Final LockDown (6 page)

“Wait for the boys, Leigh,” Ant tells me as we climb from the car and I approach the front door.

“I need her now, Ant.” I am angry, beyond angry. I am deadly and that is not a good thing to bargain with.

“You don’t know what he has in there, think rationally for a second. He could have a gun or anything,” he tells me, trying to get me to think clearly, but all I can think of is my daughter and her red crying eyes.

“Yeah, so I have a bigger one.” I pull my glock from my jeans, the same gun that had easily ended Phillip’s life, and stroke the muzzle.

I walk to the door, lifting my leg up hard and plunging it forcefully forward, my heel kicking through the wood and busting the thing open on its hinges.

I can smell the old musty smell these abandoned houses always possess and it turns my stomach to think my daughter is in this house somewhere. “Leigh wait.” I hear Ant’s footsteps following me, his boots hitting the cracked laminate hard behind me as I enter through the frame of the door and walk towards the closest door.

“Search upstairs now,” I demand him. Above all else I am his fucking boss and he does as I say, especially now as the only thing I care for is getting my daughter back. Anyone that gets in my way is sure to be fucking splattered on the walls along with the cunt that has Mel.

“Yes boss,” he says as he shoots past me and up the creaky stairs into the room I know my wife had been molested repeatedly, the room she lost all innocence and her friend had nearly died.

I smile to myself as I hear the faint cries of a baby. Yes, that is Melissa’s cry alright, and it only makes my finding her that much easier. Payback motherfucker, I think to myself as I walk towards a door to the left of me.

I stand outside for a few seconds listening to her sobs “Shhh, it’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.” I hear a man’s voice talking to my daughter and it makes me sick to the very pits of my stomach. How Abbi had been so disregarding of her daughter in the hospital a few hours ago I have no clue. It makes me angry and sad at the same time at her blatant emotionless state.

I turn the handle slowly, almost getting off on the torturous fright it will instil in him. That is if he possesses any heart at all.

“Get your hands off of her now!” I shout to the older man sat on the chair with my daughter in his arms. It sickens me how relaxed she is, regardless of her sniffles.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” he replies placing his free hand in the air submissively. I want to blow the prick's head off now, but with my Melissa in his arms it is pretty much impossible.

This is the man who had abused my wife, tormented and tortured her for months, shot her and nearly killed her and then had taken my daughter, holding her like she is his.

“ANT!” I shout loudly as I aim my gun to his head.

I hear the heavy steps running the stairs rapidly and then the skidding halt of his boots as he enters the room.

“FUCKER!” he roars as he paces toward him. He grabs Mel from his arms. I can see the need in his eyes to at least lay a punch to his face but Mel begins to cry and holds onto her godfather tightly.

“Take her outside, keep her safe until the guys get here, then I need you back mate,” I tell him as he walks past me and out of the room with her.

“Not so big now are you?” I ask maliciously as I pace the small area in front of him, kicking dust balls with my shoes. I am still dressed in my Tux, my shirt still bloodstained and red. “You see this,” I point the gun to my blooded chest. “This is my wife’s blood. The blood that nearly took her from me, and you, you fucking cunt, ran away like a prick, WITH MY FUCKING DAUGHTER!” I look to him and he lowers his head guiltily to the floor.

I walk over to him and lift his face to me, smashing the butt of my gun into his cheek. The crack I hear and the spit of blood that joins and mingles with Abbi’s, brings a fucked-up kind of pleasure to me.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, trying to lower his head again.

“SORRY? You’re fucking sorry? You ruined her life, you stupid, perverted cunt. I will ruin you, do you get that? I will fucking ruin you and I will get off on it like you get off on fucking children,” I say nastily, smiling as I do.

He looks to the side of me, trying to avoid my eyes and it makes my anger boil over. I smash my gun into his jaw a few times before cracking the top of his head with it. The blood trickles down his cheek from his skull, his jaw disfigured and hanging a little.

He doesn’t flinch at all, barely moves an inch as I beat his face. “Feel big now? You want to hurt me? YOU FUCKING CUNT! YOU’RE DONE, YOU UNDERSTAND? DONE!” I turn and walk towards the door, waiting for Antonio’s return.

As I stand I think about my wife and how I am going to deal with her. She has pissed me off something chronic with her disregard for Melissa and I know if I go there now, the adrenaline and anger I have built up from this little rendezvous will make me say things I really shouldn’t.

I hear the steps heading back towards me from the front door and I turn back to face the man whose life  is just about to end, gladly.

“Game over fucker!” I spit out as I lift my lips in a wicked smile.

I had heard the door smashing through and I knew my time was coming to an end. My heart rate had sped through the roof and my hands were sweating up as total and utter fear penetrated me.

I kiss my granddaughter’s hair and hold her close to me for the last time, as I force to keep my tears at bay. I need to be strong right now and take what I deserve. I know I deserve it; it was just a matter of time before someone took the initiative to rid the world of me.

I hear the multiple footsteps in the hall outside, the slamming against my stairs as somebody disappears up them.

I had told the baby that everything would be okay, that she would be fine, before the lounge door was kicked in and I saw death before me, the grim reaper in the form of a large, built, gun-wielding husband.

I can’t recall past the snatching of the child from my arms and the first breaking of my cheek bone. It had splintered in my face, the shards digging violently into my skin, the pain searing through my body.

I don’t show my fear, I don’t show my pain. I take every hit, every punch and forceful strike with acceptance as I mentally count down the minutes I know I have left. I pray to God, pleading for his eternal forgives for every sin I have committed.

‘If you can hear me Lord, know that I have sinned, but I have acknowledged my wrong doings. All I want is to leave this world and be with my wife. To leave my daughter safe and happy. Please allow me to your home and welcome me. Please redeem me of everything I have ever done and encourage me to stay positive and watch over my family from afar.’
I beg him silently as I see that clock ticking away.

SMASH! Another crack to my cheek, the same bone crushing further. I can’t move my face, it is swollen, bleeding and numb. My lips are busted, my eyebrows split and bleeding, my skull caving a little and gushing red paint. My cheeks and jaw are unusable and causing a pain so intense it makes me see stars.

Every hit forces me further to the light, a huge tunnel that leads to a bright white abyss that I hope leads me to heaven, and to the place my soul had fled to when my wife had taken her life.

“Fucking Cunt! I’ll fucking kill you,” I can hear Leighton saying repeatedly through my fog. He is relentless in his attack, never giving up, never lightening, only intensifying his strikes. I am surprised I am not already passed out, but I want to be aware as I take my final breath.

“You ready to die; you ready to leave Abbi alone you sick fucking bastard?!” He shouts again as he clenches my jaw in his hand, the bones sliding and grinding as the broken pieces move.

I feel sick with pain, tears streaming my face uninvited. I blink back the wetness, every drop stinging my open and gashed skin.

He taps the gun against my cheek, and then stands up straight. I breathe out relieved air as I hear his steps move away. The few second rest makes my heart rate settle a little.

“Say your last prayers because I am ending this now,” he says and I force my eyes open to watch as he aims the gun to my head, his hard and cruel face staring at me, our eyes locking. I breathe out and nod my head as I ready myself for the impact.

“Later,” he says malevolently before I hear the pop of the gun. I think of everything I have done, every reason why this is now ending. I deserve it, I want it and I need it. Abbi needs this, to end her endless nightmare of the thought of me.

My heart is broken, my spirit and soul lost and abandoned but I will find them all again. I will watch from afar as my daughter grows to be the amazing woman I know she will be, and my beautiful granddaughter breaking guys' hearts. They will be fine; I will make sure of it.

I accept my fate and I am aware of myself for mere seconds before everything turns black. The white light is fading in the distance and I push myself through the thick mist as I grasp onto the final remnants of humanity.

This is the vine God is offering me, a tiny slither of hope that I can clasp onto. I grip to the tiny wisp of white in the darkness and feel myself speed through into the beautiful brightness, I hope and pray will end my torture.

“I’m here angel, I’m here.” I speak aloud, smiling as everything clears and I spot the one thing I have been missing. My soul, my other half and my everything. My Penny.

Fogginess is what I can feel. A pounding within my skull that is more than unbearable. Angel is nowhere to be seen, just a softness below my back that shields the aching pain that is deep inside me.

“She’s coming round,” I hear somebody say as I move my head side to side, trying to force my lids to open and allow my eyes the gift of sight. “Remove the tube now,” he says again and I nearly puke as I feel that horrible sensation of the rubber sliding against my tonsils. “Bowl,” he orders for the final time as my body propels me up, vomit rising and spewing into the cardboard container. “And she’s back.”

“Ergh,” I say, feeling worse than I ever have before. I blink hard as the bright lights around me morph into a duller glare.

“I think you’ll be okay now, Mrs Lock,” he says to me as my hazy brain regains a little consciousness.

“What happened?” I croak out. This amount of anaesthetic cannot be good on a person. I feel hazy, confused and somewhat frightened of what had just happened. I thought after escaping hell, I wouldn’t see my angel again.

“Your wound re-opened. The veins we had stitched up burst and you lost a lot of blood. You were talking about random things. Was quite funny to watch, Mrs Lock, but I’m afraid you may have annoyed your husband a little.” I lay back on the bed sighing. I have recollections of the things I said to him, the disregard I had towards my daughter’s safety. But it is all lies, all false words created by the lack of oxygen my body was receiving.

“I need to see him,” I say sadly, hoping he hadn’t been too angry with me.

“We’ve tried to call him but we aren’t getting an answer. I’m sure he’ll come here soon sweetheart, you just focus on getting yourself better okay?” he tells me as he helps me to sit up to drink some water.

“Why would I have said those horrible things to him?” I ask the doctor. I know roughly why, Angel had explained it simply to me.

“You had a bad internal bleed Abigail and it meant that your brain was losing oxygen and making you a little delirious. You weren’t able to control rational thinking therefore, not seeing the things he was. Once he comes back and we explain it to him, I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” He smiles kindly at me.

“Yeah, I’m sure he will.” I relax into the bed and stare to the ceiling. I know I am going to be bored as hell now until he comes back to me.

*****

I lay in my bed for the rest of the day, the lightness from outside the windows changing to a dark blue that brings along a chill and darkness I haven’t felt for a long time. Not since having Leighton in my life.

“No, please no,” I say to myself as I bring my legs up and beg for those images and dreams not to return. I can’t bear to live if they infest themselves within my head like they once had. I barely made it through last time; I don’t think my emotional sanity can take on more images.

I read the clock on the side of my bed, 23:52. It is nearly midnight and Leighton hasn’t returned. I have no idea where he is, where my daughter is, if she is even safe. I wish I knew what was going on so I can at least sleep contently.

I close my eyes after convincing myself sleep is the best thing to do right now. It is true when they say the only time you heal is when you allow yourself to shut down for a few hours so your systems can do their job and repair the damage.

My body is pumped with drugs, every drip of morphine rushing my system makes it easier for my body to shut down.

I close my eyes and succumb to the desperate need to recuperate. Regardless of the many hours my body has been sedated, it hasn’t helped with the exhaustion my body is suffering. The physical pain is bad, but in some ways it is far more bearable than the darkness I can feel surrounding every tiny crevice of my hospital room.