What Once I Was

Chapter 18

What does he know? He's completely wrong. None of this was my fault. Everything I did was to protect my marriage, to keep Robert close. It was working until she came crashing into our lives. I stand, the chair beneath me crashing to the floor.

"I did nothing wrong! This is entirely her fault. I should have got rid of her when I had the chance!"

Ben shares a knowing glance with Gary, though what they think they know is a mystery to me. Robert, the cowardly fool, should have known better than to think I'd simply leave without a fight. If it was a fight he wanted, I hoped he came prepared.

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Robert never rang me back. Never fought for our marriage the way I had done for three decades. In the face of a minor inconvenience he ran with his tail between his legs. I'd curled myself around the base of the toilet, shaking and numb, all the tears my body possessed soaking the floor beneath me. I kept checking my notifications, hoping to find something that would let me know it was all a cruel joke, or a nightmare I'd yet to wake from.

I'd never been hurt like I was then, the knife snapped in my stomach, impossible to remove. Every little movement sent the pain rippling through me. I wanted to vomit, to scream. To take my pain in my fist and force it into Twin B's heart, breaking her ribs until I could feel the pulsating flesh against my fingertips.

Have you ever hated someone? Truly hated them? It leaves you living and breathing in a constant state of red. The thought of their blood upon your hands, the sound of their dying gasp as you stand above them, plants a smile on your face.

I needed to get up, to stretch out the cramps that made home in my legs and arms. I needed a drink. With a groan, I pulled myself together enough to route through the kitchen cupboards in search of anything alcoholic to lift the edge. I winced at the burn of vodka down my throat, letting out a deep ah with my eyes closed. That would do it. I wasn't much of a drinker. In fact, the only time alcohol found its way into our home was if I needed it to cook with or if someone gifted us it when hosting a dinner night. It wasn't a large bottle of vodka, one of those mini shot bottles that I'd bought to try a recipe I'd overheard some of the young mums gossiping about a few months back. I was thankful in that moment that Robert had been appalled at the very idea of it.

It didn't take long for bottles to lay about me, my head swaying as I tried to straighten my vision. The mixture of spirits, brandy and wine left an awful aftertaste. A small hiccup shot pain through my ribs, my watery eyes landing on the knife block just out of reach. I couldn't believe he would leave me like this. Hang me up to dry and expect me to financially support myself. I'd have to leave this home, maybe even my hometown. I wasn't sure where I could go. My parents were long dead, their house sold years back. I supposed I could ask Sophie to put me up, at least for a little while. But it would never do long term, we were just too different.

Humiliation and anger bubbled. I would never forgive him. I threw my rage around, furniture flying about until the house was as upturned as it had been when I came home the night before. Even Naomi's room, previously unscathed, felt my wrath. Her teddies, once littered across her bed, were torn and sprawled about the floor. Her clothes yanked from their coat-hangers. I was sick of Robert dictating where I could go in my own home. If he really believed he was going to leave this marriage, to take half of everything we'd accumulated together, he'd have another thing coming. I smiled at the image of his face as he saw his precious daughter's belongings broken and unrecognisable as I took the kitchen scissors to her many hand-drawn pictures.

He would have nothing to keep her memory alive. I vowed to drag him to the deepest pits of hell. To make sure he suffered for what he was doing to me. I would turn him in to the police, make them believe he'd made my existence unbearable. I'd make sure they punished him until his last breath escaped his lungs. After everything I had done for him, all that I had sacrificed. The audacity of it all. He would get what he deserved. I would see to it.

Don't look at me like that. You have no right to judge me. You have no idea what it's been like for me.

Her pictures floated like snowflakes about the room, not a single piece of clothing or toy left unscathed. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I fumbled with the buttons, trying to locate the camera icon. With my vision blurred and unhelpful in the task, it took a few attempts. Finally! Standing unsteadily on my feet, I lifted the camera sideways over my head, moving around the room so that every piece of destruction would be evident in the video. With a smile, I clicked Robert's name, selected the video and hit send.

I just had to wait. Closing her door behind me, not wanting to see anything more of her, I stumbled down the hall to the bedroom I would now spend forever alone in. The book Robert was reading, some book about elves and dwarves, Lord of the something - I would feel myself zoning out whenever he tried to talk about it - sat neatly atop his bedside table. A personalised bookmark I'd bought him one valentine's day protruded from the top. See how you and your Hobbit things like this! The pages tore easily, falling at my feet like confetti. Another quick snap of the camera, sent once more with a thrill of anticipation washing through me.

My phone vibrated in my hand. I smiled at Robert's name, taking a few seconds to open the message. In part because I wanted to leave him waiting, but also because the room had started to spin violently. I could feel the vomit gurgling in my stomach. Taking a steadying breath, I opened the message.

"You fucking psychotic bitch!"