I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Sixty-Six

I don't know quite where to begin. The particulars of the event are straightforward: Something woke me and the bedclothes of Catherine's side of the bed were thrown back. I reckoned she was in the loo and lie back down but when I realised there was no sound of water running I knew something was wrong. It was like the texture of rain that hangs in the air before the storm reaches you. The dogs were sleeping quietly and on the outside everything seemed to be normal, but the air was all wrong. I drew on my dressing gown and went downstairs and saw him. His back was to me and at first I couldn't tell what was going on. Then I saw the white of Catherine's legs in the moonlight and realised what he was doing to her. There was a high-pitched whispering sound that I only made out then—she was crying. Fear paralysed me until I saw him draw back his fist and strike her and whispering sound stopped. The next thing I knew I was behind him and I'd picked up a plaster statue on the way across the room. I swung it like a cricket bat and hit him with all of my strength. I felt something wet on my face and my hand showed it was blood. He fell over and off of her and I thought I'd killed him.

I dropped the statue and went to Catherine's side. Her white nightdress was ripped open at the chest and there was blood at her temple and other places. I knelt beside her and she didn't seem to be breathing. Suddenly, I realised my throat was quite sore and realised I was sobbing. I felt as if I'd been doing so from the time I saw him or perhaps from when I got out of bed, though I suppose I couldn't have done or else he would have heard me. The worst bit was that I didn't think I could stop. It seemed to be motivated by a force beyond my control. Then I wasn't certain if I really was crying anymore or if it was only in my head. I kneeled over her and brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead.

I gathered her up and carried her to the car. I should have dialled 999, I suppose, but my only concern was getting her away from him and to hospital as quickly as possible. As I placed her on the backseats a calm voice told me that I couldn't leave that man in our house. When I returned to the living room he was where he'd fallen; a substantial pool of blood had formed round his head. I was then certain that he was dead. I recognised him from the signing the night before. He hadn't taken his eyes off her for one moment. I also knew it was highly likely that I would go to prison for trying to protect Catherine. She had done nothing wrong and had been hurt again. What I had done was an accident, though I would certainly be banged up for it. That was unacceptable. The innocent should not be made to suffer when the child molesters and rapists spent a few years in prison and got out with new names and lives. Their victims didn't get new names or lives. They didn't get to start afresh under the banner of 'reformed'.

He would pay for everything that had happened to Catherine—everything I was unable to protect her from. Every nightmare and anxiety attack, every time she became frightened when I touched her. Every time she'd apologised to me for suddenly 'going away', as she called it when she suddenly grew cold for no discernable reason. That had happened less and less as time had gone on, but it still occurred occasionally and she felt guilt for it—for not being able to be normal. I assured her I wasn't upset or disappointed, but every time had been another seed of hatred for what that man had done to her—how he'd made her hate herself and her body—how she felt she wasn't good enough and irrevocably damaged. The thought occurred to me quite sensibly that I would bury him in one of the farthest gardens when we returned home from hospital. For the time being I couldn't bear the thought of him in our house for one moment longer and I dragged him by the wrists out the closest exit—the front door—and placed him behind a row of hedges.

I was about to go to the car when I realised the police would want to have a look around. I'd tell them he ran away and they'd have no need to come to the house. Oh, blast, they'd still want to see how he'd got in. I knew I was wasting time when I should have been taking Catherine to Casualty. I went inside and dialled 999. Once I explained what had happened and that the man had got away the operator said she was notifying the ambulance immediately. I retrieved Catherine from the car and put her where I'd found her.