Why Did You Break Into My Laptop? – A Mystery Behind an Unknown Gaze

**”What Are You Doing on My Laptop?” A Mystery Beneath an Unknown Gaze**
“What the hell are you doing on my laptop?” Alex snapped, looming over Eleanor. She had never seen him like this before.
Eleanor had just come home from school and the moment she stepped into the hallway, the sharp reek of alcohol hit her. From the living room came the deep, ragged sound of snoring. Her father was drunk again. She walked straight past, heading for the kitchen.
Her mother stood at the sink, peeling potatoes. Hearing footsteps, she turned. Eleanors sharp gaze immediately caught the swollen, red mark on her cheek.
“Mum, lets just leave him. How much more can we take? One day, hell kill you,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling with anger.
“And go where? Who would take us in? We cant afford rent. Dont worry, he wont kill me. Hes a coward. Only brave enough to take it out on me.”
The next morning, Eleanor woke to strange noises. She crept into the kitchen and froze. Her father stood by the stove, head tilted back, gulping tea straight from the pot. She watched, transfixed, as his Adams apple bobbed violently. The liquid gurgled down his throat like sewage. *Drown. Please, God, let him drown.*
But he didnt. He set the pot down with a satisfied sigh, his bloodshot eyes flicking to her before he staggered past toward the bathroom.
Eleanor grimaced, knowing her mother would refill the pot without washing it firstleaving traces of his spit and stench behind. She snatched it up and scrubbed it furiously, vowing never to drink from it again without cleaning it herself.
That winter, Eleanors class went on a three-day trip to Manchester. When she returned, her mother was in hospital.
“Did he do this?” she demanded, seeing the bandages wrapped around her mothers head.
“No, love. Just slipped on the ice.”
But Eleanor knew she was lying.
Years of blows to the head had left her mother with high blood pressure. Six months later, she suffered a stroke and was gone. At the wake, her father wept drunken tearssometimes mourning his “beloved Margaret,” other times cursing her for leaving him.
He swore Eleanor was just like her mother, threatening that if she ever tried to leave, hed kill her too. Eleanor counted the days until graduation. She skipped prom, collected her diploma in secret, and while her father was at work, packed her things and ran.
He gave her money for foodmeagre amountsbut she saved what she could. Sometimes, she even stole from his wallet while he slept. It wasnt much, but it was enough. She had decided long ago: work first, studies later.
She wasnt afraid hed come looking. Everyone in their neighbourhood knew his habits. No one would help him find her. She fled to London, rented a tiny flat on the outskirts, and got a job at a fast-food chain. They helped her sort out her work permits, gave her free mealssmall mercies.
She enrolled in an accounting course at a vocational college. When her employers found out, they put her on the till.
Boys flirted with her. *”Theyre all sweet at first, then they start drinking or cheating. I dont know which is worse. Dont be fooled by pretty words, love. Be careful. I was beautiful once too. Your father didnt drink when we met. We were in love. What happened? What changed him?”*
Eleanor remembered her mothers warnings and ignored the boys advances. Shed seen where love led.
Her mother had always stretched their money thinstocking up on pasta, tins, cerealanything that lasted. Her father drank his wages, but there was always food, even if it was plain. Now, Eleanor did the same.
One evening, struggling with heavy bags, she collided with a boy glued to his phone.
“Sorry,” he muttered, finally looking up.
She meant to snap at himbut his smile was warm, disarming.
“Its fine. I wasnt looking either,” she said, forcing a smile.
He offered to help. Reluctantly, she handed over a bag. Someone with a smile like that couldnt be all bad. His name was Alex. He walked her homethough she refused to let him see her door.
The next day, he turned up at her work. *”Just passing by,”* he claimed. She didnt believe him. They started seeing each other.
Alex was honestdivorced, with a little girl he adored. Hed left his wife the flat and was crashing at a mates. *”We married too young. Had nothing in common. Some days, we barely spoke.”*
He talked endlessly about his daughter. Eleanor thought maybejust maybeshe could trust a man who loved his child. After a month, Alex suggested moving in together.
“Lets get a nicer place, closer to town. Its easier together.”
She agreed, dizzy with hope. A normal family. A fresh start. They rented a bright flat, toasted their new life. Alex talked about kids*”A boy and a girl, definitely”*and Eleanor let herself believe it.
He paid two months rent upfront. But by the third, his tone shifted. *”Works been slow”*
Then came the excuses. The moods. The first time he raised his voicethen his hand.
Now, standing in the empty flat, Eleanor took one last look at the place where shed dared to dream of happiness. Then she shut the door firmly, whispering a promise to the son waiting for her in the NICU:
*”Well be alright, my love. Well be far away from all of this.”*