Carl was trying to recall the names of all the girls who he had been with since Hannah had left him. Fourteen years had passed. The one thing that he could never forget, was the feeling of arriving home and finding the note from Hannah. All she said was, goodbye. The piece of paper on which she'd left her message was stuffed at the back of drawer. Unable to throw it away, he didn't want to see it either.
How had she managed to walk out of the door? Other girlfriends had stuck by him despite some pretty appalling behaviour from Carl. Thinking about his actions should have caused remorse, but he found himself grinning. Coming home late, not coming home at all, making them abandon friends and family, moving at a moment's notice, he had done them all.
Carl had treated Hannah well. Money, clothes, beautiful places to live, a pet, what more did she want? There was the fact that they never saw her family. They got a cat when she had wanted a dog. Anthony. Taking her baby away had probably tipped the scales. Still, it had taken some strength of will to leave him.
Hannah. Not once had she left his thoughts for more than a few days. Her image haunted him. What would happen if he found her? Would he be able to persuade her to be with him again? If he touched her and looked into her eyes, would she be able to resist him? It was not often that he doubted his own abilities.
The worst outcome of any meeting would be rejection. The thought of what might happen then, scared Carl. The rage the hurt would trigger could mean that he would lash out. But in the presence of her light he could be unable to attack. All those conflicting emotions, with the demon thrown in, might cause him to combust. Only coming face to face with Hannah, would he know the answer. Opening his wallet, he retrieved the, now, dog eared photo of her. Staring at it, he felt empty before feeling anger. It was the same whenever he saw her face.
Now, he was thinking about his son, too. The boy that someone had named Anthony. Doing the calculation, Carl realised that Anthony was getting near to the age when he would discover exactly what he was capable of. No doubt, he had toyed with inflicting pain on others and influencing people's thoughts. The next stage would see a, new, dangerous force let loose.
Carl's thoughts about Hannah changed each day. Find her and win her back, or find her and kill her. Only coming face to face with her, would reveal which way it was going to go. What if he had told her about himself? What if he had shown her his demon? That was a radical thought to be having.
Simply telling Hannah about all the crimes he had committed would not be a good idea. He gave a wry smile as he thought of how long it would take him to list all the murders and cons now. At least back then, when she had asked about his nature, there were fewer to report. Only having murdered three people would not be any more acceptable to her than having killed dozens.
Admit to having done bad things, talk a bit about her light, Carl didn't know himself exactly how it worked, and then appeal to her to stay and help him fight his demon. Hannah was all about being good and the chance to stop him committing crimes would surely make her come back to him. But he had given away her baby, and that was a stumbling block.
More problems arose as he thought about revealing his true self. Knowing Hannah, she would probably go straight to the police and tell them what he had done. Learning about the murders might damage her mind. Full of guilt for not helping him, maybe she would take her own life. Carl decided that the whole thing was a bad idea.
When they had first moved to the cottage by the sea, they had been happy. Cleaning and decorating the house together. Walks on the beach. Laughter. Making love. Gradually it had all unravelled. That woman in the village, Jane, that was her name, had not helped the situation at all.
Hannah spoke to Jane and suddenly everything became complicated. Questions about the cottage and Mr Grundy. The way that the older woman looked at him, she knew he was wrong somehow. There were people in the world who could see through his veneer. Such bad luck to find one of them in that out of the way place.
Jane, she had started the problem. What had she been whispering in Hannah's ear all those months? It was during their time there that Hannah had started to ask him about his nature. Yes, it was all adding up now. Rather than confront the interfering woman, he had steered clear. Carl should have talked to her and found out what made her different. Maybe he should have just got rid of her.
That was another reason, apart from her pregnancy of course, that Carl had wanted to get Hannah away from the village. Stop her coming under Jane's influence. The pregnancy had been the thing though. Apparently, it had been too late to get rid of it, but he wasn't so sure. All his plans had to change once she dropped that bombshell on him.
Right from the beginning, Carl had known that the baby would have to go. That's why they had to move away to somewhere even more remote. No hospital, no doctors, no prying neighbours, to know that Hannah had given birth, but the baby had gone. The boy, it would definitely be male, would be killed at the first opportunity.
When the child was born, Carl had been surprised to find out that he could not kill him. Hannah's distress, as he was removed from her arms, did something to him. He did love her and, in that moment, he had realised how much. Taking him away was bad enough, he could not murder the baby.
Cobbling together a plan, Carl had shoved the baby in a box with a blanket and then dumped him outside of a shop on the pavement. Someone would find him. He would be saved, but would not be their problem. It was the best he could do in the circumstances. Hannah had suffered again when she heard the news. Her son was alive, but she could not have him.
The weeks and months after that, had seen Hannah slowly recover. Carl had thought that they were back to the way they were before Anthony. In retrospect, it was stupid to think that she would ever recover from having her baby stolen. What a good act she had put on though. Not once did he think that he would go out one day and then come home to an empty house and a one word note. Goodbye.
Carl still owned the cottage. It had a strange sentimental place in his heart. There was no need to return to it, but he would not sell it. A number of tenants had lived there over the years. Everything was taken care of by a letting agency. The money went into his bank account and when he saw a statement, sometimes, his mind would go back to the days in Cartham.