Down London Road

staring blankly at the television, vacillating between walking into my mother’s room and smothering her with a pillow and just packing Cole’s and my bags and running for it, hoping that Mum’s threats were empty. At a sound behind me, I blinked and turned around. Nothing was there.
    I thought I’d heard the front door open.
    Now I was going crazy.
    Exhausted by the tumult of emotions I’d gone through in the last twenty-four hours, I flopped back against the couch and closed my eyes. I needed to shower and change, but I was afraid to move towards my mum’s room. I was afraid that passive old me was about to lose my cool – big time.
    A while later, the worst happened.
    Mum’s door creaked open and I sat up, my muscles growing taut as I watched her appear in the hall. Her hair was all over the place and she was clutching her fuzzy pink robe around her as she shuffled into the kitchen holding an empty bottle and a mug.
    Blood whooshed in my ears as my body stood up with no command from me to do so. It was as if I was stuck inside my head but no longer in control of what my limbs did. With my heart slamming against my ribs, I followed her into the kitchen.
    She turned at the sounds of my footsteps, and leaned against the counter, putting the mug down. Her smile was weak as she said, ‘Hi, sweetie.’
    Looking at her, all I could recall was the utter humiliation I’d felt at the hands of my father with his quick fists and hateful words. I lacked any self-worth because of that man.
    How dare she try to do the same to Cole – try to undo all I’d done to protect him from ever having to feel that way? It was a singular kind of pain to have your parents find you worthless, find you so unlovable that they could hurt what nature told them they should protect. I’d never wanted Cole to feel that pain …
    … and this bitch had gone and done it.
    With an animalistic cry of deep, gnawing rage, I flew at her. My body slammed hers against the counter, her head snapping back against the upper kitchen unit, and I took satisfaction in her wince of pain.
    How does it feel? How does it FEEL?
    My hand reached up to grip her loosely but threateningly by the throat and she stared into my face with round, appalled eyes.
    I leaned into her, trembling from my reaction, shaking with betrayal.
    Yes, betrayal.
    She’d betrayed us for gin.
    She’d betrayed me by hurting what I loved most.
    I sought to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly, and I flexed my hand around her throat. ‘If you ever …’ I shook my head in disbelief. ‘If you
ever
touch Cole again … I will kill you.’ I pushed against her. ‘I will fucking
kill
you!’
    Her eyes flared and she nodded rapidly, gulping in fear. I glared into her eyes, somehow unable to remove my hand from her throat.
    I felt a touch on my arm. ‘Jo?’
    Slowly but surely, the world came back to me and I shuddered, relaxing my grip as I turned to my left.
    Cole stood at my side, the colour leached from his face, staring at me as if he’d never seen me before.
    Oh, God.
    I looked over his shoulder only to find Cam standing in the kitchen doorway, his expression grim.
    Oh, God.
    When I turned, Mum was cowering against the kitchen counter.
    What am I doing?
    Shame flooded me … and I ran.
    I flew past Cole, pushed past Cam, ignoring him as he called out to me. Throwing myself out the door, I hurried down the stairs in my bare feet, not knowing where I was going, just knowing I had to get away from the person I’d just become in that kitchen.
    Something gripped my arm, wrenching me to a stop.
    Cam’s face blurred before me, and I pulled away from him, trying to escape, but his arms seemed to be everywhere. I struck out at him, grunting and swearing at him, and the more I struggled, the more soothing his voice became.
    ‘Cam, let me go,’ I pleaded, exhaustion draining the strength from my limbs. ‘Please.’ The sob broke before I could stop it, and then I was crying, my hard, pained, loud, tear-filled cries muffled quickly against his throat as he enfolded me in his warm arms.
    I fell against him, letting him hold me, my tears soaking his T-shirt and his skin as his arms hugged me tight against him.
    ‘Let it out,’ he whispered comfortingly in my ear. ‘Let it out.’



11
    In their own time my jagged tears stopped, and my breathing became easier as Cam’s body heat and strong embrace provided a balm against the pain I was in.
    It occurred to me that