Have Your Cake by Elise K. Ackers

Author:Elise K. Ackers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing
Published: 2020-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

(Before)

Purple

Abigail was only free to leave the house when Mal left for work on Monday morning. Two whole nights and one full day, locked in with her abuser, had emptied Abigail of her tears. Now, alone at last, she went next door and asked to use her neighbour’s phone. Mal had confiscated her wallet, keys and phone immediately after he’d hurt her, and had yet to return them. He knew she’d leave the house today, but he’d ensured it was an inconvenience to. It was her punishment for speaking against him, he’d said.

She rang her mother on the unfamiliar phone with the hot pink case. Not because Marissa Mullins was likely to care for Abigail, but because Marissa’s was the only number Abigail had memorised. Abigail would have to do something about that. Especially because Marissa came to her rescue with poor grace. That kind of person didn’t deserve the compliment of someone remembering their number.

Abigail was sitting on the low brick fence in front of the house when Marissa’s aubergine Nissan Qashqai eased around the corner. Abigail had left the house unlocked in case her mother didn’t take her away from here, but even if she did take her away, Abigail would probably leave it open now. She didn’t care if the house was robbed. There was nothing in there that she wanted anymore. Everything was tainted. The paintings she’d loved had witnessed her incarceration. The rug she’d bought from Turkey had been behind her head when Mal had pressed his forearm over her throat, and it had still been there when she’d eventually regained consciousness. She’d hurled all the crockery at him, so there was also that mess to contend with. Which she had no intention of cleaning up.

The whole house could burn for all she cared.

He’d bent her arm over the back of a kitchen chair when she’d clipped his cheek with her favourite mug. She supposed he hadn’t broken it because it would have been evidence against him.

Sitting on the wall now, Abigail was not an exhibit of domestic abuse. Her neck and arm were unbruised, just sore. She was starving and exhausted, as she’d had no appetite and she’d feared sleep. She had nothing beyond her word. Against a man revered by the community.

Getting to her feet, Abigail waited by the kerb then pulled open the passenger door before Marissa had come to a stop. She dropped onto the seat without invitation, and pulled the door closed.

Bemused, Marissa’s fingers hesitated on the keys in the ignition. After a moment’s thought, she left the car running. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I need you to take me to the police station.’

‘What for, were you robbed? Is Mal okay?’ She craned her neck to see past Abigail to the house, then refocused on Abigail. ‘Why didn’t you just call the police? What am I doing here?’

Abigail waited out the questions, then repeated herself. ‘I need you to take me to the police station.’ A beat. ‘Mal attacked me. I can’t

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