Chapter 19

I stop watching my former best friend and draw back the dusty silk navy blue curtains, not only because I can't support myself in that position any longer but also because I can't risk being seen –most of all on a day like today when I have a mission I am determined to accomplish. My left leg fires up from a recent beating as I stand up to leave and I dry swallow the two remaining Valium tablets from the coffee table.  Probably not a good idea considering I have not eaten for two days.

I walk up the rotting wooden staircase, skipping some of the stairs entirely because I know they can't support my weight. I skip two consecutive rotten stairs and I fall on my hip bone hard enough to resurrect my entire nervous system and no amount of Valium would be able to kill that pain. Tears sting my eyes but I am not going to open the floodgates. I grit my teeth hard enough to arouse a headache and limp the rest of the way to the second floor landing.

The second floor has four doors, three of which are faded and scratched while the one for the master bedroom at the end of the hall, is hanging on to it's last hinge for dear life. I shiver when I remember how in anger, my husband had punched the door off it's hinges.

I ignore the debilitating pain coursing through my body and limp the rest of the way to the master bedroom which originally belonged to my parents but now serves as my marital bedroom. A single king-sized bed with rumpled sheets decorates the room. The curtains are still drawn because I had barely got the energy to crawl out of my bed today. I am only out to accomplish my mission before my husband comes back which will be very soon. My eyes settle on the half empty bottle of beer and my mouth waters.

No, not today. I am stronger than this.

I pass the mirror on the dressing table and cringe at the person who looks back at me. My hair is disheveled and my face is bruised. I pass a finger over my purple eye and the stinging pain forces me to stop. What have I become? Have I become the traditional Mattapan woman, braving the assaults of her husband and sticking by him through thick and thin?

I limp across the room to the walk-in closet which is locked with a rusty looking paddlock. I riffle through the stack of clothes on the floor where I had hidden the crowbar from the garage last night.

I hit the paddlock the first time and I am only rewarded with a vibrating pain in my hands. The second time... nothing and even the third time... nothing. For a rusty paddlock, it is holding up pretty well. The fourth try brings the paddlock to it's knees. It falls to the brown shag carpet without a sound. I open the door with a bit of trepidation. Today, it is time to open up the can of worms, it is time to let the skeletons out of the closet, literally.

The room has a damp dusty smell and it is pretty much what a walk-in closet is supposed to look like. Clothes are hung on all sides of the room, handbags are on one corner of the room and shoes litter the floor. This closet is meant to fool people but I am not those people. I have lived here all my life and I can already tell what is different.

All the clothes in these room belonged to my parents. Ever since I got married eight years ago, both mine and my husband's clothes were kept in two suitcases in our bedroom. The clothes in this closet are for show. I walk deeper into the closet and notice something else that is unusual.

My footsteps give off an echo that I have never heard before. I stamp my feet once, twice and a third time but there is still an echo. I put my hand to the wooden floor and push. The panel creaks in response. I then pull the board and it slides out rather easily. Horror and fear paralyse my features after I see what has been hidden under the floors of the walk-in closet.

Jars of ash are stuffed under the floor boards. I pull one out and it has a name written in my brother's big looping script, Albert Houghton

Bile rises to my throat but I don't have the time to dispose of it because my husband's van has just pulled up. I have to get out before Alex finds me in here. My mind is hazy with various thoughts. My husband, Alex was in cahoots with Walter?

I run out of the master bedroom and slam into Alex's hulking body. He smells  of sweat and alcohol. His eyes are bloodshot and his teeth are stained with nicotine. His now long black hair is scattered around his face like a curtain.

Pain courses through my veins as he grabs my arm none too gently and begins to drag me outside. My brain can't think past the pain and my body shuts down.

"We need to go." Alex says through gritted teeth as he hefts me up on his shoulder and leads me outside and into his van.

The morning sunlight no matter how mild it is scorches my eyes. When had I last seen the sun? He opens the back door and drops me on.... something or  someone.

"How are you doing sis?" Walter says as he comes out and stands by Alex's side dressed in a blue polo shirt and khaki trousers in sharp contrast to the scrap that Alex is wearing.

I sneer at him and that earns me a well deserved slap on the cheek that leaves me numb.

"Please God. Protect Elaine from all this. Let those who deserve to be punished get punished instead." I mutter as the van slams closed and kicks into gear.

My hope for a saviour is crashed though when I see what or in this case who, cushioned my earlier fall into the van. Elizabeth lies on my left side curled in a fetal position, her hands forming a protective covering over her stomach and a woman with auburn hair lies unconscious on my right. This is not going to end well for anyone.