Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Forty-Six: Ellis

My breathing is erratic as I slip through the side yard of the house, hoping to evade Millie from seeing me exit the guest house. Her returning with Beck is unexpected, as all my texts have gone unanswered. She's kept me from my son for a week now as punishment and hasn't made any attempts to update me on when they'll be returning home.

If they had returned home only moments sooner, they might've discovered the child pornography left scattered about the kitchen on full display. The photos left me aghast. Shocked by the graphic nature. I didn't know what they were for. If it was some shocking attempt from Reign to get my attention or her way of sending some fucked-up message. I didn't stare at the photos long enough to realize they were of Reign as a young teen. They were collected too quickly, as I had no desire to stare at them long enough to figure out what exactly they were.

I hadn't thought to bring something to protect myself from the rain. It's beginning to come down harder. Wind whipping past me as if they're attempting to help fill my lungs back up with air. The feeling of being trapped inside the closet resurfaced memories I thought I had moved on from. Though, I guess, stuffing my troubled past deep within myself and pretending it doesn't exist isn't very healthy. It was bound to resurface eventually. I can still feel the stuffy, smoke-filled air in my lungs. The stench of filthy living conditions. Unhealthy air from the factories, the oil in the streets, the polluted air. Seeing footsteps walk back and forth under the crack in the closet door, I yelled until my voice was hoarse, trapped in darkness with nobody coming to let me out. My stomach grumbling.

Reign confessed that she wouldn't care if her parents died. It was a relief to hear that from someone else. I daydreamed about my mother's death. Envisioning different scenarios in which it would happen. Pouring gasoline on her and dropping a lit match. Suffocating her in her sleep. Taking a bat to her head. Shooting her up with enough heroin to kill an elephant. I imagined similar scenarios for all her junky boyfriends and mates.

Standing on the front porch, I pace a few times, roughly raking my fingers through my wet hair. My shirt sticking to my skin. I get myself under control, stuffing down the emotions and memories before moving into the house. The telly is on in the sitting room, and a sudden nervous feeling washes over me. I remember the look of fear on Beck's face—the sadness in his eyes as they left the house in the middle of the night. He could barely look at me. It makes me hate not only myself but Millie as well.

I leave my shoes by the front before making my way towards the sitting room, where I find Beck curled up on the couch, knees pulled to his chest, as his favorite magician performs tricks on the telly. Millie is pulling her hair back into a loose bun while the sink runs, washing off the dishes. Her gaze glosses over me as I move swiftly towards Beck, sitting on the couch beside him.

He seems to curl more into himself in my presence, his eyes not moving away from the magician.

"Beck." I say, my voice quiet, wishing Millie wasn't in the room to watch our interaction and potentially intervene. "I missed you. How was your week? Did you have fun at your grandparents?" I'm desperately trying to get him to look at me. To show any sort of response. He didn't miss me. His normal happy, smiley self is gone, and he looks tired.

His shoulders shrug lazily, still no glance in my direction.

I move off the couch and sit on the coffee table in front of him, blocking his view, so he's forced to look at me. His eyes peer back at me, less childlike than before. A more seriousness to his demeanor that rattles me. I want the sweet boy to stay here forever. The one who smiles like his world is full of magic. Laughs like, despite the arguments amongst his parents, he still has joy and innocence in his heart. I don't want the realities of the world to take him yet. To drain him. To make him anything but a pure six-year-old.

A sharp breath escapes my lungs. "Beck, I'm sorry for how I left things with you and your mum."

"Ellis, he's tired. Leave him be." Millie says from the kitchen.

I ignore her remark, keeping my eyes focused on Beck, who slumps back against the couch, putting more distance between us. "Are you angry with me?"

He shakes his head, brown locks of hair tumbling into his eyes. "No, I'm not mad." He mumbles, and I'm relieved that his voice still sounds the same. Still his adorable toddler voice. I want to scoop him up and hold him tightly, shielding him from the world.

"Why won't you speak to me then?"

Rubbing his eye roughly, he tucks his legs under his bum and looks at me sleepily. "Dunno'."

The sleeve of his navy-blue Boston sweatshirt raises slightly, exposing skin above his wrist to me. My eyes laser in on the discoloration. Fading of a purple bruise. One that is days old by now. I reach for him, holding his small hand inside mine. He squirms slightly as I pull the sleeve of his sweatshirt further up his arm. Bruises shaped like fingers stain his skin. An instant rage bubbles up in me as I bring my face close to his. "Beck, how did you get these?"

"Ellis, please." Millie snaps from the kitchen, shutting off the sink. "Can you let him unwind? He's had a busy week at my parents."

Beck's eyes have fallen to his lap. I lean forward and kiss his forehead before standing from the coffee table and entering the kitchen. "He has bloody bruises on his arm, Mills." I hiss when I'm beside her.

She presses start on the dishwasher, then turns towards me with folded arms. "He's a kid, Ellis. I've already asked him about them. He ran into something at his friend's house."

"That's rubbish!" I narrow my eyes angrily. "I know those marks—"

"Please don't tell me you're insinuating that my dad left bruises on our son."

"He bloody well would." I run a hand roughly along my jawline. "He's gone a week at your parents, and he comes back sulky with bruises on him. You wouldn't even let me fucking contact him."

"Just because your childhood wasn't sunshine and rainbows doesn't mean people are out to get our son." She arches her eyebrow. "And of course, I wasn't going to let you contact him. You're lucky we even came back. As you can see, your son doesn't want anything to do with you, Ellis. Not after what he saw. You scared him. I'll take him away again, for good, if I find anything out."

I scoff. "You have no fucking right." My voice rises slightly, and I glance over my shoulder at Beck, who has turned his attention towards our conversation. I intake a heavy breath. "Stop using our son as a way to keep me where you want me. Do you even love me, Millie? Answer that honestly." My voice is quiet, drowned out by the TV.

She brings her face closer to mine. "Answer this honestly: where were you just now?"

My body stiffens. "What?"
"When we arrived home, where were you? Where did you come from?" She looks over my wet shirt and hair, which is nearly dried.

I swallow hard, my mind fumbling to come up with an excuse. I should've planned this out. Should have thought of one on my walk to the front. Instead of being lost in the past.

Millie speaks before I can. "When you can answer that question properly, that's when I'll answer yours." She sneers at me. "You're my husband. When I married you, I had no intention of sharing you. Ever. If you're willing to give up on us, fine, go ahead. I'll grant you a divorce, but only if you're prepared to lose your son as well as everything else. I'll leave you with nothing." With that, she brushes past me and moves over towards Beck, scooping him up. "Come on, the nanny is going to take you school shopping. Let's grab your rain boots."

My heart thuds in my chest as I watch them leave the room. I clutch the countertops tightly. Breath sharp. Jaw so tight it pops as I glance out the kitchen windows at the rain falling off the roof. The grass is growing muddy.

Fuck.

Angrily, I clench my fists tightly, then smack a glass off the counter, sending it spiraling into the wall, shattering into a bunch of pieces.