Echoes in the Woods Georgina Scott (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

what she might find. Seeing George in the distance driving the tractor, she waved. Entering the house was a shock to her system, pretty much every room she went in was smashed up, with no sign of John downstairs. She ventured up to the first floor.

The state of the rooms was pretty much as they were downstairs. Only the beds and mattresses were left intact but nothing else; it was all broken, destroyed and there was clothing everywhere. Faith placed her head in her hands and cried. She found John in the bathroom, slumped in the bath on his back, snoring, covered in his own vomit, saliva and shit. The smell of him turned her stomach into retching, trying not to vomit; she opened the window to alleviate some of the smell. She felt angry, frustrated and betrayed; she turned on the shower and soaked him with cold water until he stirred.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he saw Faith towering over him. Her face was full of rage; he had never seen her look at him like that before. “You fucking stink, look at the state of you, look what you have done to the house, our memories, our boys’ stuff, you selfish fucking bastard,” she screamed at him. “Clean yourself up, you’re a fucking disgrace,” wanting to punch him real hard but instead she threw the shower head at him and went down to the kitchen where she cleaned out the fridge of spoiled food then replenished it with the groceries she had brought with her. She tidied and cleaned a space on the worktop and started to make John something to eat, and put a fresh pot of coffee on.

John stretched and looked down at the state of himself; retching over the smell and the mess as he took off his jeans and t-shirt he cleaned himself up and washed the shit down the plug hole, brushed his teeth and took another shower. He put on his red shorts and t-shirt. He put his soiled clothing in a bag and threw it out of the window, so it could be burned later.

Heading down the stairs and into the kitchen, the smell of food and fresh coffee sent hunger pains into overdrive. He realised he hadn’t eaten for days. “Sit down,” Faith said, after managing to put together the table using two chairs as supports. “I’m sorry.”

“You have been saying that a lot lately,” passing him his food which he devoured in seconds. Sitting down next to him, she gave him his coffee. “Feel better?” she said.

“Much, thanks,” they both sat in silence wondering who will speak first. “How are the boys?”

“Good, they are good. Missing you, always asking for you.”

“I miss them too,” he picked up her damaged hand and placed it in his, cradling and kissing it, rubbing his cheek against it with his eyes closed.

“Does the boyfriend know you’re here?” he said opening his eyes, staring into hers.

“You really know how to ruin a moment. No, he doesn’t and he isn’t my boyfriend either.”

“You’re together, aren’t you?”

“No, John we are not together. We are sleeping in separate rooms as a matter of fact.”

“But I thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you?”

“Are you coming home?”

“Well, you haven’t given us anything to come home to, have you. It’s gone, and you have destroyed everything, all our memories our precious things.”

“Does this mean, you will?”

“You need to get help John. You need to address your issues, and only then we can start talking about our future. But you need to want to do it, only you can change your habits.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you, I have always loved you,” he pulled her onto him wrapping each other in their arms. His heart fluttered and he felt a dark cloud lifting and for the first time in a long time he could see clearly.

***

Later that evening John made himself some food, the house silent and still. Looking across the kitchen, he saw half a bottle of Jack calling him. Wanting, needing him to pick up and have a drink. He walked over to the bottle and picked it up and walked back to the cooker. He was about to take a drink, out of habit but stopped himself and then went over to the sink and poured the contents down the sink. He opened the cupboard where he kept his booze and poured thirty bottles of Jack Daniels and ten bottles of Whiskey down the sink and threw the empty bottles into a black bin bag.

He started with the kitchen and hall, anything that couldn’t be salvaged, he threw in the bin. He made a bonfire out the front and stacked broken furniture that couldn’t be repaired. Other than the makeshift table in the kitchen, pretty much everything went onto the bonfire. He washed down the walls, surfaces and floors. He did the same with the living room. Making his way upstairs, he picked up all the clothes and anything that wasn’t torn went into the wash. He cleaned the house from bottom to top. It was 3 am when he finished.

John went out the front and lit the bonfire and watched it burn. He looked at his watch and realised the time, knowing his guys would be starting work shortly. George arrived twenty minutes later with concern all over his face, “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s never been clearer, George.”

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing. I’m sober and I have cleared and cleaned the house, she was so upset when she saw it. I’m getting my shit together.”

“Come here, you,” George who was built like a giant with hands like shovels, squeezed him tightly, his black wavy short hair moving with the breeze. “It’s good to have you back.”

One by one, the guys turned up to work and all stood around the fire listening to the crackling. “Right okay, get to work you lot,” George said, leaving John standing looking into the fire.

John went into the house and made coffee; he