2.

 
As Grey Matthewman laid asleep in the cold car that morning, Heather Jackson had woken early.

            Call it subconscious intuition or something else, but whatever it was, it told her that she had to get out of that warm bed.

            Heather threw over her dressing gown heading out of the bedroom door. It was just after 5am and the blaring traffic, along with the rustle and bustle outside her third-storey window indicated the city was ready to rise and shine.

            Brewing a pot of coffee, Heather stood at the open window, watching the city below slowly come to life. Business-like people started to roam in all directions, off to their nine to five jobs.  Her reflection stared back from the glass, telling her what she had already started to suspect of late.

            You look like shit! Get that long brown hair cut and for the love of Christ, moisturise underneath those big puffy brown eyes.

            At 6:30, Heather turned off the breakfast show relaying the depressing news and swept her hair behind her ears, walked to the bedroom door and hit three resounding knocks.

            ‘Hey, sleeping beauty, time to get up for school,’ Heather said from behind the closed door.

            Behind it, her fourteen-year-old daughter Victoria mumbled something under her breath.

            ‘What was that you said?’ Heather asked, ear still pinned against the wood. ‘And if I find you on that phone of yours, I’m going to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.’

            Again, Victoria mumbled something under her breath that Heather couldn’t hear followed by the sound of her rolling over.

            Heather smiled and said: ‘I’ll put you some breakfast on. If that skinny butt of yours isn’t dressed and ready in ten minutes, then I’ll be back with a bucket of water.’

            Back in the kitchen, Heather heated up the frying pan with oil and mixed up some eggs with milk, salt, and pepper. She then clicked down four slices of whole meal bread in the toaster and started to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

            Victoria came out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas. She yawned rubbing her eyes and had tied her dyed green hair in a bun.

            ‘You know, I’ll be happy when this punk phase of yours is over,’ Heather said.

            Victoria gave her mum a sarcastic smile sitting down at the breakfast bar.

            ‘You know, we could do with a bigger kitchen, this one is too small,’ Victoria said.

            Heather grimaced, ‘too small for the two of us? Well, when you get a job, you can buy us one, huh?’

            Pouring in the egg mix, Heather stirred slowly studying her coming of age daughter watching some nonsense on social media.

            Heather said: ‘I know I ask a lot from you, you’ve been through a lot, more than most. I hope you’re happy with us still being that twosome.’

            Victoria yawned again, ‘no choice, unless you shack up with someone else?’

            ‘That’s not on my to-do list.’

            ‘Shame, I could do with a bigger house with my own en suite bathroom.’

            Heather smirked.

            You and me against the world.

            ‘Do you miss him?’ Victoria asked.

            Heather took a beat and shook her head, a frown smeared across her eyebrows.

            The toast popped up, making Heather momentarily jump, breaking from thinking of him.

            ‘Butter me that, would you please?’ Heather said, still thrashing the eggs around in the pan.

            Victoria used all her idle might to stand, grab the knife and dig it in the plastic pot, digging out thick yellow butter and smearing it generously on the toast.

            Heather said: ‘You have his eyes, you know, big blue eyes.’

            ‘What happened, mum?’

            ‘I’ve told you.’

            Victoria shook her head, ‘no, you’ve told me bits and Nan has told me bits. Come on, tell me what happened to him.’

            Heather sighed, ‘well, one day he went to the shops, and he never came back.’

            ‘Yeah, that’s the part you told me before. I’m fifteen now, I can take the truth.’

            Heather laughed. ‘You’re fourteen and I know you can take it. When I figured out that he wasn’t coming back, I called the police, reported him missing. They found him the same day at his mother’s place, so I asked what the hell was going on.

            ‘The police just gave me a letter he’d wrote. It said that he wasn’t ready to be a father and that he’d made a mistake. I went to bag up his clothes, but the wardrobe was empty,’ Heather said laughing. ‘Although, he had left his favourite Oasis album. I swear, you can have lots of fun using a record as a Frisbee, especially when it lands in the river.’

            There was a certain pleasure seeing that priceless item wash away. It was just like Carl, fading away into the murky abyss, out of our lives forever. You broke my heart, Carl. I won’t let you do the same to Victoria.

            Victoria held up her plate as Heather scraped the egg on top of the moist toast. Placing it down carefully, Victoria squirted tomato ketchup in a Zigzag shape on top of the eggs, something which made Heather nauseous as she detested sauce of any kind.

            ‘So, he didn’t want me?’ Victoria asked chewing.

            Heather sighed, ‘he didn’t want us. He was a coward honey, and we’re better off without him.’

            Victoria just gave a mumble, still preoccupied with her breakfast. Heather made them both fresh coffee and headed to the shower. Those warm droplets hit goosepimply skin and felt unrivalled. She could have stayed in there for hours, just feeling the warm touch of the water against her body like a courteous lover.

            Out of the shower, Heather dried, pulled on fresh trousers and a white shirt, making her feel a little human again.

            Once dressed and make-up applied, she went back to see if Victoria was finally getting dressed for school. The empty plate harbouring toast crumbs, remnants of egg and smeared ketchup suggested she was.

            ‘Victoria, you nearly dressed?’

            ‘Working on it,’ came the distant reply from behind the bedroom door.

            ‘You better move it if you want a lift to school.’

            It was just after eight o’ clock when Heather’s phone rang on the kitchen counter.

            Victoria shouted from her room: ‘I’m gonna’ stick that where the sun doesn’t shine.’

            It made Heather smile.

            Heather picked it up seeing the name in big black letters: D. AWOLI.

            She swiped green answering: ‘David?’

            ‘Heather, you all right, where are you?’

            ‘I’m still at home, getting Victoria ready then heading off to the station in a minute, what’s up?’

            Out of breath, David said: ‘No, not the station, come down here, straight away.’

            Heather shook her head, ‘where is here?’

            ‘Ravenswood.’

            It’s amazing how one word or place can bring back so many sharp memories that should be locked away.

            Ravenswood. The place that she couldn’t escape, the place that kept haunting her with every passing year.

            A year … has it been that long already?

            She felt dank and nicotine infused breath fill the air around the apartment.

            No … no … don’t bring that bastard back in to your mind, Heather.

            Hoping she had misheard, she asked: ‘Ravenswood?’

            David sighed on the end of the line. ‘Heather … I’m sorry to do this, but … George, he told me to call you. It’s … it’s happened again.’

            Heart skipped a beat, ‘Again?’ she asked.

            ‘Just come straight-’

            ‘David, what’s happened?’

            Another sigh from the end of the line, ‘it’s not good, Heather.’

            Rubbing her head, Heather reluctantly said: ‘I’m on my way.’

            Jelly legs threatened to topple her over as she hung-up and placed the phone back on the kitchen counter. She closed her eyes, steadying herself on the kitchen side, gaining some composure.

            Again?! … Please, this can’t be happening … not again.

            Victoria came out of her room, finally dressed.

            ‘What’s going on? What are you shouting about?’ Victoria asked.

            Heather, still distant, deep in thought fell into autopilot and said: ‘It’s fine, are you all right to take yourself to school?’

            Victoria shrugged, ‘sure, it’s not like I haven’t done it before.’

            ‘I’m sorry, just something’s come up at work.’

            ‘All right, is everything okay, mum?’ Victoria asked.

            Ravenswood … Mia Matthewman … it’s happened again … nothing will be all right sweetheart … not until I find who did this … again!

            Heather wanted to tell her daughter the truth, but how do you tell a fifteen-year-old that real monsters exist? And sometimes, these monsters get away with the cruelest of acts.

            Ravenswood. The place from her childhood, a place she should had left in the past, it kept its deep-rooted grip around her.

            The mere thought of that place sent a sharp dagger down her spine, it always had.

            Instead, Heather hugged Victoria tight and lied: ‘Everything is fine, you have a good day at school.’