Getting Home

Driving home I had to struggle to stay under the speed limit. My heart pounding in my chest the whole way, drowning out my rushing thoughts. By the time I pulled up into the driveway and climbed out of the car I was shaking like a leaf. The world seemed to be spinning, making it hard to walk.

Yet when I pushed open the front door and saw my family. My pretty little daughter Anna and perfect son Matt, sitting on the bottom step of the stairs. Both in their pyjamas and both fast asleep, their small bodies slumped against each other on the steps. For one tiny moment, I managed to regain some control.

I looked up as Marcus came out of the living room, “They wanted to stay up.” He said quietly, gesturing to our children as he hugged me. “We best get them to bed then.”

So we each picked one of our children and tucked them into their beds. All the while my mind racing as the blurry image from the email floated large in my mind. By the time we found ourselves in the kitchen, my cold dinner placed in the microwave whilst my husband talked about the day's event, I was already starting to feel the panic come back.

We sat down across from each other at the dinner table, Marcus had obviously figured out that something was wrong. His inane chatter having dropped off to silence as he watched me from across the table.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, the picture of innocent concern.

Putting down my fork I pulled my tablet from my bag. Pulling up the email and the pictures I set them to loop as a slideshow. I nearly threw it across the table, watching as he picked it up and looked at the pictures. His eyes going wide as he suddenly understood what they were. He flicked back and forth through the pictures his eyes going wide and his mouth silently forming a variety of swears.

Eventually, he put it down and looked at me. “So they want to **** me?”