At sunrise, I was discovered by a woman named Mavis, and she took me back to her house, which was, ironically, on the other side of the lake. There, I had a hot shower, while she ran my clothes through the dryer, and, with no spare underwear on me, she gave me a pair that fit almost as well. Not that I was in any state of mind to care about whether the underwear was too tight or if I swam in it - shock from the events of the day before had set in, and I was numb, drifting in a grey mist of sheer nothing. Mavis sent me to bed in borrowed pyjamas upon seeing my state, but all that did was bring on nightmares that had me bolting awake in a cold sweat, nightmares in which the events of the day before replayed themselves in grotesque shades of red and green, with distorted faces, and voices sounding like the speaker was underwater. No one stood out clearly, but I recognised Dad, and Oliver, and later, Sally, screaming at me for getting her daughter killed, and Fanny, blaming me for the death of her mother and half-sibling, and Callum, telling me he'd never loved me, Maud, kicking me out and leaving me to be assaulted and raped, over and over again.
By midday, I was a nervous wreck, and that wasn't helped when police came knocking on Mavis's door. My disappearance had caused quite a stir, and despite Dad's threat of the day before, someone had called the police, and the Kombi had thus been tracked to this remote location in the Cotswolds. I was terrified I'd be arrested for murder, especially when Dad's and Oliver's bodies were pulled from the lake, but the officer speaking to me was very kind, and assured me what had happened wasn't my fault. "It's my guess Mr Harding's mind snapped," she said gently. "Mr Aaronson's behaviour didn't help, and though I shouldn't really be saying this, he did get what was coming to him."
I snorted into my tea. "You speak from experience," I said.
The officer gave a thin smile. "More than I'd like," she admitted. "But seriously, Charlie, don't go blaming yourself. Oliver is now reunited with his wife and daughter, and your father... well, we won't speak ill of the dead, but I'd imagine he's getting the bollocking of a lifetime for the hell he put all of you through." There was a hint of pain behind her eyes as she finished, and like a lightning strike out of a clear sky, I recognised her. 48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv6khbrDY9A
"You're Oliver's birth mother," I said.
The officer - Hannah - nodded. "Yes," she said. "He wasn't like this - he had a good heart. But your father twisted him into an obsessive monster, likely to assuage his own unwanted lust towards you, and he figured using Oliver was the one ticket he had of getting his hands on you. And for what it's worth, I don't blame you one bit. Oliver was suffering keenly, and the combination of so many things hitting at once would've done a number to his mind."
"Do you think he'd have done this on his own?" I asked.
Hannah hesitated, and then shook her head. "I want to say no," she said. "But I never really got the chance to see him grow up into a man. So I can't say. I want to believe he wouldn't have done this on his own, but you can never tell what drives a man."
I sighed. "Well, it's done now," I said.
"It's done," Hannah agreed. "But make sure you get yourself into counselling; not just for what happened yesterday, but to see just how deep your father's abuse ran. I'm guessing a lot more happened under the surface then you're willing to admit, but we're all good at burying childhood memories that would only cause us pain if we held onto them for too long."
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A few hours later, I was sobbing like a baby in Callum's arms, his grip on me so tight I had difficutly breathing. But I didn't care; I was reunited with the man I loved, and that was worth bruised ribs and trouble breathing.
The coroner eventually ruled Dad's and Oliver's deaths as a murder suicide, and they were duly buried. George went to his son's funeral, but no one attended Dad's, for which I was relieved. He'd been an absolute monster, and I was glad he went to his final resting place uncelebrated and unmourned. I knew he had to have been good once, but that had died the day I was born, after which things had gone so spectacularly wrong.
I started attending counselling not long after the funerals, and while it was still too painful to talk about to anyone but my therapist, I was glad for those sessions, as it helped put long raging demons to rest. Dad had left psychological scars on me that would take years to heal, but I had Callum, Angus, Fanny, George and Mum, all of who stood beside me as I slowly recovered, not just from that horrible night, but also for the years of abuse Dad had heaped on me.
In time, I gave birth to twins - a boy and a girl - and I named them Oliver and Olivia. Everyone approved, saying it was a good way of honouring two lives that had been through so much hell, even though one had been a young man, and one had been only a baby when they'd passed. Being a new mother was exhausting, but rewarding, and as the twins grew, I found all the midnight feeds, tantrums, teething, and terrible toddler stages worth it to see them grow into lovely children, teenagers, and adults. George, Maud and Mum were thrilled to be grandparents, and often there were good natured sqaubbles over who was the best one to spend time with their grandchildren. Oliver and Olivia had no favourites, and said all three were the best grandpa and grandmas they'd ever had, which made the adults puff up with pride. 48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzXwYtnkXDb
All in all, life had dealt me some shitty cards. But it had also dealt me some wonderful cards, and I was looking forward to my children meeting, falling in love, marrying new spouses, and having children of their own. And nowhere along the way would I let them ever feel the shame I'd been forced to feel. The trauma cycle had ended with me, and it was never going to continue, not so long as I had breath in my body to stop it.
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