His mum steps out, and the anger radiates off her. In fact, I’m pretty sure every time I’ve had the pleasure of being in her presence, she’s been angry over something.
“You know, masturbation is known to be one of the best stress relievers. It releases endorphins and—”
“Charlotte,” Drew muses, pressing his fist over his mouth.
My eyes widen as I take in her flushed face. I was only trying to help. She might smile a little more.
“It’s been a really long day,” I rush out. “Please, forget you heard that.”
Drew chuckles. “Charlotte.”
“Actually, forget you even saw us.”
“Or smelled you,” Natalie sniggers.
“We will make it up to you,” Drew promises.
His mother sighs. “Get inside before I have a mind to send you home.”
He grins and slips his fingers through mine. We push through the first door, ignoring the stares from their guests. “Together,” he whispers.
I beam, my heart beating rapidly. “Together.”
EPILOGUE
CHARLOTTE
Eight weeks later
My life changed the night Scott hurt me. I had been a plate smashed into a wall and all that was left were all these tiny broken pieces. I observed and criticised every single one, every part of me, wondering if that was the piece that was needed or if it could be left and forgotten.
I had put it together without filling in the cracks, without healing the very fracture that made it shatter. And I did it because I needed everything to be okay. I wanted to be smiles and happiness once more.
Somewhere along the way, I became someone more. The fractured pieces of me healed, but what melded those pieces together gave me strength, courage and self-worth. It brought me into the real world with wide, open eyes. Instead of it being clouded by what happened, the skies opened, and what I felt was beautiful prior to Scott, blossomed and glowed in a way it hadn’t before, in a way I could appreciate since I had tasted darkness and knew what that light truly meant.
Sophia will never again walk the streets. She is currently in a facility where she will be held until her sentencing. After her mental evaluation is done, they’ll go forward with the sentencing. I’m not sure what happens to mentally unstable prisoners. Is there a place they currently go or are they thrown into a cell with everyone else? I don’t know. A part of me doesn’t care as long as she remains locked up.
My new security system my uncle Liam had installed at the library managed to record her confession. It helped cement our case against her and make it rock solid. She tried to claim she had done it under duress, that she wasn’t well in herself. But watching that video play back in court, there was no way she could deny she was lucid during crucial moments. She knew exactly what she had done to me and to all those other women.
My only regret is Scott wasn’t standing next to her. He should have been up there. His crimes were just as heinous as hers.
Her kids, a son, aged five, and a daughter, aged three, are now living with Scott’s parents. All this time they had looked for him. They were beside themselves with grief when they learned what the babysitter had been doing to him, and more sickened to learn their son turned into a monster. I met his parents briefly outside the court. Both were apologetic on behalf of their son and wished me a full and happy life. I grieved for them. I grieved for what could have been and what they had lost. But they had their grandchildren to care for now, who, I was informed, are thriving and doing well thanks to my uncle who looked into it. Most monsters are made, not born. Scott was made, not by his parents’ hand but by his own. His own choices wreaked havoc on those around him, those he came into contact with.
All of that is behind me.
For eight weeks since the fire I have trained. My library is due to reopen any day now, but I don’t waste my time sitting around and dwelling. I use it to train. I don’t want to be in a position like that again, where I can’t protect my loved ones. Instead, I hung off her back using the only weapon at my disposal.
Not anymore.
Not now.
Hand in hand, Drew and I walk into the room where we are to teach our first self-defence class. Tears gather in my eyes as I take in the occupants of the room. Men and women stand before us, some looking ready to bolt, some wary and scared.
Drew looks as taken aback as I do, but he straightens his stance and expression, not losing focus on the task at hand.
Up front, standing strong and proud, are Madison, Hayden, Nora, Olivia, Harriet, Gabby and Emily. Beside them is April and Amber. I give them a smile and a wave, and the small gesture seems to make them relax.
I know from Landon—who told us before we came in—the women Drew’s dad had located and Landon had gone to speak to, are inside this room. I’m not sure who is who or what their stories are, but it warms my heart to know they are here. I also know one of the women who stands amongst them is the sister of the girl who had killed herself because of Scott and his wife.
These people have had their own trauma, and their own story to tell.
They have fears and triggers.
However, the moment they walked through those doors, was a step they took to heal. It was the first step I took to heal.
My shoulders shake with silent tears. He did it. Drew really did it.
Hayden takes a step toward me but Drew blocks her view, standing in front of me. “If you can’t do this, I can get someone else in to help me. It will be okay.”
“You did it,” I whisper hoarsely.
Realisation dawns and he runs his hands down my arms. “We did it.”
I nod, stepping a little closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. “Together.”
He leans down, kissing the tip of my nose. “Together.”
When he turns to the class, his expression remains calm, soft, but there’s an authority there that wasn’t before. “Welcome, and thank you for joining us,” he greets.
My eyes still glassy with tears, I watch as every single person in the room hangs on to his every word. They take it all in, all moved and touched by his wisdom. Some even stand straighter, stronger, and I can’t control the storm of emotions within.
I turn and observe him, my stomach fluttering. He’s like an avenging vigilante, someone who looks out for those who need it.
And he is mine.
I am his.
He didn’t save me. He helped me save myself. And all these people are going to experience the same.
I don’t need a dream to make things happen. Not any longer. Dreams are always good to make, fulfilling to achieve.
But I don’t need to anymore. I don’t need another wish or dream. I don’t need to reach for one. For he is standing right next to me. Broad, tall, and powerful.
And his hand is wide open for me to take.
Sometimes, the reality is better than the dream.
Happiness and love weigh far greater when you aren’t pushing for it. And my love for him outweighs us both, but it doesn’t pin me down; it doesn’t suffocate me.
Because I’m free-falling.
Free-falling into a life filled with much more than my dreams could ever have imagined.
And we have only just begun.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT’S