Ben folded up the letter into a paper aeroplane and threw it at the wall, it fell and missed the bin completely. He continued with the whiskey, savouring every last drop as he didn’t want to return to the shop to buy another bottle.
He hadn’t thought she would ever be in contact again, the judge had given her fifteen years.
Ben laid his head on his arm on the kitchen table and tapped at the dented oak that had been in his family for twenty years. He looked over at the paper aeroplane with its snubbed nose and ran the sentence through his head once again.
“I know I’ve caused you a lot of grief, but there’s something I need that only you can get for me.”
Ben knew what she wanted but he owed her nothing, she had ruined everything. His life had been sucked into repeat and when he looked back on those years, he realised he should have known that this would be the outcome.
Before the drugs, the alcohol, social services, the baby, Ben had been happy, meeting Sarah changed him forever.
He knew where she was buried but he didn’t dare think about it too much. The ache in his stomach twisted his guts and his heart thumped a warning. He was desperate to forget, but the letter had thrown the pain right back at him, choking him. He thought about the rest of the letter and more sentences ran through his head,
“I didn’t mean to do it, you know me, I left her for ten minutes, I thought she would be ok, I know you blame me and I understand that but please, I need to do this one thing. I buried her on the hill where we first met so she could watch over all of us, I need you to bring her home.”
Ben’s tears were collecting in a puddle by his face that was now squished into his arm trying to stop the tears from coming; he couldn’t and wouldn’t do what she wanted.
If she had just stayed with the baby if she had been watching her instead of talking to the neighbour if she had just stayed off the drugs. Where was home anyway?