Why did you go through my laptop? A Mystery Behind an Unfamiliar Gaze
What on earth are you doing on my laptop? I snapped, towering over Emily. I had never seen her so startled before
Emily had just come home from school and the pungent odour of drink hit her in the hallway. From the living room, loud snoring rumbled. Her father was drunk again. The girl went straight into the kitchen.
Mum was at the sink, peeling potatoes. At the sound of footsteps behind her, she turned. Emilys sharp eyes immediately spotted her mothers red, swollen cheek.
Mum, lets just leave him. How much more can we take? Hell kill you one day, Emily said, her voice trembling with anger.
Where would we go? Who would have us? We cant afford rent. Dont be scared, he wont kill me. Hes a coward. He only lashes out at me.
The next morning, Emily awoke to strange sounds. Rising, she peered into the kitchen. Her father was slumped by the cooker, neck thrown back drinking directly from the kettle. Emily stood transfixed, watching his Adams apple bob up and down, up and down. She could almost hear the water gurgle down his throat. Choke. she begged silently. Please God, let him choke. hatred boiling up inside her.
But her father didnt. He set the kettle down with a satisfied sigh, shot her a bloodshot glance, and shuffled past her towards the bathroom.
Emily grimaced, remembering her mum would probably fill the kettle again without washing it, the taste and smell of her father lingering. She took the kettle herself and scrubbed it until it gleamed, vowing never to drink from it again without cleaning it first.
That winter, Emily went on a three-day school trip to Manchester. When she returned, her mum was in hospital.
Did he hit you? she snapped, seeing her mums head swathed in bandages.
No, darling. I slipped on some ice, her mother replied softly.
But Emily knew better.
Frequent blows to the head had given her mum high blood pressure. Six months later, she suffered a stroke and died. At the wake, Emilys father wept drunkenly, sometimes regretting losing his beloved Mary, other times cursing her memory.
He told Emily she was just like her motherand threatened that if she ever tried to leave him too, hed kill her. Emily couldnt wait to finish sixth form. She didnt attend prom. The next day, she quietly picked up her diploma from the admin office. While her father was at work, she packed her things and ran away.
Her father gave her a modest allowance for food, but Emily secretly put some aside. Sometimes she even pinched notes from his pocket while he slept. It wasnt much, but she managed. Shed long ago decided to leave, get a job, perhaps study part-time later.
She wasnt worried hed find her. Everyone on the estate knew his waysno one would help him look. She moved to a big city, found a cheap little flat on the outskirts, and landed a job at a chain called QuickBite. They helped her sort out paperwork, gave her free meals
She registered for a business admin diploma at a local college. When her bosses heard she was studying accounting, they put her on the till.
The lads at work tried to chat her up. But she remembered her mums words: At first theyre all charming and gentle, then the drinking or cheating starts. Still dont know which is worse. Dont be taken in by their sweet words, love. Be careful. I was pretty once. Your father didnt drink when we met. We were in love. What happened? Where did it all go wrong? shed sigh.
So Emily kept to herself, not answering the boys advances. Shed seen enough, growing up.
On paydays, her mum would always stock up on the essentials: pasta, sugar, cereals, tinned foodsimple but enough. Her dad wasted his money on booze, but there was always food in the house, even if it was dull and plain. Now Emily did the same.
One evening, she trudged home, arms aching from the heavy bag. Up ahead, a young man approached, glued to his phone. Emily hoped hed notice and step aside, but he bumped straight into her.
Sorry, he said, looking up from his screen.
Emily wanted to snap, but caught a glimpse of his apologetic grin, and felt her irritation melt away.
Its okay, I wasnt watching either, she replied. And she smiled.
He offered to help. Emily hesitated, but handed over the bag. Surely someone with such a warm smile couldnt be bad. They introduced themselves. His name was Alex. He carried her bag to her building, but Emily didnt let him walk her all the way to her flat.
The next day, he showed up at QuickBite. Claimed it was just chance, but Emily doubted that. They started seeing more of each other.
Alex was upfront: he was divorced with a daughter he adored. Hed left the flat to his ex-wife and was staying with a mate. Said the marriage was a mistake.
We just werent right for each other. Had nothing in common. Some days, we wouldnt even talk.
He spoke often of his little girl. Emily thought, maybe you can trust a man who loves his child. A month later, Alex floated the idea of moving in together.
Lets get a nicer flat, closer to the centre. Things are just easier when youre not on your own.
Emily agreed, floating on happiness. At last, a chance for a normal family life. They moved into a spacious flat, celebrated their new life together in a simple way. Emily didnt dream about marriage or the future. Alex talked of having childrena boy and a girl, he insisted. And Emily began to believe it.
Alex paid the rent for two months upfront. In the third month, apologetically, he explained he was having financial troubles and shed need to cover things for a while. Emily agreed, trusting him, still so grateful to have someone who seemed to care.
But months later, after more empty promises and quiet arguments, Emily was left packing her things once againthis time carrying her unborn sons hope with her as she closed the door quietly behind her, whispering a vow to the tiny life waiting in the maternity ward, Well be all right, sweetheart, well get far, far away from all of this.She left behind Alexs keys and an envelope with her share of the last months rent. For the first time, there was no dread in her chestonly the faint but steady thrum of determination. With each step away from the building, the citys lights grew softer, blurred by her tears but sparkling all the same. The air was cool and new.
Outside the hospital, she paused, pressing her palm against the gentle curve of her belly. We have each other, she whispered, and that is enough.
Inside, the maternity ward was bright and full of whispers. When Emily finally held her son, tiny fists curled stubbornly at his cheeks, she felt the last fragments of the life shed run from fall away. No trace of her father, no echo of Alexs empty charmonly her own voice, her mothers gentle lessons, and this fierce, fragile child.
Welcome home, she murmured, gazing into newborn eyes wide with possibility.
The future wasnt promised, but neither was the past a prison. Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, bent her head, and began to sing, filling the bare white room with hopereal and ordinary, as solid as her own courage. The unfamiliar gaze in the mirror, for the first time, belonged wholly to her.
And with that, the mystery was gone. In its place stood a girl who had become her own answera woman determined never to let darkness have the last word.
Why Were You Snooping on My Laptop? – A Mystery Behind a Stranger’s Gaze
