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  “Well, when I see you smile it makes me feel better, so I guess that makes sense,” she said. “Now, time for sleep,” she commanded, as she settled her head on the pillow next to him.

  “Your smile makes me happy too,” he mumbled before turning his back and drifting off into a restless sleep.

  Millie stared up at the ceiling. She was tired of feeling so serious lately. She was tired of hate and sorrow. And she was tired of this old crappy house. But she felt powerless to do anything about it. She remembered Emily’s quote from the Bible earlier that day – “With God all things are possible”. She thought about her visions and the overwhelming feeling of love that accompanied them. Her mind wandered over the fleeting feelings of her own presence within her and previous thoughts of tapping into another higher dimension. Perhaps that is where I can find this God? she pondered. Inside of me. And if inside of me I find love, then God must be love. Millie silently left the bed where Ace slept, deciding that tonight she would not be Miss Serious, Miss Sorrow, nor Miss Miserable. Tonight she would be Miss Fun. After all, it was New Year’s Eve. And Emily made for a perfect accomplice.

  Walk Like an Egyptian played in the background while Emily carefully measured out a shot of Southern Comfort for each of them. Feet twitched to the beat as she added ice and topped each tumbler with Coca-Cola. Mission accomplished, she let loose, allowing the music to penetrate through her and guide her feet and body. Millie laughed and swayed along with her. A warm tingly feeling made its way through Millie’s body. It was the first time that she had tried alcohol, and so far, she was enjoying the lightheaded numbing feeling it provided. Plus, she thought giggling to herself, I think I could do anything now! All her concerns, fears and worry were slipping away, leaving in their place laughter, happiness and love. Damon arrived all spruced up in blue Levi’s, a black T-shirt and his dreamy eyes.

  “Come hither my blue lagoon,” Millie beckoned as he strode through the lounge room door.

  “On my way my exotic queen,” Damon played along.

  Tonight she wore blue bubble-gum jeans that clung around her bottom like a glove, and he could just make out the shade of the lacy lilac bra that cupped already generous breasts under her simple white singlet top. Oversized gold hoop earrings hung from her ears, and black charcoal underlined her green eyes. Damon wrapped her in his arms, squeezing her tightly. He looked down at her blushed, smiling face upturned towards him and planted a full kiss on her welcoming lips. He knew he was hooked, but the line he dangled on felt good and it was a line he thought he could dangle on forever.

  Ryan knocked on the door a few minutes later, and the foursome continued drinking and dancing, chatting and laughing together as 1988 made its inevitable entrance at the stroke of midnight. A chorus of “Happy New Year” broke out at the strike of midnight, and hugs and kisses were exchanged in abundance.

  Even in her alcoholic haze, Millie soon realised that her father was due home from his late shift. She began to hustle them out and remove any evidence of alcohol consumption that may be in sight. She even managed a hasty, albeit tender goodbye with Damon before pushing him out the front door, lopsided grin and all.

  The house descended into quiet darkness as Millie scooted to her bedroom with a tall glass of water, recalling Emily’s advice that she would need it through the night. She flung herself into bed, feeling victorious. I did it! she thought as she lay in the dark. Dad will never know. She had enjoyed her night of Miss Fun, and as she lay there, she vowed she would do it again soon. Life was meant to be fun, right?

  Millie was drifting into the comforting world of sleep when a familiar shrill voice broke through the murkiness of her heavy head. She sat up in a daze as her ears listened for the sound that had disturbed her slumber.

  “Leave me alone!” a voice rang out.

  Millie knew for certain that the voice belonged to Emily.

  She leaped out of bed and skipped over to the window of her bedroom that overlooked the street. There, under the scant light of the street post stood Emily and Ryan. Ryan had his arm around Emily’s narrow waist and she clung to him as if for her life. Millie moved the curtains aside and peered around the dim deserted street some more. Who could she have been yelling at? her thoughts muddled. Then she spotted a figure in the dark shadows in front of Emily’s house. She squinted in an effort to make out the ghostly figure lurking near the trees of the pavement. The dark figure approached Emily and Ryan, and Millie could just discern that the tall lanky figure belonged to Drew Kent, Emily’s stepfather. He was saying something inaudible to Emily as he approached her. As he came under the glow of the street light, her view of him became clearer. She could plainly see the short mousy coloured hair that slicked his scalp and the horn-rimmed glasses that perched on a long pointed nose. He even looks creepy! she thought as her body stiffened and her heart began to thump in growing alarm.

  “Just go away!” Emily yelled at him as he continued to move closer to them. She was visibly weeping now, her body trembling against Ryan’s protective chest.

  Millie switched on her lamp and scampered to find her sandals. She raced out the front door with a loud thudding bang as the porch screen door slammed behind her. The noise startled them all, as they turned and saw Millie running on wobbly legs towards Emily and Ryan. She positioned herself in front of them like a lioness ready to fight to the death for her young cubs. Regarding the man half hidden in the darkened street, Millie was unafraid.

  Drew chortled at the sight of Millie’s small, gallantly placed frame blocking his step-daughter. Millie thought that the noise that came from his lips was the most ugly, sinister laugh that had ever touched her ears. But she wasn’t scared. And as she stood there, listening to his cackle ringing through yellowed chipped teeth, she felt nothing but contempt for him. She was no longer sweet little Millie. She was no longer somebody things just happened to. For a fleeting moment something twisted through her like an evil black serpent, flickering with golden flames in the backs of her green murky eyes. Millie felt she had more control than she otherwise would have.

  She began to laugh, bending in a snicker then building up to a chortle that even surprised her, before dying away just as suddenly. “What?” Millie said with an unnerving calm. “You don’t think I know who you are?”

  The gape of Drew’s mouth closed as he glared at Millie. He then decided to ignore her and brought his attention back to Emily. “Get inside now young lady!”

  Taking her cue from Millie, Emily lifted her chin in defiance. “You’re not my father!”

  Drew took another step towards them. The street light cast inky shadows over the hollows of his features, creating an eerie image.

  “That’s right. You’re not her father are you? No, you are a sick, perverted horrible man that likes to hurt girls,” Millie said. “You are nothing!” she hissed.

  Drew grasped at Millie’s shoulders with long bony fingers and began to shake her. “Who do you think you are little girl? How dare you speak to me like that!” he snarled.

  He brought his hand up to his face as the headlights of a car shone on him, and the car screeched to an abrupt halt alongside them.

  The car door flew open, revealing Glen’s towering bulk as he sprinted towards them with breath seething. He didn’t utter a word as he tore the lanky, mousy man from Millie and smashed a huge balled-up fist into the man’s long thin nose, sending his glasses flying while he buckled down to land on knobbly knees. Drew held his busted bleeding nose as he grimaced from the pain that shot through his shattered nasal bones. He whimpered at Glen’s feet in shock.

  Glen glowered down at him. “If you ever touch my daughter again I’ll kill you,” he said. He turned to Millie. “Let’s go inside,” he said while taking her arm.

  “Wait!” Millie shook free of her father’s hand and leaned over Drew. “And if you ever touch Emily again, I’ll have my father kill you. And no amount of praying to your God will save you,” she hissed in his ear.

  Millie took he
r father’s hand proudly to begin their short walk to the house. She glanced back at Emily, who was watching them with mouth agape. “Bye Em,” Millie called out, giving her a small wave.

  Emily smiled back as she mouthed the words “Thank you”.

  Chapter Eleven

  January 29, 1988

  D ear Journal,

  I have been thinking about my recent outbursts of rage. So unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I mean, sure, I would sometimes become angry, but this is different. It feels like a black cloud hovers over me, then I am consumed in a dark haze of rage. And yet somehow, the rage is one of controlled, calculated coldness. I know this might sound strange … perhaps even wrong of me, but when this cloud consumes me, it feels powerful. What a contrast to the powerful feelings of love I experience with my visions! I guess the more concentrated my feelings become either way, the more they are magnified. And to be honest with you, dear journal – the cold rage cloud does not provoke lovely feelings within me. It’s even kind of frightening actually. Where does it come from?

  If we hold the power to use thought and imagination to determine our future, then how can we avoid unwanted situations or circumstances? However much we imagine a life wanted, we cannot exercise our personal imaginations to control others. There must be more to this idea than I know. And I will some day figure it out!

  I would much prefer concentrating on feelings that make me feel good. And I’m getting there. I just need to forget about Mum a little more. That last goodbye. I brushed her off because I had wanted to get to my date. It has been haunting me every day. If only I took the time to really hug her close and tell her how much I loved her, she may have stayed. If only.

  My father has left us now for a couple of days or so. He left super early this morning. I am worried about being alone here without him. Especially with creepy Drew Kent next door. What if he realises I am here alone with Ace? Luckily I have a super cool boyfriend who will be keeping us company. I think I need to stop worrying! It provides me with nothing, and just ruins today. Emily’s stepfather hasn’t touched her inappropriately since the night my father punched him. I guess there is a silver lining to that rainbow after all.

  So, enough with the “if onlys” and the “what ifs.” I will try my hardest to fill my thoughts with only things of loveliness – like my little brother’s beautiful smiling face. It feels better that way anyway!

  Millie xo

  ***

  Since Lilly had left, Glen found himself going through his days just as he had done so before her chosen withdrawal from their family. Only now, every waking hour was spiked with a skilfully concealed feeling of hatred fuelled by his fierce need for vengeance. Today however, there was nobody around to hide the vicious feelings that tormented him. Today, he was all alone with his thoughts of revenge. A smile, contorted with the hell in which he found himself captive, crossed over thick lips as he gunned his brown Holden Premiere at high speed along the Pacific Highway. He hoped that this night his black snake of malice would find what he sought – his wife. Oh, and when I get my hands on her! Images of his large hands gripping her slender neck paraded through his mind. No longer will she be beautiful! No wife of mine leaves me! She, of all people, should know that! He drove on fixed in resolve, and took as few stops as possible. He turned up the volume to the radio, and as ACDC’s T.N.T blasted from the speakers, he thought about the weeks that had passed since his wife’s departure.

  One of the first things he had done was to pay a visit to the pharmacy where Lilly had worked. He had strolled in there one morning to hear the gasps of the women who worked the floor as they were startled at his unexpected appearance. The first person he approached was a dowdy, pretzel-stick brunette stationed behind the counter.

  “Hi Jenny,” he said after reading the name tag pinned on her white dress.

  It was clear to him his presence had almost turned the woman into a nervous wreck, which baffled him. After all, he had never met her before this moment, so he didn’t understand her stilted reaction. And why was she fidgeting anxiously with her wiry glasses? He silently cursed Rockton where everybody knew everybody else’s business. This woman had been of no help to him at all, so he asked politely to speak with the manager.

  Harry Cornell, who had been hovering behind the medicine shelves beyond the counter listening, reluctantly came out at Glen’s request. He took Glen aside to a corner of the pharmacy, and disclosed to Glen that Lilly had told him two weeks prior to her desertion that she would be resigning.

  “I thought you knew,” he mumbled awkwardly, as Glen explained how Lilly had left him and their children.

  Harry had handed him an envelope addressed to Lilly which had arrived at the pharmacy some weeks after she had left. The envelope displayed the Rockton Bank logo and it was marked in bold as “Confidential”. Glen took the envelope with rising interest.

  He wondered why Lilly would be receiving a letter from the bank. He managed all their household finances; she had no personal business with banking as far as he was aware. Glen saw this as a breakthrough in his search for her, and when he was out on the street, wasted no time tearing open the envelope to find a letter containing information about repayments for a small personal loan of $10,000 in the name of Lilly Anderson.

  “Fucking bitch!” he swore, taking out his rage on a garbage bin that was near to him on the street curb. The bin broadcast a resounding boom as his boot connected with the thin metal. The garbage bin was anchored to a post, but the impact of his kick put a large dent in it. Passers-by quivered at the sudden noise resonating through the air around them. In a reflex, he smoothed back his hair in a moment of embarrassment as he regained his composure, and strolled off down the street as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He knew she would run back to those nosey parents of hers, and now he knew how she found the funds to get to them.

  His next move was obvious, but he didn’t want to give the game away just yet. He avoided calling his in-laws as he wanted her to feel safe. Let her think she’s home free. Let her think he wouldn’t come for her. She did leave some insurance behind for her safety. She left her children, and he knew her enough to know that she was not the kind of mother who could let her children go that easily, and he was well aware why she left them with him. What he didn’t know was how she thought that it would be enough to stop him from coming after her. She was the only person that truly had an inkling of what he was capable of. She could never outsmart him. He would allow a few weeks to pass before making his next move.

  He pressed his foot down on the accelerator as he drove down the highway as he recalled an article he had read in the previous day’s newspaper. The article detailed recent arson attacks to the homes of residents on Queensland’s Gold Coast. Some of the arson attacks had resulted in a number of fatalities. It hadn’t taken long for the beginnings of a plan to pierce through his mind after reading about the attacks. The corners of his mouth twisted again. He was eager to arrive on the Gold Coast, just as she had done the month before him, to land on Albert and Margaret Winston’s front door. Only this time, their visitor would be of the unwelcome variety.

  ***

  The Winstons were just about ready to leave for their weekly Friday bistro dinner and pokies night. After giving their white toy poodle fresh water and her nightly feed, and checking their house was secured, Albert sat in the lounge room waiting for his wife. He was always waiting on his Margaret, and after 45 years of marriage, he found his waiting on her still managed to irk him most of the time. He picked up a crossword and a pen lying on the solid mahogany coffee table in front of him but he could not concentrate on solving it. His empty stomach growled.

  “Oh for God’s sake!” Albert slammed the pen and paper back on the table. “Margaret! Are you ready yet?”

  Margaret flowed into the lounge room on cue with an air of daintiness, dressed from head to toe in a recently purchased linen apple-green three-quarter pants outfit. The gold stitched fabric glided around
her figure as she strode into the room. She had chosen to accessorise her new clothing with a long golden rope that fell in a thick twist around her neck, and matching gold rope around her wrists, with metallic gold sandals on her feet to complete her look. Short hair wisped about her head in loose waves, showcasing the golden hooped earrings that hung from her ears.

  She looked up at Albert with a broad smile. “Yes, I’m ready,” she said.

  She soothed his impatience by performing a dramatic pirouette in front of him. “You like?” Her pencilled-in eyebrows were raised in amusement awaiting his response.

  Albert eyed his wife with a pout. “You look like a piece of fruit,” he said as he lifted himself up off the lounge chair to leave.

  “Hmmm … does that mean you’d like to eat me?” she teased.

  Albert made an unintelligible grunt before allowing his annoyance to dissolve into a smile. He could never stay angry with her for too long. “You look lovely dear. Now let’s get going, shall we?” He reached out to take her hand in his when they heard the ringing of the doorbell.

  They looked to one another other equally puzzled. It was odd for somebody to visit on a Friday evening. Albert envisioned his bistro dinner being delayed yet again. “Now who could that be?” he growled.

  Margaret shrugged in response as she turned towards the heavy oak entrance and made her way to open the door. The doorbell rang again as she reached the threshold, alerting their poodle which bustled to the door with chirpy little barks. Margaret picked up the dog. “Shhhhh, Cha-Cha.” She stroked her tightly curled head. “It’s okay.” Margaret smiled down at her pooch as she swung the door open.

  Her smile froze on her painted face for an instant before fading as her eyes saw who was on the other side of the door.

  Glen smiled his best fake smile. “Mum!” he said. He opened his arms and enveloped her in his embrace before she could regain her composure.