Part 10: The Truth

“Emily,” his husky voice echoed over the darkening beach, “when I saw the Rowley’s bring you home, and after Lily,” he paused, rubbing his eyes with his hands before looking over at me, eyes red and burning. “I didn’t want to see what happened with her, happen to you.”

“Timothy,” I said, edging towards him, “what happened with Lily was-“

“Don’t make up excuses,” anger began to fill his no longer trembling voice, “you know damn well what they did.” I stared at him, unable to make sense of what he was edging at; what did he mean ‘what they did?’ Who was ‘they?’ “Timothy, Lily killed herself. No one is to blame.” He stared at me, tears beginning to run down his face, freezing halfway down. “You don’t understand,” he said turning away before speaking; “I want you to come with me, so I can keep you alive.”

I stood, with the bitter wind blowing between us, and I realized how serious Timothy was being with me. He wanted me to be safe, to be free again. I took the few steps that separated us, and embraced him in a warming hug, squeezing as tight as I could. “If I come with you,” I began, his head whipping around to look at me, “where would we go?”

He turned around to face me, his hands resting on my hips, looking surprised at my sudden agreement to leave with him. “My parent’s agreed to buy me a house not too far from the school,” he said excitedly, “does this mean you’ll come with me?” He had a smile as wide as the day I saw him; I couldn’t ask him that and not agree to go.

“How will I get away from the Rowley’s?” He smiled, throwing me into his shoulder in a rib crushing hug, and laughing. “Simple!” He explained, releasing me from his hug and coming down to my level before continuing, “one night soon, I’ll come and get you. I’ll tell you more after that.”

Timothy’s plan left me feeling concerned; with my luck, the Rowley’s would probably come to punish me the night Timothy would come to take me away, and everything would fall apart. I didn’t want that to happen. I would have rather had a meeting place somewhere other than the crap shack, but Timothy wouldn’t hear of it, as we took the long and slippery journey up the icy slope home.

When I arrived back at the Rowley’s, saying only a brief goodbye to Timothy, I was greeted by a man in a new suit and a woman wearing a long black dress. They both looked dressed for a funeral, but wore smiles brightly and proud from their faces, meaning this visit was a pleasant one. Mr Rowley introduced them as Mr and Mrs Whitman from the local real estate office, and explained that they would soon be moving.

“I’m glad you got to meet our daughter Emily,” Mr Rowley said, squeezing my shoulders hard, and smiling at the guests as they prepared to leave. “She’s very beautiful, you two are lucky for choosing such a well behaved one too!” Mrs Whiteman said smugly, looking down upon me with shame. What got your knickers in a twist, lady? I thought, smiling and giving a “thank you ma’am,” so as to not “misbehave.”