Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [101]
I knew he was hurting the other women, because he hurt me. If anything, I suspected he held back with me. So why did they keep returning for more? I couldn’t understand it. Then I realized, Maybe they think the same about me?
The truth was, I had no choice. I couldn’t have left if I’d wanted to.
Not all Peter’s visitors were female. One day he announced he was going out.
Thank God. A few hours on our own.
‘Don’t go getting any ideas, though,’ he said, ‘because I’ve got eyes everywhere.’
With that he sneered a half-laugh and left. I was just about to pick Daniel up when a thought occurred.
He didn’t lock the door!
Excited, I ran up the hall and turned the handle. I was right. Unlocked. It flung open. And there, walking up the path, was a stranger.
I didn’t know this bloke from Adam, but he was nice enough. A bit rough, but friendly. He just said Peter had asked him to look after me. After what I’d seen Peter do to those women in the house, I was terrified of what ‘look after’ meant.
Has he hired me out? I wouldn’t have put it past him.
But he had literally just come along to make sure I stayed where I was. It happened again and again. Whenever Peter popped out, more often than not, this guy would turn up. God knows what was in it for him because he’d only get a cup of tea for his troubles. Then we’d watch the telly or sit in the garden or I’d cook while he played with Daniel. It was utterly surreal and, I suppose, quite a threatening thing if you think about it. I shudder to think what he might have done if I had tried to leave. It could have all been bluff or it could have led to a world of pain. All I know is, after the initial shock, I didn’t bat an eyelid when he turned up. I was just grateful he was nice. But that didn’t stop me planning my escape.
Peter must have thought he was so clever. He’d terrorized me to the point where I was putting up with all sorts of physical and mental abuse and yet he knew I was too proud to tell anyone. But, just in case, he monitored my phone calls to Granny and I was under round-the-clock surveillance. I had no money, no privacy, no pride. I was broken and utterly dependent on him. He’d won. I was completely under his control. Or so he thought.
Peter made one mistake. However much he trod me down, however close he came to breaking me with this relentless regime of violence and degradation, there was one fact that kept me strong. I was a mother.
The bastard could do whatever he wanted to me, but there was no way I was going to give in and endanger my son’s life for a second longer than necessary. Ever since that moment on the stairs when I’d realized how Daniel was just a poker chip to Peter, I’d been ready. I had my secret bag of 10ps, scrounged and found, and I had my plan. I just needed the opportunity.
Then, one afternoon, just after five, Peter came over to me in the kitchen. The onslaught I braced myself for didn’t come.
‘I’m going to a car auction. I’ll be an hour and a half.’
He’d recently started buying and selling cars, like he’d seen me do in the past, although this auction looked to have caught him off guard because he was in a hurry as he left the house. And he forgot to lock the door.
Normally I wouldn’t have budged. My minder would be just arriving. Not this time though. There was something about the way Peter had been rushing around. This was a last-minute arrangement. He looked flustered, anxious to get out in time.
I bet he’s forgotten about me.
It was a gamble, but one I had to take. If I got it wrong and my prison warden caught me, then there would be hell to pay. But if I was right . . .
Just the idea of freedom put a spring into my step. I flew