“What the hell are you doing in my laptop?” Alex snapped, towering over Eloise. She’d never seen him like this before…
Eloise had just come home from school and already caught the heavy stench of alcohol in the hallway. Loud snoring echoed from the living roomher dad was drunk again. She headed straight to the kitchen.
Her mum stood at the sink, peeling potatoes. Hearing footsteps, she turned. Eloises sharp eyes immediately caught the red, swollen cheek.
“Mum, we have to leave him. How much more can we take? One day, hell kill you,” Eloise said, fists clenched.
“Where would we go? Whod take us in? We cant afford rent. Dont worry, love, he wont kill me. Hes a coward. Only brave enough to hit me.”
The next morning, strange noises woke Eloise. She crept to the kitchen and saw her dad at the stove, head tilted back, gulping straight from the kettle. Hypnotised, she watched his Adams apple bob up and down, listening to the gross, sloshing sound as he swallowed. “Choke. Please, God, just let him choke,” she thought bitterly.
But he didnt. He set the kettle down, sighed in satisfaction, gave her a bleary-eyed glance, and shuffled past her to the bathroom.
Eloise grimaced, knowing Mum would refill that kettle without washing itstill covered in spit and the stench of him. She scrubbed it hard with a brush, swearing shed never drink from it without cleaning it first.
That winter, Eloise went on a school trip to Manchester. When she returned, Mum was in hospital.
“Did he do this?” she demanded, staring at the bandages around her mums head.
“No, love. Slipped on ice.”
But Eloise knew she was lying.
The constant blows had given Mum high blood pressure. Six months later, she had a stroke and died. At the funeral, Dad cried drunken tearssometimes mourning his “beloved Margaret,” other times cursing her memory.
He told Eloise she was just like her mum, threatening that if she ever tried to leave, hed kill her. She counted the days until she finished sixth form. Skipped prom. The next morning, she picked up her diploma in secret while Dad was at work, packed her things, and ran.
Dad gave her money for food, but she saved some. Sometimes, she even pinched extra from his pocket while he slept. It wasnt much, but enough to get by. Shed decided long agoshed work, study part-time, never look back.
She wasnt scared hed find her. Everyone in their estate knew his habits. No one would help him. She moved to London, rented a cheap flat on the outskirts, and got a job at a fast-food chain. They helped her get a food hygiene certificate, gave her free meals
She enrolled in a vocational college for accounting. When her bosses found out, they put her on the till.
Boys tried flirting. “Theyre all sweet at first,” Mum used to say. “Then they start drinking or cheating. Dont fall for the nice words, love. I was pretty once too. Your dad didnt drink when we met. We loved each other. What happened? What got into him?”
Eloise remembered and ignored the boys. Shed seen where that life led.
Payday meant stocking uppasta, cereal, tins, anything that lasted. Dad blew his wages on booze, but there was always food, even if it was plain. Now, Eloise did the same.
One evening, arms straining under a heavy bag, she nearly collided with a guy glued to his phone.
“Sorry,” he said, finally looking up.
She wanted to snap, but his warm smile caught her off guard.
“Salright, wasnt looking either,” she mumbled, forcing a smile.
The guyAlexoffered to help. Hesitant, she handed over the bag. No one with a smile that open could be bad. He walked her home (though she wouldnt let him near her door).
Next day, he “randomly” turned up at her work. They started seeing each other.
Alex admitted he was divorced, had a little girl he adored. Hed let his ex-wife keep the flat and was crashing at a mates. “Married too young,” he said. “We had nothing in common. Some days, we barely spoke.”
He talked about his daughter constantly, and Eloise thoughtmaybe she could trust a man who loved his kid. A month later, Alex suggested moving in together.
“Lets get a nicer place, closer to town. Easier with two incomes.”
She agreed, dizzy with hope. A proper family. They got a spacious flat, celebrated their new start. Alex talked about kidsa boy and a girl, no less. Eloise let herself believe it.
He paid two months rent upfront. By the third, his tone changed.
One last glance at the flat where shed dreamed of happiness, then Eloise shut the door firmly, whispering a promise to her son in the NICU: “Well be alright, my love. Well be far away from here.”
