Un-ripped and just how I remembered them. I picked up a handful, looking through them. Every single one I’d had—as far as I recalled—was there.
But why had she done this? It had to be Natalie. And how had she done it? Wasn’t she still in jail? I did the calculations in my head, and realised she’d probably been released by now.
Maybe a few weeks in jail had taught her something. She was right, it didn’t make up for everything, but it was a nice gesture.
Cool story, bro. Now text her to say thanks and get on with your life.
Except, I’d deleted her number, and who the hell memorises numbers now? We don’t need to, so we don’t.
You don’t owe her anything. Not even a thank you after all she did to you.
That was true, but she had to have gone to some effort to make this happen. She’d risked the possibility that my mother would yell at her for what she did just to get these back for me. It also meant my mum had given Natalie my address, which I would give her hell for the next time we spoke, but I knew she did it for the right reasons. She may have been useless when she had visited, but she was still my mum and I knew she loved me. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of getting the photos sent to Natalie. I couldn’t help wondering what Natalie had said to her though.
I considered sending a note in the post to her, but that would take too long. Not that she didn’t deserve to wait, but I wanted to get it over with. What else was I doing other than sitting around, letting my thoughts piss me off?
I wanted to say thanks, tell her to not contact me anymore, and move on.
The idea of doing that made me think of Evie—of course it did—and what she’d said about her and Jay at New Year. How they’d never really ended things. There was a very definite end to my relationship with Natalie, and yet, it was all so abrupt. And violent. Although I definitely had no interest in sleeping with her again, maybe one final conversation would draw a line under it for good.
But could I? Was I ready to face her?
A shiver shot through me at the idea of seeing her again. I hadn’t seen her since the day I’d collected my things from the flat, and she’d been crazy that day. She would have hit me if there hadn’t been police to keep her back. But I wasn’t planning to go inside the flat. Outside, where there was potential for people to pass by, and where people would be able to hear me shout out if I needed to, she wouldn’t do anything.
I recognised that needing to have that level of back-up plan should have been a good enough sign that I shouldn’t go, but I was so sick of being stuck inside my own head. And this way, I could actually tell her I didn’t want to hear from her ever again.
Aside from making sure I hadn’t spilled any food on me, I didn’t change anything about my appearance before I left to get the train to Manchester a couple of hours later.
Whenever I went to Evie’s, at least for the last little while, I’d been like a freaking girl, making sure my clothes were okay, my hair was tidy, and my beard was trimmed. To see Natalie, though, I didn’t care. This was going to be a one-time thing and I would be getting the next train home once I’d said what I wanted to say.
All the way there, I felt reasonably calm. I wasn’t thinking about her as the girl I used to love, but the girl who’d abused me. Thinking of her that way had been the biggest turning point for me, because it helped loosen almost all of the hold she’d had on me. It made me stop thinking about all the good times we’d had way back and made me see her for what she really was. I could often still hear her voice in my head, especially when it came to whether I could or couldn’t do something. Those times, she screamed, telling me I couldn’t. I couldn’t achieve, and I couldn’t have friends again, I couldn’t go and hang out with Nick, and I definitely couldn’t be with someone new.
It happened less, but somehow, she was still taking from me.
Again, I questioned myself for going to thank her for the one kind thing she’d done for me in more than a year, but then it hit me. Yes, basic manners was a part of it, but more than anything, I was going there to say goodbye. On my terms. Because even when I’d gone to get my stuff, it still felt like she had the control. I needed to get some of it back. To prove to myself that I was strong enough now.
That all started to slip when I reached the door and I had to press the buzzer, announcing I was there. I would have much preferred to be able to just knock on the door so she wouldn’t know it was me in advance.
My hand shook a little as I pressed and waited.
“Hello?” Her voice crackled through the speaker.
“It’s Ash.”
There was a long pause, and I thought maybe she wasn’t going to let me in. But then there was a buzz, and I pulled open the door.
I walked up the stairs with the enthusiasm of someone walking to their own execution, but I willed myself on until I reached the top and found her there, standing in the doorway.
She looked thinner. She was wearing black leggings and a baggy t-shirt, her hair black and hanging messily around her shoulders; no streaks of another colour for a change. She looked surprised to see me, and I walked closer. But not too close.
“Hi,” she said quietly, her eyes shining with tears.
That used to be enough.
This time, though, her tears had no effect on me, and I was so surprised, I almost laughed. It was another step closer to being free of her.
“Hi,” I said, stopping a couple of feet from her. I didn’t want to give her the impression I was staying. “I wanted to say thank you. For the photos.” She just stared at me and I continued. “It doesn’t mean I forgive you for ripping them up in the first place, or for anything for that matter, but I do appreciate that you went to the trouble of getting them back for me. So, yeah, thanks.”
She didn’t say anything for a second, her eyes on me, and then she straightened up. “You’re welcome.”