravelled, or that it snapped. It’s the smallest pan, the one I tied on last. There’s no way of knowing for sure. I wasn’t here when it happened.

There’s a snare drum of fear beating beneath my ribs. All I know, is that I need to get out of this hall. Fast.