Safe

"Hard to find a way to get through
It's a tragedy
Pulling at me like the stars do"

The house isn't like I remember it anymore.

The past always gets engulfed by the present eventually and it's something we cannot prevent.

A bright light once flickered inside this house but it's died along with the happy memories made inside it. How I miss those days when we would all cram together on the tiny sofa and laugh at the photo albums spread out upon the rug. We had so many of them and there were so many blank ones just waiting to be filled but they never got a chance to have photos slipped inside them. Rarely do the albums get taken out of their shelves, dust gathering atop their covers but when they do get a chance to crack open their spines, where tears once flowed with laughter and joy there is only sorrow and guilt in their place. How I wish that would change…

"Mommy…" a small tug on my nightdress pulls my gaze away from the house and I look down into the blue eyes of my child, the girl whose smile could either break hearts or melt them. That's what her father used to say whenever he made her laugh all those years ago…

"Why are we here? I thought we weren't allowed to come here anymore." Her eyes are shine with fear and excitement, the moon reflects back as she gazes over towards the house which was once her home. She takes a step forward, nervously looking over her shoulder to see if I am going to hold her back but when I nod my head she gives me a sad smile and runs up the steps through the door.

Inside nothing had changed; I might have just gone out to the shops or returned from a visit to my mother's house. The differences were only enough for someone who had lived there to recognise otherwise they would merely go unnoticed. I can hear Charlotte singing in the hallway and I remind myself that we shouldn't be here anymore. Our worlds are not meant to cross each other.

"Sweetheart," I hurry up the stairs and kneel down to look into her eyes, "we need to go now. Come on, lets go to the park and we'll have a walk around, okay?"

"But Mommy," she struggles on her words, not sure whether to say them or not and I brush her cheek softly to comfort her. She's grown to understand we cannot live here anymore not only because we can't be seen but also because Daddy needs to move on with his own life…only we can't until he lets the memories of us go. For her sake, I wish he would let go then maybe she would be happier than she is now. His sorrow is our sorrow, and the greater it becomes the longer we remain here. I don't want to leave. I'd do anything to feel the wind on my face once more or a taste of freshly baked butterscotch shortbread straight out of the oven but I can't…and I've accepted that.

"Okay," she smiles at me, takes my hand away from her face and holds it tightly in her own, "we'll go to the park…after we've seen Daddy."

I take a deep breath and sigh, closing my eyes as my body relaxes inwardly but no air passes my lips. It hasn't for a long time.

"Sweetheart, we're really not supposed…" but my voice trails away as I look into her eyes and see myself in them, eager to see him just as much as she is. We have looked from afar, never daring to get too close, but seeing as we're already breaking so many rules already…why not go all the way?

"Okay we'll go and see Daddy." I smile sadly as she jumps up and down excitedly, running eagerly towards the stairs but she stops at the bottom and waits for me to follow. As we climb, my one hand clutching the banister while the other joins the two of us together and I begin to wonder why we haven't done this sooner. This whole process might have been easier for Charlotte to accept instead of getting angry and upset over questions I struggle to answer.

He's lying on a mattress squashed into the corner of the room and looks like he's having trouble sleeping, tossing and turning then settling down only to repeat the performance again. He looks awful. Still wearing his day clothes, which are crumpled and dirty looking, there are bags under his eyes and he looks a lot older than he should be for a man his age. I step closer to the tiny bed and kneel down next to Charlotte, who looks scared and fascinated by the man who once kissed her every night before she went to bed.

"Is Daddy sick?"

She turns to look at me and I know that tears would be flowing down her cheeks by now but only her lip is trembling as she reaches for my hand and leans in to rest her head on my shoulder. We sit in silence and watch him restlessly toss and groan. Each thrash of his arms causes Charlotte to cower deeper into my breast and I clutch her closer to me.

"Is Daddy sick?" I haven't answered her question because I don't really know how to respond. Should I lie to her? Twist the truth? Surely she must know, she may have died young but she's old enough to know that it's because of us he's like this. I once knew him as a fool in love but he is now just a fool. A fool who cannot let go and move on with his life. A fool who refuses to find pastures new and turn over a new leaf. The guilt still clutches onto him like a bloodsucking leech, dragging him down whenever the thought of a new future crosses his mind.

"No sweetheart, he's just…" I try to think of something realistic yet comforting, "…he's just had a bad day at work. You know he works with the police now so he sees a lot of bad things."

We didn't watch him because it was better for us that way but over the years we couldn't resist checking up on him to see how he was doing. He works alongside the CBI but on the sidelines he is constantly chasing after our killer, the 'Red John' man, but he had changed in so many ways we decide to stay away. We need to move on as much as he does.

I notice the weight on my breast lift and realize that Charlotte has lifted her head, leaning over her father's face with her hair almost brushing his chin.

"Look Mommy, I think he's better now! He's stoppe moving about!" she whispers, forgetting that he cannot hear us, but she has a smile on her face again. She begins to crawl back over to me but forgets she is closer to the mattress than she thinks.

She brushes his hand.

Immediately his eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright gazing around the room like a madman. Carelessly I whisper 'Jane' and feel myself crushing inside as he looks right through me and continues to gaze wildly around the room. I knew this was a mistake. We should never have come. I grab Charlotte by the hand and before she can protest we disappear into the night, leaving Patrick to lean his head back against the wall and fight back the tears in the his eyes.

Author's Note: Eep. Writing in the first person is difficult when it's a character I don't know!
Each chapter title represents a song~ Please leave reviews on what you think, if it's not that good I'll just delete it :)

Westlife - Safe