by TT Kove
Being stitched up was almost a relief, because it brought more pain, but the pain I'd inflicted on myself was being repaired. Well, not repaired, but at least sown back together so I wouldn’t bleed out.
Mum, who’d had to wait outside while they fixed me up, jumped up from her chair the moment she saw me coming.
‘How are you?’ She stared anxiously at my arm, where the new bandage was covered by my jumper.
‘Stitched up.’ That likely wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but I couldn’t lie to her either. I couldn’t say I was good when I was anything but.
‘Come on, Joshua. Let’s get you home. You need rest. And you need to change clothes.’
She was right about that. My arm and hair wasn’t the only ting covered in blood. I probably looked like I’d come right from a massacre.
And I had, hadn’t I? A massacre of my own skin.
I trailed after her outside, cradling my stitched-up arm close to my chest.
We didn’t speak as she drove towards home. I sat with my head resting against the cool glass, and she was busy steering the roads in the rain. I hadn’t even noticed the rain until now.
When we got back to the flat, Mum came inside with me without a word. I was secretly grateful because I didn’t trust myself on my own. Not now. Not with my mind a mess—and with the bathroom an even bigger one. If I’d been alone, I could’ve very well gone back in there and done the same to my right arm as I’d done to my left.
‘Oh my god, the bathroom.’
Mum looked at me, at my horrified realisation.
‘I’ll clean it. Don’t worry.’
I nodded jerkily, grateful she volunteered for the task.
‘Come on. You need to get changed.’ She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and steered me towards my bedroom. ‘I’ll clean the bathroom while you do that. Don’t worry.’
It didn’t take me long to change into joggers and one of Damian’s big, comfy jumpers. One of those with a hood. He wasn’t all that fond of them, except using them at home, but I loved burying myself in them. I loved that they were too big on me, that they seemed to swallow me. They were his and they were a comfort whenever he wasn’t around. They were when he was home too, obviously, but they could never be as much of a comfort to me as being close to Damian was.
I went over to collapse on the sofa, curling in on myself.
Mum came out of the bathroom with the knife, disappearing into the kitchen with it. I heard the sink run, heard her wash it, then silence for a minute before she came back to sit down next to me.
‘In all honesty, Joshua, I feel like I never should’ve told you.’
My blood ran cold.
‘Of course you should have.’ What if she never had? What if I never knew he was out there again? ‘I’d rather know and be a mess, than to have to suddenly see him or have him appear in front of me. At least now I know he’s out there.’ I knew who was stalking me.
‘He won’t come near you, Joshua. You hear that? If he so much as looks in your direction, I’ll have him hauled off to prison again.’
‘But Mum—Even if he doesn’t come after me—he’ll still hurt someone else. Three years in prison won’t change the fact that he’s a sadistic tosser who gets off on kids.’ I was shaking, trembling from head to foot.
‘He’s only on licence. They’re keeping an eye on him. If he does hurt someone else, he’ll be locked up again. For a lot longer this time.’ Mum sighed again. ‘Sadly, there’s not much I can do about preventing him from hurting anyone, Joshua.’
‘It’s not fair.’ No one should have to go through what I’d gone through.
‘Nothing ever is.’ Mum had a far-away look on her face, then she shook it off. ‘Are you hungry? I’ll order us some takeout.’
I nodded quickly, though my stomach was likely too knotted up with pain and worry and bad memories to eat anything.
Mum rose to make the call. I didn’t know what she planned on ordering and I didn’t really care.
My eyes went to the windows. The curtains weren’t drawn. The light from outside—what there was of it, anyway, what with the grey, dreary weather—filtered in.
It felt… wrong that it was still day. It should be dark now. It felt like the whole day had gone by, but it had only been a few hours.
I squinted at the windows. I couldn’t see anyone out there now. Couldn’t see a shape out there, looking right into our living room. Couldn’t see a person look in, though a lot of them walked past. Maybe I hadn’t really seen something that night, either. Maybe it was just a figment of my imagination. Maybe I’d simply been tired. There were a lot of explanations—better ones than Andrew’s stalking me.
Surely it couldn’t be him.
But the fact that Mum was here… that made me feel a lot better. Because no matter what I tried to tell myself, I wasn’t at all sure.
I was sure I’d seen someone the night before last—and my gut told me it had been Andrew. But who would believe me if I told them? Everyone was convinced he wasn’t going to risk more prison time by coming near me again.
They didn’t know him. Damian had never met him, and Mum didn’t know him either. He’d put on an act all those years for her. I was the only one who knew what a monster he really was.
And I knew I wasn’t safe.
I knew he was out there, biding his time. That he’d want revenge.
The shame of sitting in A&E wounded, bloody and waiting to be stitched up, was nothing compared to the shame I felt once Damian came home.
He was early, a lot earlier than usual, home before both Silver and Kian, which was quite unusual these days.
I bent my head down, not able to face him.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ I tried to fight the pressing tears, I really did.
‘What are you sorry for?’ I could hear he was bewildered. Of course he was.
He had no idea.
Yet.
‘Josh?’
Mum moved away from me, and Damian took her seat.
I still couldn’t look at him. His hand gently touched my arm, just barely brushing the fabric of the jumper.
‘Why’d you cut again, Josh? Three months…’
‘I know it’s been three months!’ I hadn’t planned on yelling at him, but it erupted from me like lava from a volcano. ‘I know I failed. Like I fail everything!’
‘Josh, I never said—’ We were so close his knee and thigh rested against mine.
‘He’s out,’ I whispered, anguished. ‘He’s out on the streets. Right out there.’
‘Josh…’
Sobs overcame me, big ones that hurt and took my breath away.
‘I’m so sorry.’
He tipped me sideways so I could rest my head on his shoulder.
‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.’ He whispered it close to my ear. ‘I know better than anyone what his actions are still doing to you.’
He should know, considering he shared a bed with me. He woke me up from the nightmares whenever they were particularly bad—except when he wasn’t there.
I hate late mornings.
Every morning he wasn’t there in the bed with me, was the worst morning in my entire existence.
‘If he gets hold of me, he’ll hurt me again. And if not, he’ll hurt someone else. No matter what, I can’t even bear to think about it.’ I sniffled, curling my arms up against my chest, feeling the sting of pain as I pressed them close. ‘I couldn’t take it, so I cut. I cut deep.’
His arms around me tightened, a tell-tale sign he was distressed.
‘How much? How much did you cut?’
‘Over all of it.’ All the old scars. ‘On my left arm.’ At least my right one was unscathed—or as unscathed as it could be, being completely covered in old scars.
‘Did he see anyone at the hospital?’ This question was directed at Mum.
She didn’t answer verbally, so I assumed she shook her head.
‘If I’m going to see anyone, it’s Vi
ncent.’ I didn’t want to speak to anyone else. He’d been with me ever since my suicide attempt, six years ago now. He knew everything about me. ‘Only Vincent. He’s the only one who understands.’
I didn’t know what I’d do if he ever quit practicing, or if he moved, or if he for some reason or another couldn’t see me again.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I couldn’t stop saying it. I’d failed again.
When would I ever stop failing at every single thing in my life? I wasn’t good for anything.
‘Josh.’ He squeezed my shoulder, hugging me tightly. ‘You don’t have to apologise to me. Not for anything, not ever.’
Of course I do.
I messed up—he had to deal with it… of course I had to apologise. Once again I’d let Andrew drag me back down into despair, even after all these years…
‘You’ve got blood in your hair.’ He touched said hair, then broke the hug and stood. I heard him walk away.
I hunched on the sofa, listening anxiously to what he was doing. Was he leaving me? But no… He came back with a wet cloth. The water was warm, he’d made sure it wouldn’t be cold, as he washed the blood out of my hair.
I hoped he got everything—I didn’t relish sitting there with blood all over me.
Though I had walked into A&E with blood all over me, clothes and all, so what did it really matter if I sat like this at home?
The front door opened, and both Silver and Kian spilled inside, joking and laughing with each other. They were so easy-going with each other. Damian and I had never had that. I had issues too big to ever be so carefree.
Their smiles faded simultaneously as they got a good look at me, and the cloth Damian was using to wash the blood out of my hair.
I looked away. I couldn’t face seeing more disappointment.
‘Hey, lads.’ It was Mum greeting them.
I was too busy staring at the black telly. I didn’t know what else Damian was doing, besides scrubbing my head with the wet cloth.
‘What’s happened?’ That was Silver. He sounded worried.
Well, he should be. He’d been living with me for three years, he knew how it usually ended. Hospitalised, until I got better. Then a period of all being well, before the downward spiral started all over again.
It was the same bloody pattern every bloody time.
It never stopped.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Damian said and I figured he must be silently communicating with Silver. They’d been mates a long time—they knew each other well. And Silver didn’t say anything else because he understood.
‘You can just tell them. I’m going to take a shower.’ I felt dirty. Shamed and humiliated.
Mum grabbed my unharmed arm as I stood.
‘Careful of the stitches.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’ve done this before, you know.’ I whispered it, it wasn’t an accusation or anything like that, but she drew in a sharp breath anyway.
Go me.
Reminding her yet again what a mess I was—what he’d made me into.
The bathroom was warm and empty and any traces of blood was gone. I didn’t know if it was heaven or hell. Maybe both.
When I was with people, I wanted to be alone. When I was alone, I wanted to be with someone.
The bathroom was the most triggering room in the flat.
This is where I always end up, curled on the floor or in the bathtub, arms cut up, blood all over, knife or razor at the ready…
I kept my injured arm braced against the wall as I showered. The shower head faced away from it, the hot water hitting me anywhere but that arm. The gauze was relatively dry when I got out, only a few damp spots.
I dressed in the clothes I’d only changed into a few hours before. Comfort clothes, though they weren’t of much comfort now. Maybe Damian would be, especially if we were alone.
They were all out there when I finished. Talking about me, which was obvious from the way they stopped talking once the bathroom door opened. What had they been saying about me?
‘I’m going to bed.’ I couldn’t face them anyway. I wanted to be alone, after all.
Silver’s attention moved away from me, instead he focused on Kian. He made a motion with his head towards the kitchen, and Kian nodded briefly.
‘I’m sorry, Josh.’ Silver’s grey eyes met mine.
I looked down, unable to make eye-contact. Gave a tiny nod.
‘I’m sorry.’ That was Kian, his voice lighter, more high-pitched than Silver’s deep one.
A tiny nod again. Still staring at the floor.
They headed into the kitchen, leaving me with just Damian and Mum for company.
I was grateful to Mum for all she’d done, for coming to help me no matter what she’d been in the middle of, and for staying with me. But right now all I wanted was Damian to myself.
Mum must’ve sensed it. Or read it on my face or in my body language or whatever.
‘You’re in good hands now. I’ll leave the two of you alone.’ She came over and hugged me, something she only did when things were really bad. She wasn’t much of a hugger, never had been, but after finding out about Andrew she tried her best. Like I did. We both tried our best in a shitty situation.
‘Thank you.’
For everything.
‘There’s nothing to thank me for. I’ll always be here for you.’
Was she ever going to stop being guilty for never noticing? That was probably as likely as me forgetting what had happened to me. We’d both have to live with it for the rest of our lives. Be messed up about it.
She left.
Now there was only Damian, and I finally dared lift my head. He was studying me, all silent and thoughtful.
‘Say something.’ I couldn’t stand silence. Not now. Not when I’d messed up and I didn’t know what would happen next. Would this be the time he’d had enough?
‘I wish you’d rung me.’
More guilt.
‘You were at uni.’
‘I had my phone on.’ He came closer, put his hands on my shoulder. ‘Andrew’s been released from jail… You really think I’d keep my phone off right now? I know how much the thought of him still haunts you. I wanted to be available in case you needed something. Besides, it’s only revision now. For the Exam Board next week. I don’t have actual lectures.’
‘I didn’t know.’ I bent my head again. ‘You didn’t say.’
He drew me into an embrace.
‘I didn’t think I had to.’
I lifted my arms slowly, almost hesitantly, and then I was clinging onto him for dear life. Like he was the only thing that could keep me grounded, that could keep me in the here and now, and not fall further into that endlessly black spiral.
‘You want to go to bed?’ He said it against my ear, his cheek resting against mine.
‘You’ve just come home. You haven’t eaten or anything.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’ He steered us in the direction of the bedroom. ‘Come on.’
I was too weak to argue with him about it. Too selfish, maybe, because all I did want was to have him in bed with me.
He changed into his comfy clothes when we got into the bedroom while I sank down on the bed, watching him.
He really had a nice body, all tall and broad and toned.
It was too bad I never got to see it much.
The both of us always slept in clothes, even after the few times we’d had sex. Last time had been back in January, on my birthday.
‘What?’
He’d caught me looking.
‘Nothing.’
‘You were thinking hard about something.’ He came over to stand in front of me.
I looked up.
‘Just admiring the view.’
His eyes narrowed a fraction. I didn’t know if he didn’t understand my meaning or if he didn’t appreciate it. I’d said it to him before, we’d been together three years after all, but he always seemed to wriggle out of the topic, changing it.
He bent ov
er, hands grabbing both sides of my face, and then he kissed me.
If anything could get my mind onto something else, it was kissing him. It was something that didn’t happen all that often either—though in relation to sex it was relatively frequent.
I knew he loved me, but he wasn’t interested in intimacy. Not sex, which he was completely uninterested in. He only had it with me because I wanted it. He didn’t dislike kissing though, but I definitely cared more for it than he did.
What I definitely didn’t care for was him standing while I was sitting. I wanted him on the bed with me, so I leant backwards, and he followed without breaking the kiss.
He landed on top of me, and considering everything that had happened to me during my childhood, the feel of another man on top of me should’ve made me panic. It didn’t, not with him.
I wanted him, but he didn’t want me, not in quite the way I craved him. Not as often as I wanted it.
I knew it, and he knew it, and we managed.
He’d suggested last year I could have sex with other people if I wanted, but I had no desire for that. It was only him, so when he didn’t want to do it, I managed with my right hand. Or left, whichever worked at the time. Sometimes, rarely, though not as rare as sex itself, he offered his hand to help me out.
It was often in my good periods all the sexual stuff happened though. And they didn’t come around often and sure didn’t stay that way for long.
Besides, sex had never given me anything good in my life. Especially not with Andrew, but never really with the one-offs I’d indulged in either. But life with Damian, with sex once or twice a year if I was lucky, was as good as I would likely ever feel.
He broke the kiss and rolled over, so now we were both on our backs, shoulder to shoulder.
‘Will you ring me next time?’
‘Next time I need to go to A&E?’
‘Well, yeah, but I meant generally. Whenever you need to.’ He grabbed my hand, twining our fingers together. ‘I’ll always be here for you, no matter what else I’ve got to do. You and your health come first.’
That was sweet of him.
I rolled over, rested my head on his shoulder and put my stitched-up hand on his chest. He had a scar hidden underneath that T-shirt, a big one going from shoulder to hip. It was part of why he never showed much skin around me—and especially not around anyone else.
