Dirty Dish Water
Alana had just finished flushing away the last of her dirty dish water. She stood captivated as the murky bubbles swished their last remains down the sink. She was waiting for her husband Herald. Married for five years she could only feel abandoned in her married life. She knew she would be getting another beating tonight, if not for burning the pork then for stepping accidentally in front of the television. She was a prisoner in a domestic cage if she spoke out of her woes to anyone then he would surely find her and pummel her inches from death. She was never a violent person herself, nether was he, but marriage seeped through them both like venom, slowly devouring their old beliefs creating new people, with the constant vow of for better or for worse looming over their hatred for each other. The door opened, Herald entered the house with red eyes, the rain made him look a rat out of water scurrying for food. He took of his over coat and walked up stairs to dry himself; neither said a word to each other. As he finished drying he took a seat in front of a well made meal, he picked up his knife and folk and ate without looking at the meal. 'The pork's burnt' A gush of anger seeped through Alana as she broke the wooden kitchen spoon, 'Fucking hell woman, can't you even make dinner without fucking it up!' She coolie choose her words, carefully pronouncing each syllable to avoid another black eye, there was only so much make up could do. 'I, I, forgot the bread, I - need - to - go - to - the - shops... Back soon honey, sorry I can't stay with you' She gave him a kiss on the cheek and fumbled for her coat which was hung up in his sight a side of the door. She left the house with a face full of cold tears, the winter weather numbing her face from her teardrops. She searches her crimson red winter coat for her tobacco, a hobby what she keeps hidden from Herald, and looks for a place to smoke. Smoking for Alana has always been reflective for her, she didn't care that she would die from them; she always thought her husband would do that for her. She looked for a place to go, and suddenly saw a space she's never been before. A garden outside a church, abandoned. "Obviously, it's late' a rare calm thought coming from her stressed body. She sneaked in, looking over her shoulders afraid she might be seen by a neighbour. Once she knew she was safe she took her tobacco from her coat and rolled herself a cigarette.
She walked around the grounds for a few minutes looking at all the things she had never seemed to notice before, the dying tree hanging over a small stone wall. The railway tracks where only meters away she would wait for her train to work. Her hands were numb now the cold frost of the evening wouldn't let her enjoy her roll up for long. She sat down regardless and rolled another, the longer she was away from her husband the better. Foreign thoughts were crawling through her mind, questions with a lot of what ifs? And too many it might works. She was afraid and she wanted escape, she wanted to be a normal sane woman, and in her torment she started to believe that if all marriages were like this then not a lot of people were sane. Her thoughts felt more like common sense, murder as a sound option, a get out of hell free card. It was a plan, a complex plan, but the best plans are. Astonishingly she stubbed out the last of her second smoke, and menacingly stored it away in a plastic bag with the rest of her stubs. All of her erratic thoughts and ambitions were slowly fading with the walk back, she had giving herself space and even though she thought of some vulgar images she was never truly capable of committing murder, even if it was to someone she felt deserved it. Alana dreamed of travelling one day, and once so did Herald, however, with work and the stress of the way he should be made Herald into someone he wasn't. He became less liberal, he started to truly care how he looked, and it wasn't for his wife's sake. As far as Alana was concerned Herald had been butchered by modern society. She forgave him for this sometimes, and that night they snuggled up in front of the fire, Herald had chosen a Jimmy eat world record out of collection to listen to. And that night, the first in years they were happy together. Alana had been woken by an alarm clock beside them, she switched it off she figured that if they could only spend more moments like this their marriage could last. Hours went by Alana was woken by a crude slap to the face, her nose streaming blood. 'You made me late, for fuck sake Alana, you bitch! I should just fuck that tart at the office, least she knows how to turn me on!' Alana snapped, she took hold of the large filthy pork knife from last night’s dinner and lunged it in the back of her abusive husband. Herald said little in his last moments, there was a moment where he looked at Alana, but it was a vague look. A look a stranger would give another stranger. Alana cried, she never really wanted to do it like this. She would have rather had a divorce, not a prison sentence. Time became an enemy to her, she stole every last piece of money she could from her recently deceased husband. Sporadic thoughts crossed through her mind, passport, last minute flight, change of clothes. She figured she had about 12 hours until someone would come looking for them; she was too weak to move his body, so she left it decaying in the house.
Alana stole more than she intended to, he purse filled with credit cards and an abundance of money which was easily an awkward thing to explain if ever she was noticed carrying several thousand strips of paper, each one with the Queen's head, with every eye staring at her, into her eyes, her guilty conscious. Alana considered herself to be brave at this moment, she avoided definitions of character like psychopath, or demented, or killer. She wanted to admit what she had done but at the same time she believed her actions were justified. Victim, victim, victim would stream through her head like a blood flow regurgitating confidence to her weakening self esteem. She was in the airport now, waiting for her plane, Alana was nervous, but somehow excited. She looked round at every soul in the building with new found eyes. She would see people come and go, fallen into a life style acting like pigeons caught in a coup. She knew her actions were wrong, but she couldn't help but feel liberated all at the same time. With each passing moment Alana felt more and more callous against her action against Herald. She quickly thought back on how she had left the house, her dead husband dripping blood on to their recently bought white carpet; the stone gaze on his face. She had locked the doors, she had locked the windows, closed the curtains and left a note for the milk man ''Back in two weeks! Herald and Alana x x x'' She knew there was no turning back, and all what she could think of was how clean her tracks were. This exhilarated her more than anything, but still her timid life had not truly prepared her for her new life ahead, whether it was freedom, imprisonment or death. The airport was busy, it was a Friday afternoon, police were scurrying around like stray cats with a thrown out chicken leg. They were too busy focusing on the drunkards and the violent to notice a poor lonely white girl like herself. She had packed light, the last thing she wanted to do was to be carrying her hair straighteners around after she had committed cold blooded murder. Alas, all what she did have with her was a purse bursting with English currency and a back pack with a spare change of clothes. In her haste she had even forgotten her toiletries. She looked around at all the flights in the airport, Singapore, Austria, Prague, Paris, mostly European destinations. Anything was OK with her right now. She held her breath and summoned her courage to ask an attendant the next flight out of the UK, a strange request which she covered up with her 'I'm newly divorced' story: not a total lie, she thought. She was overwhelmed when she heard her destination, 'Munich', she muttered the name twice over every over minute, with every letter that she spelt felt to her like she was spelling out freedom.
She waited an hour before her flight and before she knew it herself she was touching the ground of Munich airport. The air was ominous and Alana felt the like the world knew everything she had done, for every eye what would of caught her gaze she dodged and ducked with self and grace, she could of become a professional if eye dodging ever became a sport. Her first thought was to rest, she was tired and needed sleep, something she now find extremely difficult to do. The staff in the hotel were friendly and spoke fluent English, a novel thing what managed to put her at ease. She put her belongings in a cupboard and locked the door. She was now ready to live again. Her woes on hold she explored the city with virgin eyes, a new child of the world. Her knees weak she was happy to see an outside beer garden serving lager by the litre. After she had finally caught her thoughts, as sporadic as they were she was just as soon noticed by a casual man. He was wearing a Munich T-shirt and Hawaiian shorts. His looked like he had already enjoyed his first few litres all ready 'my, what a beautiful maiden you are, care you give me the privilege of your name my mademoiselle?' He sounded drunk, with a northern accent which seeped out though his vowels. 'Err, hi, just drinking, thank you' 'Why a princess like you should have company from a chivalrous cavalier such as myself, now your name my lady, mine is Robert Julian Francis III, or Bob' Alana suddenly felt more relaxed and felt she could talk a little easier, 'Al...' As soon as she began she knew she couldn't give her real name she paused and thought 'Alica.... My name is Alica Forbert, nice to meet your acquaintance Bob, but please, just Alica'. The two talked for the rest of the night, she found it surprising how easy it was to completely avoid mentioning her now ex-husband. She limbered, and began remembering the type of person she really was. She told of her ex husband, and twisted the truth with truth what could have been. She told him everything, everything par from the murder. Alana felt revived. She found out that Bob was here on business, and that although he was, he never really worked. ''Paper work which would bore you my dear, if I said more I fear you would fall into a coma and never wake, I could never hold such guilt''. Alana smiled and looked guiltily away.
Her life was spinning in a cycle she wasn't familiar with, her life of old, lost as hopefully as she could imagine it is. She had gotten away with murder her life was as great as she could possibly need it to be. There was little for her to do other than to start a new life. She spent a month in Munich, a fortnight with Bob and a week in each hotel. There had been no word on the news or papers about the murder, she could only feel calm. After Alana's first four weeks in Munich she travelled to Berlin then left to go to Rotterdam. It was her forth night, the street lights were making the trees ghost white. She was walking along a path whilst she saw a man in a long coat smoking a cigarette. She rolled one herself; every time she saw someone smoke she always had a desire to light her own. She thought pass the psychology of this, merely has a desire of self will than an urge forged from another person’s actions. She was independent enough now to make her own choices especially after what she has been through. As soon as she had rolled it the stranger made haste to offer her a light, she took it has a kind gesture, it was too late in the evening to become sceptical; paranoia was the last thing she needed. He wasted no time to leave her; he said no words to her. A mere gesture of the light and after it was lit the man was gone. Although avoiding suspicion she gazed over her shoulder every other minute to make sure she was alone. She started to really think about what she was doing what she was going to go, and where she could live. She had written a plan on a note book, pink with yellow paper, something which she had found in a passing store in Berlin. Her next stop was Noorweick.
The air was warm. Her night had been plagued with nightmares of her killing, she was becoming stronger however. Her self esteem had risen from the dormouse she once was. She looked for a place to say on the coast of her new destination and found a hostel. If it weren't for the directions of the Internet site she used she would have never found the remote place. It was after the time she was meant to of arrived, she was panicking a little that she would have to wonder alone in the night. And something warned her not to stay out in the darkness for too long. Her body eased with looking at the ocean, the waves kicking at the shore, the bodies playing volleyball in the sand. After countless times knocking she almost gave up, but after a final knock someone answered. A boy in his late teens of early twenties, Alana wasn't too sure she was never the best judge on ages. It was only a year ago when all was normal that she had asked for ID of a thirty year old man who wanted cigarettes. The randomness of her thought made her laugh the male who stood in front of her had shaggy long hair and looked extremely relaxed where he was. His name was Julian, who said he lived in Grimsby, England before he had come there for a holiday which has lasted for four years. Julian took what she had of her belongings and placed them in her room. She spent the night talking with the staff and passing visitors. One of the other workers was Nova, an Australian girl who had long hair which was shaved to a millimetre from the side of her head. A bell rung, her body trembled, she was in shock. "Do they know?'' It was at this point that shots where handed round and every person in the room took a shot of a spirit including Julian and Nova. Alana followed suit, and throughout the night forgot the reason she was there at all. She was beginning to feel for the first time that she could belong. The culture was so different she felt like she had found an estranged family, all of them travellers reuniting for a once in a life time reunion. The drinks flowed throughout the night her mind became coherent for the first time in very long time. She became one of a group, a group which she followed a group which followed her. They all decided to play volleyball in the beach, her drunken body stumbling in her flat shoes which she somehow lost in the sand. She woke up the next morning on the sand; several other slumbering bodies were laid apart from one another, her eyes looking at stranger’s eyes, her life changing with every look and stare. It was this morning that she decided to stay there forever.
Years went by; Alana had given a false name to the people who lived there. But it was only a fake last name this time. Her life had normality about it, no one knew about her past except a few of her close friends. Even they didn't know the entire truth. It was a surprisingly cold morning when the door of the hostel gave a heavy bang, another went then a final before Nova opened the door to two large men in suits. ''We're looking for Alana Jacquin, we've been told that she was last sited around this area''. The men gave Nova a picture of Alana on her wedding day, Herald and her looked Naive and happy together. ''I... I'm sorry? No, I haven't I'm sorry I can't be of more help. Is there a number you can give, I can ask around the hostel, see if there's anyone...'' The men rudely stopped her "That's fine, whatever you can do to help, that's my card, good day miss'' The man had a British accent, Nova was unsure of exactly where, but her time around Julian and Alana told her it as definitely not from the north. Alana had changed in the past years, her hair was a new colour with every week, today she had it bright red, an after effect from her previous 'pink mood'. It was long, and to compare her with the Alana from years past would be difficult even for her parents. Nova told her everything, to Alana's surprise she discovered that both Nova and Julian knew about her past, everything. ''You need to do something Caramel; I don't know what to say....'' Nova's eyes swelled, she stopped has she saw Alana preparing herself to talk. ''I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, you understand, I couldn't bear another night with him. Not a day goes passed that I don't cry, that I feel guilt, that I feel sorrow. It was supposed to be perfect; when we first met he was my best friend. It was like we fitted together so well it couldn't of gone wrong. But it did, everyday that went pass was a day that we were killing each other. He wanted money success and a reputation for his promotion. All I wanted to do was earn enough to be comfortable. I became a slave with him, I hated him for it. Have you ever seen those cheesy old films where the women would make her man a meal and have it ready for when he's home, no questions asked. It was like that but worse. I lived a separate life from him. I became two people, till one day he hit me and I did it... I just did it. I was so scared I never wanted to speak of it again. Even with him abusing me and hitting me I just knew I'd be put away. I just ran Nova, I'm so scared I don't know what to do''. "Caramel, I understand. We want you here, we love you with are hearts and I don't want to see you leave. It was all over the headlines years ago, they reported everything. They had quotes from neighbours who heard screaming, and it was well known you were being beaten. We didn't say anything well, because we knew it would upset you. We should be sorry honey''.
Weeks then months went by, the men in suits were never seen again. The news reports claimed that she was missing and presumed dead. The main story that was believed was that she had woken up with her husband in a bloody mess and drove herself to her death. She couldn't work out why it was. There was no car, she had spoken to Heralds work the day he had died, it didn't fit. She looked at the name under the report, Robert Julian Francis III. ''Well I had to do something now didn't I. You see, my father, he was never one for government, politics or police. And when I told him that we had a mega attractive girl working for us he wanted to know more. It turns out he quite liked you, and don't worry he's happily married. I guess he heard about you being charged and he wanted to help. Luckily he's quite well respected and no one questions his sources, partly because he knows some powerful people and partly because his stories and mostly true. You're free dude''. Alana grabbed Julian, who she now knows as Robert Julian Francis IV a big slobbery kiss. She spent the night staring off into the ocean. The waves breaking across her toes, her ankles; as she was starting to cry fireworks flared across the sky, Julian and Nova running to her side. Alana was now missing and presumed dead, Alana had a new family, Alana had a new home, Alana was free.
She walked around the grounds for a few minutes looking at all the things she had never seemed to notice before, the dying tree hanging over a small stone wall. The railway tracks where only meters away she would wait for her train to work. Her hands were numb now the cold frost of the evening wouldn't let her enjoy her roll up for long. She sat down regardless and rolled another, the longer she was away from her husband the better. Foreign thoughts were crawling through her mind, questions with a lot of what ifs? And too many it might works. She was afraid and she wanted escape, she wanted to be a normal sane woman, and in her torment she started to believe that if all marriages were like this then not a lot of people were sane. Her thoughts felt more like common sense, murder as a sound option, a get out of hell free card. It was a plan, a complex plan, but the best plans are. Astonishingly she stubbed out the last of her second smoke, and menacingly stored it away in a plastic bag with the rest of her stubs. All of her erratic thoughts and ambitions were slowly fading with the walk back, she had giving herself space and even though she thought of some vulgar images she was never truly capable of committing murder, even if it was to someone she felt deserved it. Alana dreamed of travelling one day, and once so did Herald, however, with work and the stress of the way he should be made Herald into someone he wasn't. He became less liberal, he started to truly care how he looked, and it wasn't for his wife's sake. As far as Alana was concerned Herald had been butchered by modern society. She forgave him for this sometimes, and that night they snuggled up in front of the fire, Herald had chosen a Jimmy eat world record out of collection to listen to. And that night, the first in years they were happy together. Alana had been woken by an alarm clock beside them, she switched it off she figured that if they could only spend more moments like this their marriage could last. Hours went by Alana was woken by a crude slap to the face, her nose streaming blood. 'You made me late, for fuck sake Alana, you bitch! I should just fuck that tart at the office, least she knows how to turn me on!' Alana snapped, she took hold of the large filthy pork knife from last night’s dinner and lunged it in the back of her abusive husband. Herald said little in his last moments, there was a moment where he looked at Alana, but it was a vague look. A look a stranger would give another stranger. Alana cried, she never really wanted to do it like this. She would have rather had a divorce, not a prison sentence. Time became an enemy to her, she stole every last piece of money she could from her recently deceased husband. Sporadic thoughts crossed through her mind, passport, last minute flight, change of clothes. She figured she had about 12 hours until someone would come looking for them; she was too weak to move his body, so she left it decaying in the house.
Alana stole more than she intended to, he purse filled with credit cards and an abundance of money which was easily an awkward thing to explain if ever she was noticed carrying several thousand strips of paper, each one with the Queen's head, with every eye staring at her, into her eyes, her guilty conscious. Alana considered herself to be brave at this moment, she avoided definitions of character like psychopath, or demented, or killer. She wanted to admit what she had done but at the same time she believed her actions were justified. Victim, victim, victim would stream through her head like a blood flow regurgitating confidence to her weakening self esteem. She was in the airport now, waiting for her plane, Alana was nervous, but somehow excited. She looked round at every soul in the building with new found eyes. She would see people come and go, fallen into a life style acting like pigeons caught in a coup. She knew her actions were wrong, but she couldn't help but feel liberated all at the same time. With each passing moment Alana felt more and more callous against her action against Herald. She quickly thought back on how she had left the house, her dead husband dripping blood on to their recently bought white carpet; the stone gaze on his face. She had locked the doors, she had locked the windows, closed the curtains and left a note for the milk man ''Back in two weeks! Herald and Alana x x x'' She knew there was no turning back, and all what she could think of was how clean her tracks were. This exhilarated her more than anything, but still her timid life had not truly prepared her for her new life ahead, whether it was freedom, imprisonment or death. The airport was busy, it was a Friday afternoon, police were scurrying around like stray cats with a thrown out chicken leg. They were too busy focusing on the drunkards and the violent to notice a poor lonely white girl like herself. She had packed light, the last thing she wanted to do was to be carrying her hair straighteners around after she had committed cold blooded murder. Alas, all what she did have with her was a purse bursting with English currency and a back pack with a spare change of clothes. In her haste she had even forgotten her toiletries. She looked around at all the flights in the airport, Singapore, Austria, Prague, Paris, mostly European destinations. Anything was OK with her right now. She held her breath and summoned her courage to ask an attendant the next flight out of the UK, a strange request which she covered up with her 'I'm newly divorced' story: not a total lie, she thought. She was overwhelmed when she heard her destination, 'Munich', she muttered the name twice over every over minute, with every letter that she spelt felt to her like she was spelling out freedom.
She waited an hour before her flight and before she knew it herself she was touching the ground of Munich airport. The air was ominous and Alana felt the like the world knew everything she had done, for every eye what would of caught her gaze she dodged and ducked with self and grace, she could of become a professional if eye dodging ever became a sport. Her first thought was to rest, she was tired and needed sleep, something she now find extremely difficult to do. The staff in the hotel were friendly and spoke fluent English, a novel thing what managed to put her at ease. She put her belongings in a cupboard and locked the door. She was now ready to live again. Her woes on hold she explored the city with virgin eyes, a new child of the world. Her knees weak she was happy to see an outside beer garden serving lager by the litre. After she had finally caught her thoughts, as sporadic as they were she was just as soon noticed by a casual man. He was wearing a Munich T-shirt and Hawaiian shorts. His looked like he had already enjoyed his first few litres all ready 'my, what a beautiful maiden you are, care you give me the privilege of your name my mademoiselle?' He sounded drunk, with a northern accent which seeped out though his vowels. 'Err, hi, just drinking, thank you' 'Why a princess like you should have company from a chivalrous cavalier such as myself, now your name my lady, mine is Robert Julian Francis III, or Bob' Alana suddenly felt more relaxed and felt she could talk a little easier, 'Al...' As soon as she began she knew she couldn't give her real name she paused and thought 'Alica.... My name is Alica Forbert, nice to meet your acquaintance Bob, but please, just Alica'. The two talked for the rest of the night, she found it surprising how easy it was to completely avoid mentioning her now ex-husband. She limbered, and began remembering the type of person she really was. She told of her ex husband, and twisted the truth with truth what could have been. She told him everything, everything par from the murder. Alana felt revived. She found out that Bob was here on business, and that although he was, he never really worked. ''Paper work which would bore you my dear, if I said more I fear you would fall into a coma and never wake, I could never hold such guilt''. Alana smiled and looked guiltily away.
Her life was spinning in a cycle she wasn't familiar with, her life of old, lost as hopefully as she could imagine it is. She had gotten away with murder her life was as great as she could possibly need it to be. There was little for her to do other than to start a new life. She spent a month in Munich, a fortnight with Bob and a week in each hotel. There had been no word on the news or papers about the murder, she could only feel calm. After Alana's first four weeks in Munich she travelled to Berlin then left to go to Rotterdam. It was her forth night, the street lights were making the trees ghost white. She was walking along a path whilst she saw a man in a long coat smoking a cigarette. She rolled one herself; every time she saw someone smoke she always had a desire to light her own. She thought pass the psychology of this, merely has a desire of self will than an urge forged from another person’s actions. She was independent enough now to make her own choices especially after what she has been through. As soon as she had rolled it the stranger made haste to offer her a light, she took it has a kind gesture, it was too late in the evening to become sceptical; paranoia was the last thing she needed. He wasted no time to leave her; he said no words to her. A mere gesture of the light and after it was lit the man was gone. Although avoiding suspicion she gazed over her shoulder every other minute to make sure she was alone. She started to really think about what she was doing what she was going to go, and where she could live. She had written a plan on a note book, pink with yellow paper, something which she had found in a passing store in Berlin. Her next stop was Noorweick.
The air was warm. Her night had been plagued with nightmares of her killing, she was becoming stronger however. Her self esteem had risen from the dormouse she once was. She looked for a place to say on the coast of her new destination and found a hostel. If it weren't for the directions of the Internet site she used she would have never found the remote place. It was after the time she was meant to of arrived, she was panicking a little that she would have to wonder alone in the night. And something warned her not to stay out in the darkness for too long. Her body eased with looking at the ocean, the waves kicking at the shore, the bodies playing volleyball in the sand. After countless times knocking she almost gave up, but after a final knock someone answered. A boy in his late teens of early twenties, Alana wasn't too sure she was never the best judge on ages. It was only a year ago when all was normal that she had asked for ID of a thirty year old man who wanted cigarettes. The randomness of her thought made her laugh the male who stood in front of her had shaggy long hair and looked extremely relaxed where he was. His name was Julian, who said he lived in Grimsby, England before he had come there for a holiday which has lasted for four years. Julian took what she had of her belongings and placed them in her room. She spent the night talking with the staff and passing visitors. One of the other workers was Nova, an Australian girl who had long hair which was shaved to a millimetre from the side of her head. A bell rung, her body trembled, she was in shock. "Do they know?'' It was at this point that shots where handed round and every person in the room took a shot of a spirit including Julian and Nova. Alana followed suit, and throughout the night forgot the reason she was there at all. She was beginning to feel for the first time that she could belong. The culture was so different she felt like she had found an estranged family, all of them travellers reuniting for a once in a life time reunion. The drinks flowed throughout the night her mind became coherent for the first time in very long time. She became one of a group, a group which she followed a group which followed her. They all decided to play volleyball in the beach, her drunken body stumbling in her flat shoes which she somehow lost in the sand. She woke up the next morning on the sand; several other slumbering bodies were laid apart from one another, her eyes looking at stranger’s eyes, her life changing with every look and stare. It was this morning that she decided to stay there forever.
Years went by; Alana had given a false name to the people who lived there. But it was only a fake last name this time. Her life had normality about it, no one knew about her past except a few of her close friends. Even they didn't know the entire truth. It was a surprisingly cold morning when the door of the hostel gave a heavy bang, another went then a final before Nova opened the door to two large men in suits. ''We're looking for Alana Jacquin, we've been told that she was last sited around this area''. The men gave Nova a picture of Alana on her wedding day, Herald and her looked Naive and happy together. ''I... I'm sorry? No, I haven't I'm sorry I can't be of more help. Is there a number you can give, I can ask around the hostel, see if there's anyone...'' The men rudely stopped her "That's fine, whatever you can do to help, that's my card, good day miss'' The man had a British accent, Nova was unsure of exactly where, but her time around Julian and Alana told her it as definitely not from the north. Alana had changed in the past years, her hair was a new colour with every week, today she had it bright red, an after effect from her previous 'pink mood'. It was long, and to compare her with the Alana from years past would be difficult even for her parents. Nova told her everything, to Alana's surprise she discovered that both Nova and Julian knew about her past, everything. ''You need to do something Caramel; I don't know what to say....'' Nova's eyes swelled, she stopped has she saw Alana preparing herself to talk. ''I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, you understand, I couldn't bear another night with him. Not a day goes passed that I don't cry, that I feel guilt, that I feel sorrow. It was supposed to be perfect; when we first met he was my best friend. It was like we fitted together so well it couldn't of gone wrong. But it did, everyday that went pass was a day that we were killing each other. He wanted money success and a reputation for his promotion. All I wanted to do was earn enough to be comfortable. I became a slave with him, I hated him for it. Have you ever seen those cheesy old films where the women would make her man a meal and have it ready for when he's home, no questions asked. It was like that but worse. I lived a separate life from him. I became two people, till one day he hit me and I did it... I just did it. I was so scared I never wanted to speak of it again. Even with him abusing me and hitting me I just knew I'd be put away. I just ran Nova, I'm so scared I don't know what to do''. "Caramel, I understand. We want you here, we love you with are hearts and I don't want to see you leave. It was all over the headlines years ago, they reported everything. They had quotes from neighbours who heard screaming, and it was well known you were being beaten. We didn't say anything well, because we knew it would upset you. We should be sorry honey''.
Weeks then months went by, the men in suits were never seen again. The news reports claimed that she was missing and presumed dead. The main story that was believed was that she had woken up with her husband in a bloody mess and drove herself to her death. She couldn't work out why it was. There was no car, she had spoken to Heralds work the day he had died, it didn't fit. She looked at the name under the report, Robert Julian Francis III. ''Well I had to do something now didn't I. You see, my father, he was never one for government, politics or police. And when I told him that we had a mega attractive girl working for us he wanted to know more. It turns out he quite liked you, and don't worry he's happily married. I guess he heard about you being charged and he wanted to help. Luckily he's quite well respected and no one questions his sources, partly because he knows some powerful people and partly because his stories and mostly true. You're free dude''. Alana grabbed Julian, who she now knows as Robert Julian Francis IV a big slobbery kiss. She spent the night staring off into the ocean. The waves breaking across her toes, her ankles; as she was starting to cry fireworks flared across the sky, Julian and Nova running to her side. Alana was now missing and presumed dead, Alana had a new family, Alana had a new home, Alana was free.
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