((Trigger warnings for PTSD, panic attacks and fear))
Two weeks later
"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Celia asked as she pulled on her coat. "What are you going to do here all by yourself?"
"Mum," Selene sighed in that way all kids had no matter how old they were. "I'll be fine, stop worrying. I'm just going to have a bath, make myself a nice hot chocolate and then curl up in bed with a book. The perfect quiet night in."
"Well," Celia hesitated again, her hand on the front door handle. "If you're sure."
"I'm very sure," Selene promised. "You two go and have a lovely time, give Elaine my love."
"Adam is staying the night at Tyler's so he won't be home," Celia warned her, still talking as she wound a scarf around her neck to keep out the chill that had come back with vengeance.
"I'm a big girl, I can stay by myself," Selene argued. "It's not like I've never been alone before."
"Fine, fine, I know when I'm beaten." Celia checked her watch, scowled at the time and turned to yell up the stairs, "For God's sake, Rufus, hurry up!"
"Hold your horses, girl, I'm coming," Rufus called back. A soft thump-thump followed his words as he dropped his shoes to the floor, then the soft creak of the bed as he sat down to put them on. Selene didn't need to see it to know exactly what he was doing, she'd watched him do it a million times before, but it was comforting to know that no matter how long it felt like she had been away, some things never changed.
"If I hold on any longer the party will be over!"
Her father's soft chuckle echoed down the stairs and Selene smiled along with him. One thing she loved about her father was his ability to take her mother's ever-changing moods in his stride. He never got angry at her, he never took them as a personal attack, he knew she did it with the best of intentions so he just accepted that it was her way and let it wash over him.
The bed creaked again as he got up and she heard the wardrobe door open and then shut again. Her father emerged on the landing, straightening his tie. "There, I'm ready." He made his way down the stairs and stopped at the bottom, spreading his arms to show off his shirt and tie. "How do I look?"
Celia gave him a quick up and down. "Not too bad, but where's your jacket?"
"In the wardrobe where I left it, I don't want to wear that thing."
"You aren't going out without it, what will people think?"
"They'll think that I wanted to be casual?"
"No, they won't." Celia huffed out an exasperated breath. "Stay there, I'll get it for you."
"I think you look very handsome, Daddy," Selene said as Celia thumped her way back up the stairs to retrieve the oh-so-important suit jacket.
"Thanks, Kitten," Rufus said, bending to drop a kiss on the top of her head. "We won't be late home."
"I know, I'll be fine. Honestly, I'll probably enjoy the peace without Mum trying to arrange my life for the next ten years."
"No amount of peace will stop that," Rufus teased, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Oh, guess it's showtime."
Celia arrived back in the living room, his jacket held out to allow him to slip his arms in. She smoothed down his lapels and picked a bit of invisible lint off the sleeve before declaring him free to go.
"Bring me back a slice of cake," Selene instructed as they waved goodbye, breathing a sigh of relief as the door shut behind them. She loved her parents, but her mother had a tendency to try to organise every aspect of her families life and, although Selene understood and appreciated that she worried, she had spent the last three years with someone that had decided everything for her, from the food she ate to the clothes she wore, and she was sick of it. She knew that her mother didn't mean anything by it, it was just her way of trying to help, but for Selene, who craved the freedom that she had been denied for so long, it was almost stifling.
"Bathtime," she announced to no one, pausing for a moment to enjoy the fact that she didn't have three people shouting back in answer. "Bliss."
Now to find the perfect book, the perfect playlist and enjoy.
-x-
Two hours later
Thunder rumbled overhead, warning of a storm incoming. Screw the bath, Selene thought, dragging her eyes from the bookshelf to look out the window as the first few drops of rain pattered against the glass. She could have a shower after to warm up. This was more important.
If there was one thing Selene loved to do more than anything, ever since she was a child, it was to dance in the rain. Especially if there was a storm raging overhead. The energy in the air had always felt electric to her, she could feel the shifts in the atmosphere, feel the ancient power radiating down from above. They invigorated her and made her feel connected to the universe, alive and free. Nathaniel, of course, had never let her do it, it was too weird, too out of the ordinary. But then, that was her all over.
Tonight she could stay outside as long as she wanted. She wouldn't have to pretend to have been caught out in the rain just so she could have five minutes to herself. Now he wasn't there to stop her. She could dance around to her heart's content. It would be one more item to tick off the list, one more thing that he'd banned her from doing that she could reclaim, taking back a little bit of her old self. She would let the power of the storm wash away the nastiness that he had left her with and emerge feeling cleansed and restored.
At least that had been the plan. She'd waited until the rain had started lashing at the windows, thrown full force by the howling wind that accompanied it. The first flash of lightning lit up the room and that was her cue. She raced for the front door, refusing to hide away in the back garden, wanting to be in full view of anyone that might happen to glance out of their window at that precise moment. She was done hiding who she was and what she believed in. She'd act how she wanted to and no one would tell her otherwise ever again.
The night was perfectly dark apart from the pools of yellowy light that came from the streetlamps and the occasional flash of lightning that lit up the sky. The rain clouds overhead hid the stars and the moon from view but she knew they were up there, she could feel them just as surely as she felt the powerful pulsating energy of the storm rolling around her. She'd never understood why she felt such a connection to things that were out of her reach, like the stars, but now her inner witch, the one that had been denied and hidden for so long, smiled in recognition.
This was her, this was who she was always meant to be. She stepped out from under the cover of the porch and almost instantly the rain plastered her hair to her head. Her T-shirt went next, soaked in seconds it stuck like a second skin, as did her leggings. It was freezing cold out there but she didn't care.
Letting out a happy little whoop of delight she lifted her arms, raising them to the heavens as if she could grab hold of the power and drag it down into herself. She spun once, twice and was about to go for a third when she stopped, the feeling of impending doom flooding through her once again.
He could be out there right now, a little voice whispered in the depths of her mind. He'd know she'd want to run outside the moment it started thundering, she always did. He could be waiting for her, waiting to grab her at a time when all sensible people would be inside, their curtains closed against the raging storm.
If he took her now there would be no one to see it happen. No one would know where she had gone or what had happened to her. She would be completely at his mercy and there would be nothing she could do about it. The way he'd treated her before she'd kicked him out and run away had been bad, but now he had even more reason to punish her. He'd do everything in his power to break her. She'd never get the chance to escape again.
Calm down, she instructed. You don't even know if he's here.
She pushed the wet hair back from her face and searched the darkness. Her eyes scanned the immediate area, from one side to the other, looking for anything that might be out of place but the storm made it impossible to see anything more than a metre in front of her face. If he wanted to hide it would be easy to do so.
Thump, thump, thump. Her heart hammered in her chest, the coldness of the rain and the realisation that she might not be as alone as she had thought making her breath catch in her throat.
What did that car look like? All she could remember about it was that it was dark grey and ordinary looking with nothing fancy or distinguishing about it. Truthfully, she hadn't even noticed it until he had called out to her.
As expected on a cold, wet night like this, all sensible people were at home and almost every car parking space was filled. The darkness made all the dark-coloured cars look black, making it impossible for her to tell them apart. He could be sitting in any one of them, watching her, judging her. Waiting for his moment to strike.
What was she doing out here when he could be there too? It had only been a week since he'd shown up and attacked her and Adam, who knew how often he'd been there before that and how many times since? Had he been stalking her the entire time? He had to have been watching the house to be there the exact moment she came out.
The night, which just a few moments before had seemed so magical and welcoming now felt menacing, threatening. The dark which had felt so calming hid dangers that she wouldn't see coming until it was on top of her.
She wanted to wait it out, to be brave and stand her ground but all she could picture were the shocked looks on her parent's faces when she'd herded Adam through the door with a bleeding nose. Luckily it hadn't been broken too badly and it has been easily set by the doctor at the hospital. Celia had gone mad, of course, phoning the police and screaming that they needed to do something about that man, but apart from arresting him for a day, there had been little they could do but warn him off before releasing him on bail.
He'd be angry with her now, angrier than he had ever been. He hated to be made to look bad, even if it was his fault, almost as much as he hated to be proven wrong, something she apparently did at any given opportunity if his many rants and accusations were to be believed. But this time she'd done it publicly, she'd gotten him in trouble and he'd never forgive her for that. He'd come for her, again and again, he'd never leave her alone so long as he knew where she was. He'd wait for a moment when she was alone and he'd 'make her sorry', just as he had every other time she'd embarrassed him in some way or another.
She reached blindly behind her for the door handle, numb, wet fingers fumbling as they tried to grip the wet metal. Eyes darting here and there, imaging a hundred places he could hide, she wrestled with the lock. She couldn't turn to look at what she was doing, her brain screaming that the second she looked away he would materialise from a bush or behind a tree and attack.
A choked sob caught in her throat, relief flooding through her as the lock gave up the fight and the door swung open. She shuffled back, stumbling over the threshold and into the hall, slamming the door shut behind her and double locking it. Hands still shaking, it took her a few tries before she was able to slide the newly installed bolt into place and only then was she able to take a deep, cleansing breath and try to calm down.
She didn't know how long she stood there, leaning against the door, taking measured, even breaths. She could hear the storm still raging outside, the rain lashing against the door and windows, but instead of sounding soothing like it usually would, the noise filled her with fear. She couldn't hear anything but the storm, so how would she know if he was out there? How would she hear him coming up to the house? How would she hear if he was roaming the garden looking for a way in?
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to combat the shaking that had taken over her body. She was soaked to the skin, her clothes clinging to her body, but she knew it was fear, more than cold, that was causing the trembling of her limbs and the chattering of her teeth.
She needed to move, she needed to do something other than stand there and cry. She was better than this. She had to be better than this. She wasn't going to let him win.
She knew the windows should be locked, but still, she checked them all, creeping from room to room, refusing to turn on the lights until she was sure the windows were sealed and the curtains were closed. Only then, once she felt a little more secure, did she make her way to her room.
It was hard to strip off her wet clothes, the material stuck to her skin, clinging like a desperate lover that refused to let go. She didn't want a shower now, the idea of standing under more loud water was out of the question, she couldn't even bring herself to turn on the light. She scrubbed at her skin with a damp towel she fished out of the laundry basket, the same one she had been promising her mum she would empty for over a week, and dried off as best she could. Her skin still felt cold and clammy when she gave up and dragged on the pair of warm pyjamas her mother had given her for Christmas one year when she still lived at home and crawled under the covers into bed. Bed was safe, that was the rule, wasn't it? Everyone knew that monsters couldn't get you if you were tucked up in bed.
It should have been peaceful, lying in a warm, soft bed with nothing but the odd flash of lightning that lit up the sky. She'd done it so many times before, laid there and waited impatiently for the next peel of thunder to shake the night, the next flash of brightness to push its way through the curtains, casting shadows on the walls that could be anything and nothing. As a child, she had played a game with herself where she would try to focus on the light and then imagine a picture of the magical creature that could make sure noise. What was roaming the heavens above, was it a dragon, some kind of nature spirit or even Zeus himself?
The idea of a mythical god throwing lightning bolts down from his lofty home had always fascinated her and, unlike most kids her age, had helped her drift off to sleep rather than keep her awake. These days she dreamed of sleep. She wished she could fall into blissful oblivion, to have a full night where she wasn't woken by nightmares, where she didn't imagine that he had slipped into bed beside her, stinking of drink and in a foul mood.
Now, as she sat shivering in bed, the covers wrapped around her like a security blanket, each shadow seemed to move menacingly towards her. Gone were the comforting memories and thoughts of magical creatures and her gods looking out for her, and in their place was a very real monster.
"It's fine," she whispered to herself, "you're fine. You're safe." It was mind over matter, that's what she'd been taught in the coven. Intentions, the power of the mind, your thoughts in good order. They were taught to believe that your mind was your most powerful tool, the power was in the witch, not in the rituals and the tools you used. But how did that work when your mind was your worst enemy? She was lying to herself, she didn't feel safe, she didn't feel fine, and while he was out there she'd never feel safe again.
The silence of the house seemed to close in around her and she found herself wishing she'd gone with her parents instead of staying home alone. Sure, she would have had to face seeing family for the first time since she had broken up with him, but so what? She would have listened to everyone's opinion on where the relationship had gone wrong and what they would have done if they were in that situation, but it couldn't have been any worse than how she was berating herself. OK, it wouldn't have been particularly helpful for her mental health or her confidence, but she already knew that she had been the biggest idiot in the world, she didn't need her family to keep reminding her of it. She knew it was her fault, she should have left when he had first started to treat her badly, but, like with most things, the changes had happened so gradually that she hadn't realised until it was too late. She had believed, stupidly it seemed, that he loved her and would do better the next time. She'd believed his promises and now she was paying the price. The only promise that man had ever kept to her was the promise that he'd make her sorry she had ever been born, and unfortunately, she still believed he'd do it. She knew all of that, but she would still suffer it if it meant she was surrounded by people rather than on her own.
A noise tickled at her ears, something quiet but there. So quiet that it took her a few moments to even register that it wasn't a figment of her overactive, anxiety-ridden, imagination. She glanced at the clock on her bedside, the numbers telling her that she'd been huddled in her bed for little more than half an hour but in that time the storm had died down to nothing but heavy rain and wind, making it easier to make out the sounds that occurred naturally in the house.
She could hear the sound of the boiler running the heating. The gurgling of the hot water in the pipes. The gusts of wind that came down the chimney usually reminded her of cheerful winter nights in front of the fire but now it sounded mocking, like a high-pitched howling. She heard the creak of floorboards that she knew had probably come from the house next door, but she couldn't be sure. She sorted through and catalogued each noise, identifying them and filing them away as safe. But she didn't hear the noise she had just noticed. Where was it? What had it been? Why hadn't she paid more attention? How could she have let herself get distracted again? He was right, she was too stupid to live sometimes and it seemed that her lack of focus could be the reason.
As she listened, on alert for every tiny sound. She heard the familiar wet hiss of tyres on the street outside, followed by the slamming of a car door. She sucked in a breath and held it, waiting for the expected noise of a front door opening, admitting the owner of the car into their home and then shutting behind them. But it didn't come.
What if it was him?
She didn't want to leave her bed to find out. If she touched the curtains and he saw the movement he'd know she was there. She'd been hoping that with her parent's car gone and the house in darkness he'd think she was out with them, not home alone. But now she wasn't sure. If he had been outside watching and seen her he'd know.
There it was again. Tap, tap, tap. If she didn't know better she'd say it sounded almost like fingers rapping gently on glass. Like someone at the window…
The covers fell away as she sat up, the jolt of terror that shot through her overriding everything else.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Faster now. Like it was taunting her.
Was it him? Was he out there wanting to get in? Trying to get in?
Where was her phone? You always needed your phone.
It wasn't on the bedside table where she usually kept it. Where was it?
It wouldn't have been in her pockets as she didn't have them in the clothes she had been wearing and she wouldn't have taken it out into the rain with her if they had.
Where had she used it last? She was sure she had messaged Alli just before her parents had gone out…
She had a mental flash of her mother telling her off for always being on her phone while she was trying to talk to her. She had locked the screen and placed it deliberately on the coffee table in the living room before looking back at her mum with as attentive a look as she could muster.
How could she be so stupid? She'd broken the first rule of any horror movie. Never let go of your phone.
What if he was inside and had gotten hold of it already? How would she call for help? The police had told her that she only had to call, even if she didn't speak, and they would trace the call and come to her because she, and her number, were already on file.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
If he was inside already he wouldn't still be tapping on the window, would he? That was logical, wasn't it? He'd done things like this before, taunting and tormenting her, trying to make her believe that she was wrong, that her head was messed up. If he was doing that again there might be time to sneak down and grab the phone before he managed to get in.
She couldn't see anything, having turned all the lights out. Ordinarily, she'd use the torch on her phone, but that wasn't an option since it was currently AWOL. She had no choice. She held her breath as she reached out and touched her bedside lamp, just the once. The bulb glowed gently on its dimmest setting. It barely made a dent in the darkness but it was enough for her to see the open bedroom door, the only door she had left open. Living with him had taught her well. Close all other doors so that he had to open them, acting as a warning but also buying her time, but keep the door of the room she was in open as a means of quick escape.
The room was freezing despite the heat pumping from the radiators and she shivered in the cold air. She wished she could take her blanket with her, both for the mental comfort that it brought but also for the more practical warmth. But it was a no-brainer to leave it behind, it was something that could get caught up, slow her down or be used to trap her. No, it stayed where it was.
Her sock-clad feet made no sound as she crept towards the door. The bed called to her, inviting her to get back in and stop being stupid. This was how people died in movies, either going to investigate a noise or to retrieve something they had left behind. She'd watched so many there was no excuse if this went wrong. No one to blame but herself.
She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to go down there. She wanted to stay where she was in blissful ignorance. In her safe, familiar room, the room she'd grown up in. Nothing had changed in it since she had moved out four years ago. The same posters adorned the walls, her favourite books lined the shelves, and her cuddly toy collection sat arranged just so on the chair in the corner and on top of her wardrobe. Her dressing table with its out-of-date cosmetics and little fairy ornaments her nan had loved to buy her every birthday. The walls were still their delicate lilac. Her bedding was still the same stars and moon bedspread she'd had since she was thirteen. It was her room, just as she had left it but she was not the same girl that had returned to it.
The hallway was bathed in shadows, the stairs led down into darkness like a black hole. She clamped her jaw, trying to quieten her chattering teeth. She just wished she could do the same for her heart, it thumped so loud she was sure she could hear it echoing off the walls.
She automatically reached for the light switch but stopped herself just in time. Don't announce your presence. Keep him thinking you're not home for as long as possible, she should know that by now. How, in just a few weeks of being away from him, had she forgotten those basic survival skills? Pretend to be asleep, pretend to have not heard him, pretend she hadn't been doing anything forbidden, pretend she was someone she wasn't. Pretend, pretend, pretend.
She felt around with her foot for each stair, frozen fingers gripping hard to the bannister, a fear of falling coupled with a need to have something solid and familiar to hold on to. She'd run her hand along this bannister her entire life, reaching up high as a small child and hauling herself up the stairs while learning to walk, skimming it with her fingertips as a happy, skipping child, and smacking it with each step as a moody teenager stomping her way up to her room.
She knew this house like the back of her hand. Her mother hardly ever changed a thing, and when she was younger she would frequently freak out her mother by walking around the house in the dark and accidentally scaring her by popping up from nowhere or suddenly appearing in the doorway. She counted the stairs automatically, chanting them in her head like a mantra, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, all the way down to one.
She'd made it. She was down. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and then ducked low to avoid being seen through the glass of the front door.
Tap, Tap, Tap. The sound was louder down here. He was taunting her, playing with her fears, her weaknesses. She'd always felt safe here. He was going to prove her wrong.
She dropped to her knees and, hating that she was even doing it, she crawled towards the living room door. Why couldn't she be stronger? Why couldn't she just walk around the house like she owned it, full of confidence and self-assurance? Why couldn't she be herself again?
Reaching up she felt around and caught hold of the handle. She turned it as slowly, knowing it sometimes squeaked, and pushed the door open as quietly as she could.
The sound of tyres on the wet ground again, closer and closer. The engine stopped as the car came to a halt and parked.
It could be him. If he hadn't been out there before he could be now. The car had sounded like it stopped in their designated parking area.
Tap, tap, tap. Still loud, and closer. Like it was coming from the window…
She had to get to her phone. She needed it. It was the only thing that could save her if he was really out there.
She crawled into the room and, keeping her head down low to avoid being seen from the window, she shuffled towards the coffee table. The glow from the streetlight outside filtered in around the edges of the curtains and she could just make out the familiar shape of her phone sitting exactly where she had placed it.
She froze on the spot when the sound of footsteps crunching on the path outside. He was coming! She had to get her phone.
She scuttled forward, her hands slapping the ground, knees protesting the hardness of the surface and the rapid movements.
Not close enough! Too far away!
She hurled herself forwards to close the distance, snatching up the phone as she fell face first, just catching herself on her free hand before her face made contact with the floor.
The front door handle rattled like someone was trying to get in. She held her breath, trying to calm her rapid breathing, she had to be quiet. He always heard her breathing. She had to stay silent.
The door's locked, she reminded herself, he can't get in.
The handle rattled again and she heard a noise like a grunt of impatience, or maybe annoyance.
He couldn't get in unless he tried to break down the door and that took time. She had time to call someone, to call for help or to get out of the house.
No, no time! No time for such thoughts. She'd have to get out and run, which meant he might see her, chase her, catch her…
No, she couldn't do that. Running would antagonise him, she knew that from bitter experience. She had to be smart about it like she had done before. If she could call for help then, if he did get in, she could try her hardest to buy some time. She could keep him calm, she would agree with everything he said, she would play the dutiful woman, she had done it before and she could do it again. She'd been living that day in and day out for three years, it was second nature now. She'd stifled her natural inclination to sassiness and arguing her point because that only made things worse. So she would do as she was told, she would placate him and she would hold out long enough for help to come. All she had to do was call.
She lowered herself quietly to her belly, rolled over onto her back and tucked herself in between the sofa and the coffee table, hiding away. Nine…Nine… her thumb hovered over the number, not pressing it just yet. What if she was doing the wrong thing? He hadn't done anything to her yet, was she allowed to call if no crime had been committed? Wasn't that how it worked? They couldn't do anything about stalkers or threats until they had actually attacked? They had told her already that all they had on him was his attack on her brother and that had been put down to a minor dispute. They couldn't count the years of mental anguish at his hands as a crime. They counted physical or nothing at all. She had to wait.
She pressed the last nine but held her thumb over the call button. She could call in a second if she needed to. If he came in she'd be ready.
The door handle was quiet now but she could hear something else. A jingling, rustling noise. Something was scraping at the lock and she remembered how many times he'd bragged about learning lock-picking from one of his less desirable friends. How had she ever thought he was a good person?
She froze where she lay, pressing her hand over her mouth, stifling the sound of her rapid breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut tight in the childish belief of if you can't see them they can't see you, if they don't exist to you, you don't exist to them. She lay as still as she could, like that old game of sleeping lions, but every nerve in her body was on high alert. She heard the person try the door handle again and this time it opened. She heard the click and the noise of the rain grew clearer, followed by a clunk as the new latch caught, stopping the door in its tracks.
He was here. He was really here…
"Sel?"
The air in her lungs rushed out in a ragged breath as she struggled to form the word. "Daddy?"
"Why is the latch on? And why is the house so dark?"
Relief the likes of which she had never felt before flooded through her. Her phone dropped to the floor as she scrambled to her feet, knocking her elbow painfully on the edge of the coffee table. It was fine, it barely registered on her personal pain scale. She'd been pushed into walls, slammed against doors, had things thrown at her and knocked against furniture as he barged past. This was nothing. This was fine. She was fine.
"Are you alright in there?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm coming now!" she called back, forcing cheerfulness into her tone that she didn't feel as she hurried to the door. The sight of her dad's face staring at her through the gap between the door and the frame had her choking back a happy sob as tears prickled in her eyes.
She hadn't cried before when she had been standing out in the pouring rain and imagining him hiding in every alleyway, behind every tree. She hadn't cried when she had been rushing around the house closing doors, checking windows and pulling the curtains shut. She hadn't cried when she had crept down the stairs with that awful tapping on glass echoing through the silent house, to retrieve her phone. In all those times she had been in survival mode, focused on nothing but staying safe. Now, with her daddy outside, her dad that always represented safety for her, the tears flowed unchecked, blurring her vision as she fumbled with the catch.
The latch sprung apart and she yanked the door open. As always her dad was right there to catch her, his big arms wrapping her up protectively in the world's biggest hug.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did something happen?" Rufus's large hands, roughened from work, were surprisingly gentle as they stroked her hair and rubbed soothing circles on her back.
"I…" She gulped a few times, trying to gain control. "I'm…I'm fine." She pulled back a little, swiping away the tears with her sleeve.
"The evidence would say otherwise," Rufus said gently. He gave her a little squeeze, then reluctantly released her.
"Shut the door," Selene mumbled, stepping backwards into the living room. It might not have been Nathaniel this time but he could still be out there and she wouldn't risk another member of her family getting hurt. She didn't know what she would do, or how she would cope if anything happened to her dad, her hero.
"But, sweet-"
"Please," she pleaded. "Please, listen to me, Daddy."
"Alright, you got it." He closed the door firmly and flipped the latch back into place, even going so far as giving the door a test rattle to prove it was secure.
"Thank you," she sighed. She was safe now. She wasn't alone, her dad was with her.
Rufus opened his mouth, wanting to question her further, but he stopped, his fatherly instincts warning him to tread carefully. This was not his normal little girl, she didn't act this way. Once again he wondered just what that monster had done to her that she hadn't told him about. Seeing her standing there, her cheeks still damp with tears, arms wrapped around her torso like she was physically holding herself together, made something inside him break. It was a dad's job to protect their children, but she'd been so good at hiding it he hadn't known anything was wrong until it was too late.
"I left your mother at the party," he started, feeling the need to break the silence, to clear some of the helplessness he felt. "Wasn't really my sort of scene, but you know what Celia's like, she thrives in a crowd."
"Whereas you don't," Selene finished for him.
"That's right." A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. "Cup of tea?"
"You know I don't really like tea." This was familiar ground, she had lost count of the times she'd been offered tea since she'd been back and told them she didn't drink it. But they were old-fashioned like that and believed that there was nothing that couldn't be solved with a cuppa.
"But a cup of tea cures all life's ills, my girl. I'll make it extra sweet for you," he wheedled, giving her a little eyebrow wiggle. "Just like I did when you were little."
"Is my Kermit mug still in the cupboard? Adam hasn't broken it yet?"
"Right where you left it."
"OK, you can make me a cup." If it would make him happy to feel like he was doing something to help her she would drink a bathtub full of the stuff. She just wanted to do something right for someone for once.
"Good girl." Rufus patted her gently on the shoulder. "Now, you go and settle yourself down in there and I'll be right back." He turned to take his jacket off, the one that Celia had made him wear. "Oh, and put some lights on, will you? There's nothing like sitting in the dark to make things seem worse than they are."
Selene nodded, knowing he was right. Lights made things seem brighter but she wished her mother had a few candles lying around instead.
Her fingers still felt cold and stiff, a byproduct of the fear that had pumped through her body near continuously for the past hour, but she fought past it to click on the little table lamp that her mother kept beside the couch.
In the light she saw her phone lying on the carpet, its display dark now. She picked it up and, after pausing for just a moment, wiped away the numbers she had been so close to dialling. She was a mess, she knew that, but she also knew that it wasn't her fault. It was his, and as long as he was still out there she would always be looking over her shoulder.
"Want to tell me what happened to get you so worked up?" her father asked, handing her her tea before settling himself down beside her on the sofa.
"It was nothing," Selene promised, shrugging off his concern. "I just got a bit scared by the storm, I heard this tapping noise at the window and I-"
"A noise? That one?" Rufus asked, pointing to the conservatory roof where the blustery wind knocked the overhanging branch rhythmically against the glass. "I've been meaning to trim that back but you know what they say, you do your job all day and don't always feel like doing it when you get home."
Selene didn't know if she should laugh or cry. How had she allowed such a simple thing, something that, now she thought about it, she had heard often enough that she should have realised, scare her so much that she almost called the police on her own father? How had she allowed something like that to have her acting like she was in mission impossible, almost combat crawling around the house? How had she allowed a stupid branch to scare her so much that she had wanted to hide in bed and never come out again? How could she have been so stupid?
"None of this was your fault, kitten. You know that?"
She wanted to agree because that was what he wanted. He wanted to be able to wipe away her pain, her fear, with his words, as he always did. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. The best she could give was a half-hearted shrug.
"You can't take the blame for the actions of a monster," Rufus continued sagely. "Some people are just beyond help, no matter how much you love them. Love can't fix everything, sweetheart, however much you might wish it."
Selene sipped her tea, making a face at the overly sweet taste, but she would never dream of refusing it after he had made if for her. Tea, when made by someone that cared, contained so many healing properties. Their care, their worry, their love, and their desire to make you feel better, all transferred to the cup, the sandwich they made, or the cake they baked. Intentions were the most important part of magical practice, and you should never refuse such a gift.
"It'll get better, I promise you that," Rufus continued, evidently deciding that her input was not required for the conversation. "He took advantage of you, of your good nature and your desire to see the best in everyone. That's his actions, not yours. All you did was love him and try your best."
A fat tear slid its way down her cheek and she didn't bother to swipe it away. She'd never been able to hide things from her dad, so it was useless to try now. The only reason she'd gotten away with it for so long was because she hadn't been in the same house as him. "I tried so hard, Daddy."
"I know you did, Kitten."
"I just wanted a relationship like you and Mum, or like Nan and Granddad. One where I'm not constantly on guard all the time or feeling like I'm not good enough. I just wanted to be loved as much as I loved him."
Rufus settled back against the cushions, stretching his legs out under the coffee table and slurped his tea, rolling the liquid around his mouth meditatively and then slowly swallowing, before he spoke again. "Sweetheart, take it from someone who has far more experience than you, that wasn't love."
Selene looked at him sharply. "What do you mean? Of course it was. If I didn't love him I wouldn't have been with him in the first place."
"It wasn't," he argued placidly, refusing to acknowledge her indignation. "And I'll tell you why."
Selene raised a haughty eyebrow, nodding for him to continue. "Go on then, if you think you have all the answers."
"I don't think, I know," he said, smiling into his cup. There were little beads of moisture on his moustache where it had taken a dip in his tea and for some reason, it irritated her. Who was he to tell her who she had loved? What did he know?
"Because he wasn't the one for you."
Selene snorted in disbelief. That was his great answer? That old chestnut? The 'he wasn't right for you' bullshit?
"Oh, I know you can't see it now, but one day you will," he assured her. "One day you'll come trotting up that path with a man on your arm and you'll know that I was right. Because what you feel with that man will be so completely different to how you felt with him."
Selene shook her head sadly. He was so wrong. So completely wrong. Turning away, she put her half-finished tea down on the little table beside the lamp, unable to stomach any more. He didn't understand, he and her mum had gotten together when they were in their teens and had been happy ever since. How would he ever know what it felt like to think you loved someone and find out they had never loved you back and they were a completely different person than you thought they were? Well she knew, she understood and she wasn't prepared to risk her heart again, it was too hard. She'd almost lost herself to that man, he'd broken her and she was barely holding her smashed pieces together. The last thing she'd ever do would be put herself through that again.
"I don't want to meet anyone else," she said firmly, refusing to look at him, her eyes focused on her hands as she worried a bit of skin on her thumb with her finger. "I can't go through all that again."
"You say that now, but when the right person comes along you'll know it and then there'll be no hesitation," he told her, with the surety of someone looking up at the sky on a beautiful summer day and telling her the sun was shining. "One of these days you'll meet someone that will love you for you. No ifs, buts, or maybes. He will see you for the perfect person that you are." He smiled that proud dad smile that she had seen so many times growing up. "He's going to love you so much that you won't ever doubt him and nothing will ever change that. Nothing you say or do will change how he sees you. He'll love you no matter what. Because he'll be your other half and you'll be his."
That was the secret dream of all little girls, wasn't it? To find someone that she wouldn't have to change for, that she could be herself around, witchy warts and all. The dream of her perfect prince that would love her unconditionally, without expectations or conditions. She had thought she had that with Nathaniel. He'd been so perfect at first, so kind and accommodating, but as soon as she had moved in with him and he had her in his power he had changed.
She'd always believed that a relationship should be the foundation on which you built your life. And it should be with someone that you could grow with, change with, not change for. He hadn't supported her and he hadn't allowed her to grow as a person. He had wanted her to stay dependent on him for everything. It had been all about control with him and she couldn't find it in herself to believe that anything else was possible. She wasn't one of the lucky ones, she knew that. She'd been too damaged by this experience to ever want to try again. Trust was something that had been burned out of her by countless insults and abuse. To love someone as her dad talked about, you had to first love yourself, and she couldn't see a time that she would ever feel that way about herself again. She'd never feel good enough again, Nathaniel had seen to that.
"I know you can't see it now," her dad said. "But you will."
"How do you know?" she asked softly. She didn't believe it was possible, but if her dad did, then maybe, just maybe it might be something to cling to. "How do you know that there will ever be someone like that for me?"
"Because I was that person for your mother," Rufus answered without hesitation. "She's older now, and she's far more crotchety than she was. She's changed as she's gotten older, as we all have. Her body changed after she had you kids and she didn't see herself the same way, but I did. To me, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world. She's still the one. The only one that I have ever loved and will ever love. You had the misfortune to meet someone that didn't see you that way and that's what told me that he wasn't the right person for you."
"If you knew he wasn't the right one for me why didn't you say anything?" If he'd known he could have prevented her from making the biggest mistake of her life. Why hadn't he said anything? Why had he let her blindly stumble into a living hell that she'd barely crawled out of?
Rufus lifted his arm in invitation and waited patiently as she weighed up her options until she decided to move up against his side before he continued. "Sweetheart, one thing you will learn is that it's not the parent's job to tell their kids what to do, especially in matters of the heart. I know you, and if I had told you that he was bad news it would have just made you more determined to prove me wrong, it would have made you want him more because you couldn't see past the mask he showed you."
Selene stayed quiet, knowing that he was right. She had thought she knew Nathaniel and had convinced herself that anyone who said otherwise simply didn't know him like she did. They had to be the ones in the wrong because the Nathaniel she had met was nothing like the Nathaniel he turned out to be.
"I know you," her dad went on, his deep, gruff voice rumbling pleasantly in his chest under her ear. "And I know that when you love, you love with your whole heart and you would have defended him to the ends of the earth. Just like you did with that evil rabbit you had."
"Lofty was just misunderstood," she protested, but she saw his point. She was always quick to jump to the defence of the people she cared about.
"It doesn't matter who it is or where you meet them, if you care about someone you love with every fibre of your being, just like me. And I promise you that one day you will find someone that will love you the exact same way. Every ounce of love that you give they will return."
"What if I meet someone and I'm not worthy of their love?" she whispered so low that he only just caught it. "What if I'm too broken? Because I feel like I am. I don't feel like I'll ever be good enough or worthy of the kind of love you and Mum have and it wouldn't be fair on anyone else."
"That's him talking, not you," Rufus told her firmly. "He was the one that wasn't good enough for you, he didn't deserve your love, he wasn't worthy of it. But instead of trying to be a better person, one worthy of you, he took the path of blame. He blamed you for his own issues and that was wrong of him. That is not on you."
"I tried to help him." She shifted her head, snuggling closer so she could slip her arm around her dad's rounded middle. The comforting weight of his arm around her shoulders made her feel safe enough to talk about it, as did the fact that he couldn't see her face. "At first I tried to help him, I thought that I could love him enough for the both of us and, eventually, once he felt secure enough, he would love me back." She paused for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. "When that didn't work I tried to fight back and let him know that what he was doing wasn't OK. But nothing I did worked. If I called him out on his lies he would punish me, if I argued he would make me suffer with silent treatment or emotional blackmail. In the end, it was easier and safer to just give in."
"Let me tell you something," Rufus said once he was sure she had finished. "A woman who doesn't tolerate lies and disrespect, who doesn't take orders from a man has always been viewed as a bad woman. She's seen as toxic. But that's not the case. These women just know their worth and are smart enough to not accept anything less. That's not toxic or bad, sweetheart, that's survival and valuing yourself. And there is nothing wrong with that."
"Is that why you let Mummy run the house and bully you into submission?" Selene teased, feeling better now that her dad had put into words just what she had used to believe. She had always told herself that she wouldn't be one of those women that put up with shit from any man. She had promised her teenage self that she would be strong and if the man didn't like that he wasn't the one for her. But, when she had found herself in that very situation she had been powerless to do anything about it. All the promises to herself had amounted to nothing. Now, she was finally beginning to believe it again.
Rufus chuckled, the motion bouncing her head on his shoulder. "Yep, that's exactly why. But the key is that I know she doesn't mean it, that and running the house and organising my life makes her happy. You know what they say, happy wife, happy life."
"Yeah, well, it didn't quite work out for me, did it?" Selene said with a grimace. "I'm never getting married, no man is owning me ever again."
"Never say never, Kitten. You can't know what the future will bring."
Selene shrugged.
"All that matters is that you're happy," Rufus said softly. "That's all a father ever wants for his kids."
"I'll try, but I can't promise anything."
"Good enough for now," Rufus said, unwinding his arm from around her shoulders to reach for his tea. He slurped back the rest of the cup without pausing for breath, something that always fascinated and disturbed her in equal measure. "It's still raining."
Selene paused to listen, her head tipped to one side. The rain had calmed a bit now and it had lost the wild thrashing of the storm, although it still drummed a steady pitter-patter beat on the windows. She smiled softly, the sound once again calming and friendly. "Yeah, it is."
"Come on then, up with you," Rufus ordered, hauling himself out of the comfy embrace of the sofa cushions and up onto his feet.
"Why? What are we doing?"
"He might have taken some things from you, my girl, but I'll be damned if he'll take everything."
"Take what? What are you talking about?" Selene watched as her dad made his way to the front door. "Daddy, did you drink whiskey again?"
Rufus didn't answer, he simply opened the door and walked out into the rain.
"Dad!" Selene scrambled to her feet and raced after him.
The sight of her father standing out in the middle of the parking bays outside their house, arms outstretched like a magician completing a magic trick made her screech to a halt. "What are you doing?"
"Getting wet, which will please your mother no end, so let's make it worth the scolding." He stepped closer and dipped down in a courtly bow before offering her his hand. His usually scruffy hair, which her mother had spent so long brushing and gelling into submission earlier, was plastered to his head. His shirt was already sticking to his chubby frame and water ran down his nose and dripped off his beard.
"Mum's gonna kill you," Selene said, unable to stop the giggle that bubbled up inside her. How many times had her mother told them off because they had come home soaked after a walk in the rain or dirty from messing around in the garden? It seemed like this time would be no different.
"Don't leave me waiting."
Still laughing Selene allowed herself to be swept up into his arms, the rain hammering down on their heads.
"You know, if I find myself a man that will love me like you love mum and will dance with me in the rain, I'll consider myself to be incredibly lucky."
"And don't you forget it," Rufus said, smacking a kiss to her forehead.