New Love Springs

Chapter 14 - A New Life?

Things had been going...fine.

He'd been gone for three months. Nellie was beyond sad - she was incomplete, but she couldn't let Toby, or herself for that matter, know that. She couldn't let Sweeney control her.

It was true – he did control her. Not purposely.

Everything about him consumed her, and it had done for as long as she could remember. It still did.

She couldn't let herself feel it; blankness was all she would let herself feel. Was she depressed? No.

She certainly didn't feel that way! She was in control of her feelings, wasn't she?! She could feel sad if she wanted, consumed if she fancied it, she could simply cry and wallow if she let herself.

But she couldn't laugh, not naturally anyway. That wasn't something she didn't like thinking about.

One day, Toby was out with his new friends and Nellie was sat on the chair, where she'd been for the past two days...

She slowly, mechanically, got up and dressed herself. She needed to get some fresh air. She decided she would go on a walk over the sea front. 

'Sweeney loved me in this dress. He would call me beautiful', she whispered robotically to herself. Nellie glanced at her reflection in the mirror. What was happening to her?

 Her beautiful, vivid red hair had faded to a dull stale blood colour, and the frizzy curls were no longer attractive, they were completely out of control – matted and sticking up with a large knot on the underneath layers. She wore the same heavy black eye make-up she'd been wearing for a week, waiting it for it to fade completely like the red lipstick had. She was covered in spots. Probably the result of not eating well for months.

The areas around her eyes had creased into wrinkles, and her laughter lines had deepened, which was strange as she certainly hadn't done any laughing. She didn't feel her confident, bubbly self anymore. She was a stranger in this foreign body and had no idea what to do with herself.

Eleanor Lovett was a wreck.

She barely ever acknowledged Toby anymore, but the poor boy just got on with chores (basically the upkeep of the house and making cakes to sell in order to earn a living, not that Nellie cared – she just sat down all day, dreaming of a knock on a door and Sweeney sweeping her off her feet like she was a princess. She dreamed of their forgotten fairy-tale white wedding, and looking after the child they had both dreamed of having with love and tender care, whilst tears she wasn't even aware of rolled down her unkempt face)

The angelic Toby also made food for both of them and did all his schoolwork. He even helped Nellie get washed and dressed on occasion, not that she was aware or thankful about this privacy invasion.

So, that was how life was for Toby and Nellie.

What about Sweeney?

Nellie hadn't left his thoughts. What had he done?! They had been so happy! He had acted on impulse and caused a whole family to disintegrate. He had ruined the woman he loved. He couldn't go back, he couldn't bear seeing what he'd done to her ever again; the unlit eyes, the speaking with no emotion – he recognised these feelings in his old behaviour. It made him feel so selfish.

What kind of man walks out on a woman he has caused pain, a pregnant one at that? It didn't bear thinking about. He thought he'd been over his old life and the depression but he was wrong, and staying with Nellie made him feel guilty about that – he could never go back.

He would never see his child.

For the past month, Sweeney had been staying at the old house, sleeping in a chair they had left behind. One day (the day Nellie had decided to go out for a walk) he ventured into the bedroom they had shared for that blissful but horribly short period of time.

He sat where the bed used to be. Everything had gone with them when they moved by the sea. The house would never feel the same; the once only home he had ever known was now just a collection of dusty, empty rooms.

The Barber shop, however, remained intact. The chair, the trunk, the cracked mirror that distorted your features when you looked through it remained; the drawers and the picture of Lucy and Joanna were also still there.

The room contained a foul stench of stale blood - no wonder nobody had wanted to buy the house and adjoining shops. Sweeney snaked his hand into one of the drawers and gasped as his fingers brushed against a familiar old box. How had he not realised that he left his razors behind?

Slowly Sweeney stroked one of the razors he now held in his hand as the sun glinted off the silver metal. He was confused to find that holding it didn't feel the same anymore... it wasn't his friend; it was a brutal killing machine.

The familiar ring of the bell on the door startled Sweeney and the razor sprang out of his hand and tumbled underneath the chest of drawers, where it would no doubt stay – Sweeney had recently made big mistakes, but he was no longer a murderer.

He whirled round and opened the door. Facing him was a stranger. A female, beautiful stranger.

Meanwhile, Nellie had ventured slowly out of the house, convinced she would return a better woman. She had washed her hair, changed her outfit and applied new makeup, as well as eating a healthy meal and drinking water. She felt a lot better – surely it was just fresh air and a healthy lifestyle she needed, not Sweeney? After all, she wasn't depressed and she wouldn't let herself become depressed! (AUTHORS NOTE – I know being depressed can't be controlled, I just want Nellie to think that she can control her feelings)

She did feel sad  and empty most of the time and had let herself go a bit...maybe if she just got on with other things she would start to feel better.

Smiling, (Nellie was used to covering up her emotions), she strolled down the lane leading onto the beach, and stood in the grassy field that overlooked the sea. As she was so near the beach, Nellie could feel sand wriggling its way in between her bare toes. She stood for a moment, watching the waves breaking and crashing against the water below them with a noisy impact. Still smiling and breathing the sea air in deeply, she began to run across the beach, but tripped and fell suddenly onto the soft sand.

Before she even hit the ground, however, someone had caught her arm. Grasping her arm tightly, with a face etched with concern was a stranger. A male, handsome stranger. 

ANOTHER AUTHORS NOTE (sorry) - I've now decided that the ending to this story will be happy:) Thanks for reading everyone xxx