But it’s gone.

36

I know I received it. I read it. I can still remember bits of it. Vividly, in fact. I’m absolutely certain about it. There’s no way in hell I dreamt it or imagined it. It was far too real. The whole evening was. My neck is still bruised. My elbow is still bloody. My head is still pounding with the force of a million volts. Everything is as clear as it could be, considering the circumstances, and this is no different.

There’s no way I would have deleted it. Not a chance. It was something I knew I needed to read with fresh eyes in the morning. I even remember double-checking I’d locked the doors and put the chain across. It scared the living shit out of me. I didn’t imagine it.

Yesterday is a bizarre mix of blurred memories and absolute clarity. I can still see the look in Cath’s eyes as she said ‘I do’ to Ben. I can hear them being pronounced man and wife. But I’m buggered if I can remember what happened after that, or how we even got home. I can remember in vivid detail what happened when we got home, though.

Those big moments, those adrenaline surges, are clear as day. There’s no way I imagined them. Not any of them. However, Tom’s text…

Boarding flight now. Sorry about last night. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll call you when I get to Japan x

It’s vague. Sorry about last night? That could mean anything. Especially when it’s followed up with I just wanted to make sure you were okay. How is throttling me until I almost lose consciousness making sure I’m okay? But I didn’t imagine that. I can’t have done.

Even though my head is ringing and my stomach is lurching, I head back upstairs and make my way to the bathroom. I take a good slug of mouthwash, which I swill around my mouth and spit out into the sink. That’ll do for now. Then I look up into the mirror.

Sure as anything, there are marks around my neck. And they look like finger marks. To be fair, most of my face and neck looks red and blotchy after yesterday’s events, but there’s no mistaking those particular marks. I wasn’t dreaming. I didn’t imagine it. So Tom’s text was dismissive. It did try to downplay the fact that he’d tried to kill me just a few hours earlier.

And that means the email might have been right. I remember it just as vividly as I do Tom strangling me. I can still remember snippets of it word for word. Devon and Cornwall Police. I bet he calls you Butterfly. GET OUT. Jess Caton.

I go back into my bedroom and grab my phone. Then I pause. No. If that email has disappeared, it’s because someone deleted it. Someone has access to my phone. I can’t risk storing anything sensitive on there.