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

“What the hell are you doing in my laptop?” Alex snapped, towering over Emily. Shed never seen him like this before.

Emily had just come home from school and already caught the heavy stench of alcohol in the hallway. Loud snoring echoed from the living roomher father was drunk again. She went straight to the kitchen.

Her mother stood at the sink, peeling potatoes. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned. Emilys sharp eyes immediately caught the red, swollen bruise on her cheek.

“Mum, lets just leave him. How much longer can we take this? Hell kill you one day,” Emily said, fury simmering in her voice.

“And go where? Whod take us in? We cant afford rent. Dont worry, love, he wont kill me. Hes a coward. Only dares to raise his fists at me.”

The next morning, Emily woke to strange noises. She crept to the kitchen and found her father at the stove, head tilted back as he gulped straight from the kettle. She watched, hypnotised, as his Adams apple bobbed up and down. The sound of the water trickling down his throat made her stomach turn. *Drown. Please, God, just let him drown.*

But he didnt. He set the kettle down with a satisfied sigh, his bloodshot eyes flicking to her before he brushed past toward the bathroom.

Emily grimaced, knowing her mother would refill the kettle without washing it firststill tainted with his spit and the stench of booze. She scrubbed it clean with a brush, vowing never to drink from it without cleaning it herself.

During winter break, Emilys class went on a three-day trip to Manchester. When she returned, her mother was in hospital.

“Did he hit you?” she demanded, staring at the bandage wrapped around her mothers head.

“No, love. Just slipped on the ice.”

But Emily knew she was lying.

The beatings had left her mother with high blood pressure. Six months later, she had a stroke and died. At the funeral, her father wept drunken tears, sometimes mourning his “beloved Margaret,” other times cursing her for abandoning him.

He told Emily she was just like her motherthreatened that if she ever tried to leave, hed kill her too. Emily counted the days until she finished sixth form. She skipped prom. The next day, she quietly collected her diploma from the office while her father was at work, packed her things, and ran.

Her father gave her money for food, and Emily skimmed a little off each time, sometimes even pinching notes from his pocket while he slept. It wasnt much, but enough to get by. Shed long decided shed work and study part-time instead.

She wasnt afraid hed come looking. The whole neighbourhood knew his habitsno one would help him find her. She moved to London, rented a cheap flat on the outskirts, and got a job at a fast-food chain. They helped her with her food hygiene certificate and gave her free meals.

She enrolled in college for accounting, and when her bosses found out, they moved her to the till.

Boys tried flirting with her. “Theyre all sweet at first,” her mother used to say. “Then they start drinking or cheating. Dont fall for their pretty words, love. I was beautiful once too. Your father didnt drink when we met. We were in love. What happened? What changed?”

Emily remembered those words and ignored the boys advances. Shed seen how her parents lives turned out.

On payday, her mother would buy groceries in bulkpasta, sugar, tinsenough to last. Her father wasted money on drink, but there was always food, even if it was plain. Now, Emily did the same.

She lugged a heavy bag home, arms aching, when a boy glued to his phone bumped into her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, finally looking up.

Emily wanted to snap, but he had kind eyes and an easy smile.

“Its fine. Wasnt looking either,” she said, smiling back.

He offered to help. Reluctantly, she handed over the bag. Someone with a smile like that couldnt be all bad. They talked. Alex carried her shopping home, but she didnt let him walk her to the door.

The next day, he showed up at her work. “Just passing by,” he claimed, but Emily knew better. They started seeing each other.

Alex admitted he was divorced, that he adored his little girl. Hed left the flat to his ex and was crashing at a mates. “Married too young,” he said. “We had nothing in common. Some days, we barely spoke.”

He talked so much about his daughter that Emily thought maybejust maybeshe could trust a man who loved his child. A month later, Alex suggested moving in together.

“Lets get a nicer place, closer to town. Easier that way.”

Emily agreed. She was over the moon. A proper family. They moved into a spacious flat, celebrated their fresh start quietly. She didnt dream of weddingsbut Alex did. He wanted two kidsa boy and a girl. And Emily let herself believe it.

Alex paid two months rent up front. By the third, his tone shifted.

Emily took one last look at the flat where shed thought shed found happiness, then shut the door firmly, whispering a promise to her son waiting in the NICU: *”Well be alright, love. Well be far away from all this.”*