I’ve only had Messenger
installed a few hours when the call
comes through,
and the voice I fear is there.
Where are you, Allison?
I stare at my screen.
Why did I answer?
What was I thinking?
He has found me.
He has found me
and will make me suffer now.
I’ve been asking everywhere, he says.
I was so worried.
Allison? Allison, answer me.
Is Kelly-Anne with you?
I’m not coming home, I say.
I’m safe.
Beyond the window, a car revs its engine.
A girl shouts.
A man laughs.
Somewhere a lawnmower is grinding grass.
So you did run away. There was me thinking
you’d been murdered and dumped in a layby.
I’ve been a wreck, Allison.
A pause.
You hurt me.
You hurt me, Dad.
And not just that last time.
All the time.
The words are spoken out loud.
Not a murmur in my head.
Not a question.
Not an apology.
The words are spoken out loud.
You didn’t have to run away.
We could have talked.
Did Kelly-Anne put you up to it?
And you hurt me too, you know.
He coughs into the mouthpiece.
Did she already have the baby?
She wouldn’t even give me the chance to be sorry.
One mistake. One mistake.
The room buzzes,
all the electricity running through the walls
suddenly screeching.
She was pregnant?
She stole one kid and made the other one hate me.
Of course.
Yes.
Pregnant.
Of course.
I close the phone,
drop to the carpet,
curl up
and cry harder
than I have
ever done before.