Ok. So here we go. The sequel. It plays out 3 years from the last chapter of Hate This Place :)

I can't breathe. I wish Phil was here now. To save me, to hold me in his arms, to give me back the breath John has stolen with his anger, his revelations. I thought I knew men like this - I thought I'd spent my life being raised by one of the most cold and calculating men in New Jersey. And yet, here, I wish for my Dad.

Just for that one second, because he'd ward Jack and his boys off. Maybe that's why Jack hates me so much. Because, I'm not my dad. And Jack never got to bring him down. Even when they took me, beat me.

No-one can deny the flashes I see of my Dad in Phil; the charm, the nerve. And my darlin' wore them all down so much that night he favoured my life for his own - I'm frightened. I never thought I could be, but this ghost from our past. John, he's flipped; his hands tight around my throat, squeezing out my every breath, endangering my precious baby. Even as I screamed that I was pregnant, the madness in his eyes left me in no doubt that he didn't care, even if he did let me go, leaving me to choke and feel as though my neck was burnt. But there was breath in my body, my baby was safe.

But then, there is my darlin'. And John is not about to let him be safe. I hear it, I fear it, I know it. Because John thought he'd stolen him away before. He thought he'd done the job. John thought he had killed him. I could believe most things from men like this, but John, Jack they are... evil. I've been frightened that one day, our secret would be exposed..but putting it to the back of my mind in hope, that this day would never come. But here we are. It's happening. I thought we had escaped it. But they've found us. They know Phil is alive and well. And they are hell bent in destroying my lover, my husband, the father of my children...

My head buzzes, it aches. Phil is so much. I have nothing without him. But...

"Your old man is going to pay for this!"

And I know he means it. Because Phil, stupid, stupid darlin' Phillip was the one delighting in John and Jacks downfall. And it's all because Jack, like my Dad, is so painfully incapable of loving his child. I regret how long it took me to see sense and live my life with Phil. Because for these few sickening moments, I have been forced to imagine my life without him. And it's not a life, it's the most miserable blackened existence imaginable.

"Jack wants him out of his sight by New Year. Come midnight, you're gone, you understand?"

Johns tone is so savage, he doesn't need to voice the "or else." I knew it was there, I'm still shaking. I tried to say that Phil would never run, not now he has so much to lose. My baby stands his ground. But John dismissed me, said I should take the chance he was "offering". But there's no kindness here anymore. He comes out with it, like I could ever mistake his threat when I am actually this terrified.

"...otherwise those precious kids grow up without a dad."

I shove him away, running from the club, unable to bear how cold this place feels now. This was mine. There were memories sure, love too, but the walls are trying to crush me, I feel it. I can't breathe, my chest is so tight and my legs are so weak beneath me. I want to go home. I want to see my darlin', I want to hold him, kiss him, feel his breath on my face. Just to know that he's still here, with me.

This is all just a hideous nightmare. I'm going to wake up.

I'm going to wake up beside Phillip.

I am.

Any minute now...

Everything passes me by in a painful blur as I drive home like a maniac. It takes me an age to find my keys in my bag. I'm shaking so much I can barely keep hold of them to force them in the lock. Stumbling inside, grateful of the unanticipated warmth that swarms me, I struggle to raise Phils' name, as desperate as I am, because there is a huge, painful lump rising in my throat and choking me all over again.

"Phil?" I manage at last, frightened to realise how obvious that every emotion sounds as I speak. "Darlin', you here?"

Please... Please be here. I need you...

And to hear his voice drifting from the top of the staircase, out over my desperation, I sag, almost sick with the sheer relief.

"In the shower!"

"Oh... right, OK, don't worry!" I yell back, smiling anxiously. He's really here. He's OK. He's safe. Still with me. At last, my stomach, writhing painfully around in its own knots can relax a little.

"No, come on, are you joining me or what?"

And in spite of everything, just for that second, I smirk. And that in itself is so much like Phil. He's oblivious, so content - and I love him so much.

"Just... give me a second-"

I dare to enjoy being back in our home, surrounded by our things. I wander around the lounge and for the first, my smile is meant as my gaze falls upon our wedding portrait. Just like any other couple, it's pride of place in the room. Just like any married couple, we have our priorities. We put it next to the TV. Except, it isn't just the two of us. Because beside it, another frame, with three little faces smiling back. And leaning against the frame a small black and white photo. My hand flitters proudly to my stomach. When we brought back the scan picture from the hospital, Phil couldn't help but slide it into the corner of the photo, making a point of it being the 6 of us , Freya ten years old now, Polly seven, Josh three and this, our new baby at twenty weeks. Me, a smitten bride and mother, Phil, the father he longed to be. He always wanted a big family.

It was meant to be so perfect. So why does sadness creep so readily into the corners of my lips as I stare? Why am I so damn frightened? I thought, after Dad, after Phil coming back undetected, there was always a thought in my mind that there couldn't be any kind of threat to my family. And now John, Jack...they know. Everything.

Oh God, I hate so much that I've given in. That I stand here, weak enough to sob in terror. But I can't lose this, any of it. It's my life and I've waited so long. No-one can make me let go, for anything.

I almost scream as this shrill noise penetrates my misery. I whirl round so fast in accusation, I almost fall off balance. And I flush in embarrassment as I realise the intrusion is Phils' mobile phone. I glance in the direction of the stairs, biting anxiously into my lip as I count away the seconds, awaiting a reaction. But none comes and I guess that he just hasn't heard it above the thundering of the shower. But that's OK, because we trust each other right? With our lives.

With that thought, my hand is shaking so much that I almost knock the phone clear of the side. But somehow, I manage to cage my hand around it and read the screen, shuddering with urgency.

Calling...
Zack Mobile

Zack... yeah, Zack, her protector all those years ago. Working at the hospital, being present for Polly and Joshs' birth. Helping when it came to Pollys illness. A best man for Phil. A best friend to both of us. He was married now, happy.

"Hello?" I say, answering the call. "Phils' phone."

But no such greeting comes back. It's more, hysteria. Crying, whimpering, wailing and sentences that never get past that first choking syllable. Sympathy burns before I even know whose calling. Because my guess is it isn't Zack himself.

"They've killed him!" a woman screams, crying, so much, she's hoarse. "They've killed Zack! Phil! Help us! They've killed him!"