Through The Door

She knew if she walked out the door, things would never be the same.

“You leave this house, young lady, and you won’t be allowed back. I’m warning you, Elizabeth!”

Liz stared at the white panelled door before her. Blue eyes traced the pattern of the wood grain beneath the white paint as she breathed deeply, reining in her rising temper. She would gain nothing if she lost control at this stage.

“Did you hear me, girl? I will not allow you to leave this house!”

A thud sounded behind her and she pictured her father banging the tip of the ancient oak cane on the parquet floor of his study. He didn’t need the cane, just used it to further his image of the gentleman of their community, a man to be trusted and respected, held above his peers. An image she now knew to be false.

“I’m over the age of 21, remember? An adult in my own right and free to make my own decisions.” She turned, the blue kid pumps making no noise on the polished floor, and met her father’s direct gaze with one of her own. Her chin lifted as she refused to back down from his fierce glare, something she had never been able to do before.

“Just because the government allows this free thinking doesn’t mean it happens here.” He surged to his feet and walked from behind the wide mahogany desk that dominated his study. “You would not survive out there without me, without the money I put in your account, without the contacts I find for you so that you can practice your designing. You need me, Elizabeth.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied, her voice calm in the face of his anger. “My practising designing, as you put it, has created more contacts for me than those few you presented me with. People who are willing to pay for the outfits I create for them. I make enough money to no longer need your allowance to live on.”

“And you think that will continue when you walk through that door? It only takes a few words in the right ears and those contacts of yours will disappear faster than a mist on a summer’s morning.”

“My work speaks louder than any words you utter. People know me and know what I can do.” She kept her voice firm although she could not deny the tremor running through her slender frame at his words. Her father was a powerful man in not only their small town but also the neighbouring towns around them. People listened when he spoke, did what he asked without question. He could ruin her if he tried. If she let him.

“Your work? A few scribbles across a page, pieces of material stitched together isn’t work, young lady. Work is getting up early in the morning and grafting until past sundown, feeling your limbs ache from the effort, the sweat trickle down your back as you know you’ve provided for your people.”

“I’m surprised you know what that is. You’ve never done a day’s work where you’ve had to graft until your limbs ache,” she accused, her blue eyes sparking her temper. “The hardest work you’ve ever done is collecting the money earned for you by the real people who graft until past sundown.”

“You ungrateful child!” His face was flushed with rage as he glared at his daughter. Pudgy fingers clenched around the head of the cane, the knuckles white against the pink skin. He lifted the cane slightly, as though contemplating using it against her before driving it back down to the parquet floor with a deep thud. “After all that I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me? You don’t deserve one cent of my money and what’s more, you won’t get it either.”

“I don’t want it. I can make my own money. You can keep your wealth because I want no part of it!” Her voice rose to match his as anger flooded through her. She had known breaking away from his overbearing rule would be difficult but she hadn’t expected this much rage from him.

“And do you think any man will want a part of you once they realise you no longer have access to this?” he waved his hand around the opulent room with its expensive masterpieces hanging from the ornate picture rail. “Men in our circles like their women to have money because money means breeding and a place in society.”

“And men like you love it when their daughters marry men with money because that means even more power for you to exert!” Liz shook her head, her blond hair flowing about her shoulders like a golden curtain. “Well, I’m sorry, but no longer will I be some tempting morsel for you to dangle in front of your bachelor colleagues, eager to make the perfect match for their futures. You can find some other bait to dangle.”

“And you think your biker boy will still want you when you walk out of here with nothing but the money in your purse? You won’t see him for dust, I’ll guarantee that.” An ugly laugh burst forth from him as he thought of his daughter with no money and no boyfriend. “You’ll be all alone, Elizabeth. Alone and penniless, shunned by all who know you. Not a great future for you, honey.”

“It may not be what you consider to be a great future for me but it will be a free future. A future where I can make the decisions about what I do with my life.” Feeling a lightness rising within her she turned and retraced her steps to the white door. As she placed her hand on the brass handle she turned back to her father. “By the way, biker boy isn’t bothered about whether or not I have a fortune.”

“No?” her father’s voice was laced with scepticism as he stared back at her. “He just wants your body, then? I somehow doubt that.”

“Apparently he does. My money has no interest for him since he could buy you out several times over.” She flashed a jaunty smile as her father sputtered behind her and opened the door to step out into her new life.



Parked outside the white painted mansion, the low slung sports car looked at home amongst the other luxury cars sitting on the paved driveway. The tall, muscular man leaning against the side of the car did look out of place. Wearing battered, faded jeans that hugged long legs, a white t-shirt that clung to a broad chest like a second skin and a black leather jacket that shouted bad boy in a loud, clear voice he stood out against the immaculately dressed observers who peered around trees at him.

Liz’s smile widened as she hurried across the paved patio towards the car. The man pushed himself off the side of the car and moved to greet her. Brushing a brief kiss across her lips, he looked down at the leather portfolio and blue holdall she carried.

“Is that everything you wanted from here?” he asked, his accent sending shivers along her spine.

“Yes, there is nothing of importance here for me other than this,” she replied feeling lighter and freer by the second now she was out of the house.

He placed her belongings in the boot of the car before moving around to open the passenger door for her. After seeing her safely seated inside he closed the door and moved around to the driver’s side and slid in next to her.

“You are ready to leave?”

“Yes. I’m ready to live my life the way I want to.” She looked across at him, loving the way his blue eyes glowed at her. “With you.”

“Then let us leave this place, my love.” He turned and pressed the button that would fire the powerful engine to life. “To our new beginning,” he said as he steered the car down the driveway and through the wrought iron gates guarding the entrance.

Liz smiled at that. New beginning. It was what she had been blessed with the day she had met Nik and discovered a courage she had not known she possessed. As they drove through the gates she knew how a prisoner felt as they left their prison. Free.





1401 words.