I Will Not Run (15 page)

Chapter 20

Winter

Saturday, 23rd September

Dominic was over again today. I was sitting on that seat that circles our beautiful old walnut tree when I caught sight of him bounding my way, through the home paddock. I caught his eye and he waved like he was happy to see me but I could tell something was wrong. There was nothing relaxed about his stride. His body was too rigid. As soon as he got close enough for me to see his face properly, I knew that something was seriously wrong. It was one of those stomach-sinking moments.

“What is it honey?”

He gripped my hand and squeezed and attempted another smile but his grin came out crooked. He gave me that look you give when you’re trying to smile your way through tragedy. The hairs on my arms stood up.

He was being uncharacteristically quiet too. On the phone this morning, he said he had something to tell me. I hoped it’d be positive news, but from the way he was looking, I wasn’t in a rush to hear what he had to say.

He blurted it out. “I’m not coming back.”

“What?” There was a huge slimy fish swimming around inside my gut.

“Why not? What’s happened?” I wanted to jump up and down and scream and stomp and wave my fists but instead, I held everything in.

He slid his arm around my waist. I wanted to push him away, but at the same time, I wanted to pull him close.

“I think my visits are no longer helping you. Actually, I’ve realised that I’m doing more harm here than good. And because you won’t leave then I’m forced to do the only thing I can to protect you. I’m ending us for now. Hopefully this isn’t forever. But it is goodbye for now.”

I closed my eyes. I wanted to explain to him that I
was
doing something, something constructive to end my marriage, but it didn’t involve leaving. If I let him in on my plan, he’d only rant at me even more.

I’d come too far. At long last I was standing up to Bruno. I still can’t believe how much courage I’ve found. I wish there was a way to make Dom understand. No one had been able to stop Bruno so far, and I’ve found a way. Better than that, I’m making him pay for all the hurt he’s caused. Buttercup’s death has to bring about some good.

If I do tell him, what will he think of me? Drugging my husband up the way I am, it’s kind of like attempted murder. Best I don’t mention it.

Instead, I said, “But I love your visits. They keep me going.”

He rolled his head back, clearly torn. “See, that’s the problem. As much as I love coming to see you, all I’m really doing here is enabling you to stay, and I refuse to do that anymore.”

I took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve explained all this to you before. I can’t leave Bruno, because if I do, he’ll get away with murder.”

He snatched my hand, frustrated, almost angry with me. “If he is responsible for Buttercup’s death, then he’s already gotten away with it.”

I didn’t want to tell him more than I had to but if I didn’t do something right away, if I didn’t turn things around, then he’d walk out those gates.

I looked him straight in the eye, no hint of a smile this time. “Bruno takes a lot of steroids.”

“No shit!” He raised his sarcastic eyes.

“Listen.”

He caught my icy tone so lowered his eyes and waited quietly.

“Bruno’s using a silly amount. His heart, it wasn’t great before but you should see him now. When he gets agitated, his face burns because his blood pressure is at boiling point. His behaviour, it’s just plain crazy. He’s got ‘roid rage.”

“Great! How exactly is that good for you?”

“It’s a step forward.”

His dark eyes narrowed into points. “Oh, let me guess. You think he’s going to drop dead soon, is that it?”

I didn’t like admitting it, but yes, that was it, spot-on.

“Jesus, Winter, you’re gambling your well-being on something as random as a heart attack? You’re hanging around here, risking your life for something that is most likely
not
going to happen.”

I tapped my fist gently against my teeth and mumbled, not sure I wanted him to hear. “Sometimes you have to stand up for what you believe in. Sometimes you have to muster all your strength and stand up to bullies and not let them get away with it anymore. I should have protected my baby sister. If I’d never met Bruno, then Buttercup would never have met him either, and she’d still be alive today. It’s my fault, really. Don’t you see?”

He sighed, then reached up and touched my hair, patting me gently like I was a wounded animal. “I don’t see that at all.” He words were kind and meant to be soothing. “Winter, gorgeous girl, if Bruno is about to drop dead, then he’ll die with or without you here.”

“No,” I said, sliding away from his distracting hands. “That’s where you’re wrong. You see, you still don’t get it. Bruno won’t die without me because
I’m
the one who makes up his steroid capsules. It’s me.
I
decide how much he swallows. If I leave now, he’ll go back to single strength and live a long and violent life, and . . . well, you get what I mean.”

His face softened, falling into a smile. This was
not
the reaction I’d expected. I thought he’d pull away, and rant and rave and at the very least, look at me with disgust.

I saw none of that.

Instead, he scooped me into his arms and whispered next to my ear, “You don’t need to doctor his steroid tablets anymore. I have my own plan. It’s well underway already. Bruno will be locked up soon, don’t you worry. You’re going to be safe. Bruno’s about to get locked up for years, and that means he won’t be able to hurt anyone for a very long time. He’s about to pay.”

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around his waist and hugged tight. “I shouldn’t let you help. Whatever you’ve done, it sounds dangerous and illegal and like you’re risking your career for me. I know I should stop you but, I can’t. I won’t. I’m just so grateful.”

He shook his head, trying to dismiss my worries. “You and me, we’re just putting things right, that’s all. Maybe not legally, but we’re doing what needs to be done.”

I can’t tell you, dear diary, just how relieved I felt. We’ve never felt closer, Dominic and I, and that’s because we’re doing what needs to be done. Together, we’re doing the right thing.

“I love you,” I whispered against his neck. “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

“You too, kid,” he responded, kissing my cheek then moving his lips lower so that he could kiss my mouth. He traced my lips with the tip of his tongue and then kissed my upper lip, working his way over my cupid’s bow. I’ve never felt so contented or at peace.

“Partners forever,” I whispered.

“Forever and ever,” he responded, “No matter what happens from today on.”

“I love you so much it hurts.” That was all I got out. He swamped me then, scooping me up, kissing me with lips that were demanding and desperate. I was just as hungry. He kissed me long and forcefully, until I could barely feel my lips anymore, but I still needed more.

I gestured toward the old gardeners shed and ran, pulling him after me, his fingers laced through mine.

It was warm inside the tumble-down shed, a bit dusty but there were dark corners to hide in. As soon as that little door was shut, he tugged at my clothing. I helped him, as impatient as he was to get my clothing off, ripping away my jumper and tee, needing to feel his skin against mine.

There were windows in the front wall, small ones letting in weak patches of sun. I led Dom into the darkest corner, preferring the shadows. I had bruises all over my side and the last thing I needed right now was for Dom to see.

I peeled my jeans away, one leg after the other, and tossed the scrunched knot of denim at the wall. Dom placed his hand on my leg and closed his eyes, as if enjoying the feel of my bare skin against his palm. I leant into him, knowing that his fingers would soon discover the small scars on the top of my leg. His hands moved on, ever so gently, lovingly as if my scars didn’t matter, meant nothing to him.

He kissed me softly. Starting at my neck, his lips glided downward marking a slow trail towards my breasts. He pulled the pencil straps of my bra down over my shoulders and then unhooked the back fastener. Gently, he kissed each nipple, his tongue flicking back and forth. The sudden intensity of his tongue sucked the air from my lungs. Then his mouth moved on downwards and I wanted to scream,
get back there
but I let him go. He wound his way down lower still, kissing and nibbling at my delicate skin. He kissed the front of my knickers, before slipping his fingers just under the elastic. Then I forgot all about the bruises and marks on my body.

He murmured endearments, making me feel both protected and in danger. When he kissed me, his long, desperate kisses dissolved the torment and anguish of the past year, leaving me feeling weak and happy.

“Please,” I whispered because the muscles deep inside me had started to ache.

“No rush,” he responded, easing my knickers down. He trailed his fingers along the line of my sex, skillfully using his thumb. I cried out as the delicious feeling filled me with need.

“You’re so beautiful, Winter. Do you know how much I want you? How much I’ve always wanted you?”

His fingers delved deep. “You’re so sexy, and so gorgeous.”

“Dom.” I arched towards him.

He withdrew his hand and, seeing his own fingers slick from my excitement, he moaned, a deep guttural sound. He fumbled with his jeans, hurrying now, fighting to release himself. He flung his jeans and shorts in a heap over mine, then leant over me.

He was back at my mouth, kissing me with soft pillowy lips. He nipped at my neck, groaning against my skin. I could feel how rigid and swollen he was, his hardness pressed against my inner thigh. From the look in his eyes, he was close to losing control too.

I encouraged him inside me, needing to feel his solidness. And when it happened, I cried out and knotted my legs around his hips. He moved slowly, his youthful body rigid with longing. He was well built, muscular, yet so tender. I clung to him, my hips arching up, matching his movements. He moved faster, pressing into me, owning me, making me cry out and strain, my teeth locked together.

His hands clutched my breasts, his fingers rolling and enticing, whipping my desire into a peak. Heat lashed at my face and neck, rolling like a flood over my breasts. The tidal wave was coming for me, my body knew it and so it clenched, bracing itself, waiting for the wave to strike.

And then it hit. I screamed out, my whole body doused, the flames deep inside me licking, refusing to let up.

Dom’s fingers teased my nipples and the sudden nip of pain sent my body into an almighty second wave, shattering over his rigid form.

He tensed then and shuddered. The mingled sounds of our relief were loud and primal, and filled the earthy old shed.

“I love you, Winter,” he said between gasps, his hair damp and slick with sweat. He was shaking, exhausted from the strength of his climax, but he was smiling too, his cheeks pink with happiness and relief. I curled into him, the rich, wonderful rush of endorphins ebbing and flowing under my skin.

In the past, we’d fitted well together, but now, we were something special. My body responded to him in a way that it never did to others. Perhaps my heart recognised its true mate. Dom was
the one
, the only one for me. From now on, it was him or no one.

He knew it too. “We belong together,” he said. “We’re meant to be.”

I nodded.

We lay there for a long while after, promising each other a future, declaring our love, making plans we hoped we could keep. In our own way we were newlyweds. And it felt like, by joining together, we’d made a pact for life. In those moments I knew what it felt like to be truly happy.

We must have mucked around for an hour or more afterwards, pretending we had the world to ourselves. Bruno did not exist. But the longer the time stretched out, the more my old worries began to niggle their way back in. In the far recesses of my mind, I knew what would happen later that afternoon. Dom knew it too. We were putting off the moment when we would have to say goodbye. This wouldn’t be goodbye for good, just goodbye for now, until his plan or mine worked.

Dear loyal diary, what happens next is hard to write down. I will need to get a drink before I can continue to write any more. Perhaps a red wine will calm my nerves enough to let me go on. Perhaps I need something even stronger.

Chapter 21

Winter

Saturday, 23
rd
September (still)

I’ve poured myself a whiskey.
That’s better.
I’m going to jot the rest down now. I think I’ll feel better when my story is out, gone from me and poured onto paper. I’ll be cleansed, at least a little. So here goes:

Dom and I lay together, our limbs in tangles, enjoying that lovely skin-on-skin feel. The easy intimacy between us was like old times, or even better. Can’t tell you how good it felt to have that back, even for a short while.

Dom was ranting on about our summer road-trip, the one we took after school graduation eleven years ago. I remember the camping trip well because that was the first time I ever caught a fish, and it was fun in other ways too. He’s adventurous and sporty and a little crazy to hang out with.

Put the two of us in a car together on a long drive and we’ll play up, guaranteed.

“I remember that drive to the beach,” I said with a wink. We’d been in the car for a few long hours and I was more than restless. I wanted to be bad.

“Of course I remember that drive. I doubt I’ll ever forget it. That’s the only time I’ve actually done it while driving.” He laughed. “You sat on my knee and I couldn’t see a darn thing out of the windscreen.”

We were driving along a deserted stretch of road so, dear diary, it wasn’t as dangerous as it sounds, but it was hardly smart. We could have crashed into a tree.

“I could barely reach the accelerator.” He sniggered. “We weaved across the road and along the gravel verge, bumping our way down the road, do you remember that?”

I remember the road being dead flat, and dark and shadowy even though it was around mid-day. Thankfully, no one else was about.

Dom carried on reminiscing, drawing out the details, savouring every last drop, but I suddenly stopped listening.

I thought I heard something, a noise, a faint sound coming from outside the shed, so I turned away from Dom and cocked my ear.

It was nothing. Those silver birch trees brush against the south side of the gardener’s shed. The branches overhang and scratch the roof too. Why was I getting twitchy over common country sounds? Bruno was away, he was staying in Sydney for three whole nights. I needed to stop finding things to worry about. Enjoy the here-and-now. After all, this was the last time Dom and I would be together for a while.

I nestled into his chest. His body is not ridiculously big like Bruno’s. Dom’s got muscles and a broad chest from being actively involved in sport, whereas Bruno’s bloated form comes from a bottle. The difference is so obvious. Dom is lean and healthy too. I’m so in love with him right now.

It happened again, the noise.

This time, though, the rustle was different. Something hard and sharp, something with more substance than a handful of leaves was scratching or was it bouncing across our tin roof. A bird, maybe a magpie had a snail or a hard nut shell in its beak and was trying to crack the thing open. We’ve got so much wildlife out here in our rural corner of New South Wales. Sometimes it feels like we’re living in a wildlife park. That noise could have come from so many different creatures.

My face might have been pressed flat against his chest still, but I was no longer relaxed. Dom was babbling on but I’d stopped listening. Instead, I was focusing on the sounds outside.

That cracking noise I heard earlier, now it was coming from the walls rather than the roof, and it was growing louder too.

Scrap the magpie idea. That scratching sound was coming from a bigger animal. I lifted my head, but then the noise stopped. The creature must have moved on. Perhaps I’d just missed seeing a wombat shuffling about in the grass, banging its stocky body against the side of the shed. Those wombats are chunky animals, as big as pigs.

I looked down at Dom. He had his eyes shut, and his chest was rising and falling in a comforting rhythm. He pulled me back down, forcing my head against him, in and out, nothing to worry about.

Echidna prickles could have made that scratching sound too. Prickles dragging across a tin wall would be noisy, that’s for sure. Bruno insists that there is a whole family of echidnas living down here at the bottom of our property. If I rushed up now, and flung the door wide open, I’d probably frighten them off.

I pulled away from his chest. Dom opened his eyes and then lifted his head, so that he was level with me. He pressed his mouth against mine and I felt his lips part. Just like that I was drawn into the kiss. I couldn’t resist the surge of warmth, the wave of desire and the strength of my own hormones. Together, they blended and pulled me under.

And that was when the crash came.

Dom and I jumped so hard we banged together. Either a hunk of wood had broken off a tree and fallen onto the shed roof, or there was something out there, really out there.

We scooped up the pile of clothing we’d tossed against the shed wall. Four hands snatching bits, pulling away sleeves, untangling jumpers and jeans, searching for underwear. I fumbled with the hooks on my bra, my fingers clumsy, like fat sausages. The zip on my jeans was a problem too. I even struggled to right the sleeves on my jumper because I was suddenly so uncoordinated and panicked.

“It’s okay,” he mouthed, but I could tell he barely believed that. He took a deep breath, as if willing himself to be calm. Then Dom inched towards the little window and peeked out, making sure his body stayed well hidden behind the wall. He wagged his finger at me like he was a teacher telling me off. And he mouthed, “Stay right there,” but I had no intension of following that order. I dashed for the other side of the window and like him, peered out into our garden.

I couldn’t see anything at all. No movement. Nothing. There was no sound of any kind. He breathed out, a big sigh of relief. I think he must have felt silly, embarrassed even about getting worked up and rushing into his clothes because he turned and smiled and give me a goofy look.

“Panic over,” he said. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong. Something
is
out there.” I pointed at the grimy shelves behind us. The higgledy piggledy cabinets spilled with broken pots and rusted, dirty gardening tools.

“Get something,” I whispered, waving at the crusted forks and hand spades.

I chose a long handled digging thing for myself and suggested a sturdy metal runner-bean support for him. It looked like a decent enough weapon to me. But he brushed me aside, and moved towards the door.

“No, don’t do it, not yet,” I whispered, “don’t go out there, not without some way to protect yourself.”

“There’s no need.” He reached for the door handle.

I grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” but he firmly pushed me off and turned the handle.

“I think the police are here,” he whispered back. “I didn’t expect them so soon.”

I stared, wide-eyed. What was he talking about?

Seeing my puzzled expression, he said, “I think they’ve come to raid your house, while Bruno’s away in Sydney.”

What? He knew we were about to be raided and he didn’t think to mention it till now?

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s going to happen to you. You wait here and I’ll just sneak out and take a look.”

He inched the door open, the hinges moaning in protest. The tin creaked and groaned and announced to anything that might be lying in wait, that Dom was on his way out of the shed.

He poked the tip of his head through the opening. “Can’t see a darn thing.”

“Wait, take the fork please, just in case.”

Again, he brushed me off, stepping away from the safety of the four walls. He was outside now, properly outside. He walked past me, past the little shed window, heading for the back of the cabin.

My breathing was all over the place: erratic, short, staggered. I had a bad feeling about this.

Then it happened again. I heard that same crunching sound from earlier. And then I knew.

This was no police raid. I’d had enough experience of police raids by now to know that the police don’t creep around anywhere. They storm in, flooding the place with noise and men.

Perhaps I’d known all along what was out there but refused to admit it, couldn’t admit it even to myself. The ending. I’d waited long enough for it to arrive, and here it was. I’d willed the climax forward, got so tired of the game Bruno and I played, needed us to be over, and finally, here it was. I should be happy.

I wasn’t. That crunching sound from earlier hadn’t come from magpies or an echidna or a wombat. Those sounds didn’t come from sneaking policemen either.

I tried to yell, to warn Dom but just as I found my voice, a low guttural growl beat me to it.

“Dom!”

A salivary thick, jaw-hanging horrible sound gobbled through the silence. Bruno’s dogs. And then the sounds that followed were even worse because they came from Dom himself.

He screamed.

I wanted to drop, to hide, to huddle into a ball, to cover my ears, to shut it all out.

“Stop it, stop it,” I screamed, biting down on my lip, tasting my blood. I couldn’t hide, though. I badly wanted to, but I couldn’t let myself fall into a cowardly ball. I raised the gardening fork. Then I pushed on the door handle and stepped outside.

It was so hard to step forward because every muscle, every tendon, every pore in my body was screaming,
Go back in
.

“No, Winter,” Dom yelled, somehow knowing I was coming after him.

I heard the dogs again, heard their jaws working, and almost heard their saliva dripping onto the grass.

“Dom,” I yelled back, taking forever to reach him, like I was wading through treacle.

I will have to live with what I heard next.

Dom cried out, and he gasped and grunted as he fought them off, trying to stay alive. There is nothing worse than the sound of human agony.

I watched the top of his head, his beautiful black wavy hair being tossed and pulled and rolled about, then slowly being dragged away.

They were taking him now, the dogs pulling him by his legs, dragging him around the corner and away from me.

“Get-the-gun.” Dom forced out those three words, and I could hear the effort it took, hear the strength those words took to say. The gun. It must be in his carry-all bag in the shed. We hadn’t used it today. I didn’t know that the gun was even in there.

That was the last thing he said, the last sound he made. For a second I couldn’t move. I stood rooted to the spot, freaking out, thinking it was the last time I’d see him alive. That image would stay with me forever. I’ll see it in the dark when I close my eyes-his dark curls matted with blood and his head being slowly inched away.

I tried to retrace my steps back into the potting shed, forcing my legs to work. It was like moving through sludge, like everything worked in slow motion, like wading through quicksand.

It took a ridiculous amount of coordination and strength just to slam the little shed door closed. I stood behind the tin, breathing jittery breaths with no rhythm, too little air. I ordered my body to move again, to do something, to not do this, to not seize up with fear.

I spotted the old steel toolbox lying in the corner and dragged it in front of the door barring the way in, shoving it hard against the tin door using strength I didn’t know I had. I couldn’t rest though, as desperately as I needed to.

“Get the gun.”
That’s what Dom had said. I didn’t want to but I had to. I couldn’t lie down and die. Couldn’t let the dogs tear Dom to bits.

I snatched his carry-all but the zip stuck and wouldn’t undo properly. Struggling, fighting to get it open, the zip giving only an inch before catching and seizing again. At least I had a gap big enough to squeeze my hand into.

I felt it coming, my phobia. The panic came for me like a tornado. And as it hit, I heard a terrible sound, a high screechy wail and thought it was Dom until I ran out of breath and realised that the scream was me. I wanted to die then, quickly, more than anything. Why did I push that super-heavy metal box in front of the door? Now I wanted the dogs inside. I wanted it over.

Somehow I had the gun in my hand but I couldn’t stand straight, couldn’t see through my tears. The room was swirling, and I staggered, stumbling toward the door, trying to get out of the shed before I slipped and blacked out on the concrete. The tool kit, so big, so darn heavy and I was weak now, everything tingling and just not enough air. The lights faded and it went dark, like an eclipse. I couldn’t even see the door or the handle, and felt close to passing out.