by TT Kove
‘I will.’ Unless I wouldn’t. I was aware of how I could be, about what came with my disorder. Unstable emotions, impulsiveness… plus a whole host of other things, but those were the big ones with me.
Oh, and the self-injury part too.
And apparently paranoia. But I was ninety percent sure I wasn’t paranoid. That he was stalking me.
‘Good.’ His arm curled over my back, hand gripping my shoulder.
I drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Laying like this was good. Me and him, together. Nothing could hurt me here in bed, with only the two of us. Nothing but nightmares, anyway, there was no stopping them. They came whenever they felt like it and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
26
Third Anniversary
Josh
‘Hi, Joshua.’ The cold voice came from behind me, the goose bumps flashing down my spine as all thoughts disappeared from my mind. Strong hands grabbed me, pulled me further into the house.
I stumbled and crashed to the floor as he shoved me through my bedroom door. I tried to catch myself with my hands, but my wrists gave out and the meeting with the cold floor was painful.
Andrew stepped inside after me and as I heard the door close, I knew this was it. There was no getting away from him. Not that I ever could, but I always hoped I would, anyway.
I lay still on the floor, my eyes squeezed shut and arms folded underneath my chest. He sighed in annoyance, then reached down, grabbing the back of my shirt and yanking me back up.
He slammed me up against the wall, and I couldn’t help the pained grunt that left me. His free hand came up, closing around my neck, tightening dangerously. He smirked at me as my eyes flew open, the tears welling involuntarily as I struggled to breathe.
‘Tell me, Joshua.’ He was snarling now. ‘Where’ve you been all night? I’ve been waiting for you. You never showed up.’
His grip loosened enough for me to answer.
‘Didn’t know I had a curfew.’ It came out strangled, hoarse, and then I gasped again as his grip tightened back up. This would leave a bruise—if it didn’t leave me dead of asphyxiation first.
‘Don’t be smart with me!’
‘Let me go!’ I clawed at his forearm in a vain attempt to try and fight myself free. I was losing my breath fast, he was clutching my throat so tight—
‘Tell me where you’ve been!’ He loosened his grip again.
‘Partying! I’ve been out partying!’
‘Is that the truth?’ He asked it in a low, dangerous tone. ‘Just partying?’
‘Yes! It’s the truth!’ It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. But if I hurled it in his face now I’d gone and had sex with someone else, he’d kill me for sure.
‘I don’t know if I believe you.’ His grip tightened again. ‘I don’t believe you at all, you little twat.’ With that, he stepped away, hand falling away from my throat.
I ducked forward into a severe coughing fit, and now it was my hands at my neck, touching the skin lightly, feeling the damage.
‘Good little liar you’ve become, hmm?’ He came back up close to me, hands pulling at my clothes.
The tears fell then, running freely down my cheeks as I realised I wasn’t going to get away. That he wasn’t going to back off. But I didn’t fight; I never fought it, because I just wanted it to end. The more pliant I was, the quicker he was out of my bed and back in his own.
But it only served to make me hate myself more.
‘Josh?’
‘No!’ I groaned, rolling away from the shaking. ‘No, please!’ Not again, I couldn’t take another round.
‘Josh!’
A warm hand cupped my cheek, stroking lovingly.
He never does that.
‘Josh, come on. Wake up.’
The voice was close to my ear and then a cheek rested against mine. There was light stubble on it, and it was all very familiar.
‘Damian.’ I reached up, tangling my fingers in his hair, holding him down tight against me.
‘Yeah. You’re okay now. You were only dreaming.’ His arms slid around me.
I drew in a shaky breath. My throat felt raw, hurting, like I truly had just been choked. I wondered if I got up right now to look at myself in the mirror, if there would be bruises there.
‘Shhh.’ He rocked us gently, something that always tended to calm me down whenever I woke up from one of my nightmares.
I turned in his grip, and though it was too dark to see him, I folded in close.
‘I’m sorry I woke you.’ The fabric against my cheek was definitely a T-shirt, his favourite piece of clothing to sleep in.
‘Nothing to apologise for.’ His arms were still around me, his palms splayed over my back. He made me feel so calm, so good, so safe whenever we lay like this.
I hated when I woke him up with my nightmares. At the same time I was also grateful, because I didn’t have to wake up on my own in a panic when the nightmares got too bad.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘It’s the same. He was choking me and—well. Yeah. You know.’
Damian tensed up at my words, likely because he could very well imagine it after being with me for so long. Even if he was indifferent to sex, and had never done it with anyone but me, it was still easy to picture.
In the beginning, before I’d properly understood that he never wanted to have sex with anyone ever, not just me, I’d tried to push him sometimes. It never ended well. He was absolutely sure of himself, that he’d never want it, that he didn’t even have a flicker of curiosity.
It had been weird to get used to the no-sex in the beginning. I’d been sexualised at a very early age—it had almost always been a part of my life. And everywhere I turned, I was bombarded with it. Everyone who was in a relationship had sex—if they didn’t, something was very wrong.
But we… we never had it. We never would. And yet our relationship was a strong one, no matter how people kept on about how sex was an important part of an intimate relationship.
Then, last year, he’d changed his mind. We’d tried sex. I’d thought it’d been great, he’d been entirely underwhelmed. But he was willing to do it with me on special occasions, like my birthday.
It was more than I’d ever thought I’d get with him. I was happy with the situation as it was now. I’d be happy even if there were no more sex. Just being with him, being close like this, was enough.
‘I love you.’ I whispered it against his T-shirt. ‘I’ll try not to slip up again.’
‘Josh.’ My name came out a sigh. ‘Don’t make those kinds of promises. It only makes it worse for you when you do slip up.’
‘You think I will?’
‘Yeah.’ Delivered in a short, clipped tone. Like he was absolutely certain of it. But I couldn’t blame him. I always slipped up. I always ended up cutting myself again.
‘I love you too.’ He pulled me in tighter. ‘You ready to go back to sleep? I’m knackered.’
‘Yeah, okay.’ I had no trouble with sleep. I was half-asleep already, and with him there my nightmare faded into the background. He was safe, he was there for me, always, and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt me.
‘Cooper asked me out tonight.’
Damian glanced at me as we walked up to the door of his uncle and aunt’s house.
‘You should go out. Have some fun.’
‘You think so?’ I didn’t know if I was up to going out. My arm hurt, the nightmares and the memories still plagued me. I wasn’t in a party-kind of mood. I wasn’t even in a mood to have dinner with anyone else but Damian, but we’d already promised, so here we were.
‘Yeah.’ He rang the bell.
‘Do you want to come?’
Please, say yes.
‘No.’ He gave me an apologetic smile.
I hadn’t expected anything else. He didn’t like to go out at all. Most I could drag him to nowadays was the pub with our mates, but definitely not out clu
bbing. And definitely not with Cooper.
Damian wasn’t much of a fan of his. Cooper was an acquired taste—one Damian had never learned to appreciate. Whether he disliked Cooper or Chad more was still up in the air. They probably shared first place on that list.
The door opened, revealing Claire’s smiling face.
‘Come in! You don’t have to ring the bell.’ She said that every time, yet Damian kept ringing it every time.
The house smelled of whatever it was she was making for dinner. Everything she made whenever we were over, was delicious. I smiled at the thought that whatever this was would as well.
‘What’re we having?’ I asked, perking up a little at the simple thought of food.
‘Roast.’ She beamed.
Damian gave her a wry look.
‘Isn’t that traditionally for Sundays? I think you’ve missed a day this week.’
She swatted his shoulder playfully.
‘Well, it’s good to change things up sometimes. Besides, today’s the day you’re coming for dinner, so I figured roast would be nice. It’s been a while since we last had it.’
That was true. It was only here we had the traditional Sunday Roast, and it’d been a while since last time. Damian had been so busy with his studies. His exams were hard. He only had the Board Exam left now, and his third year would be over.
Damian glanced at me, one side of his mouth twitching up a bit.
‘Dinner’s not quite ready. You can wait in the living room. Matilda’s in there, already.’ She hustled into the kitchen, where I could spot Ray chopping something at the counter.
Matilda was sprawled on the smaller sofa, switching through channels. She glanced up as we entered, face breaking into a smile.
‘Hey, you.’
‘Hey, Matilda.’ I sank down on the bigger sofa, and Damian sat down next to me, nodding in greeting to her.
The channel was on some kind of soap opera that I’d seen in my own channel-surfing , but that I didn’t know anything about. Not even the name. Once she turned back to the telly, she started switching again.
‘There’s nothing on. Evenings should be the best time for programmes, but no, it sucks.’
It didn’t seem like she was talking to anyone in particular, so I refrained from answering and instead scooted a bit closer to Damian.
He glanced at me, gaze searching.
I tried for a smile.
Keyword was tried, because I couldn’t quite manage it. Memories and nightmares kept on repeat in my mind and my arm hurt, and I just… Suddenly I just wanted to go home. Not even the smell of the food could keep my spirits up.
But we’d promised we’d be here for dinner, and it wasn’t that often I got to meet up with Cooper—even if he now lived in London as of a couple of months ago—so I did want to meet with him. If only it didn’t involve clubbing.
A timer rang in the kitchen, which meant that dinner would be about ready.
‘I’m going to the toilet before we eat.’ I pushed myself up from the sofa.
Damian didn’t answer, just looked up at me. I managed a small smile this time before brushing past his knees.
‘Would you let Matt know dinner’s ready too?’ Claire stuck her head out of the kitchen as I made my way past the door.
‘Yeah.’ The toilet was on the first floor, and so was Matt’s bedroom. Ray and Claire’s, and Matilda’s as well, for that matter. Damian had shared the basement when he lived here, along with Claire’s sister, Chloe.
I headed down the hall once I’d relieved myself and washed my hands. Loud music could be heard and when I knocked on the door there was no answer.
‘Matt?’ I tried tentatively, then raised my voice, since there was no reaction. ‘Matt?’ Another knock. Still nothing.
Something big and ugly twisted in my stomach. If this had been me at his age, the fact I didn’t answer my door was cause for worry. I’d never noticed anything about Matt, but then I hardly ever spoke to the lad.
I opened the door.
He lay flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The stereo was blaring some kind of rock music that sounded vaguely familiar. What drew my eyes in the few seconds before he noticed me was his exposed wrist and the utility knife tapping lightly against it.
He sat straight upright, the knife falling to be mixed in with the sheets. The sleeve of his arm fell down to cover his skin. I wasn’t sure if it hid scars or not, all I’d seen was the knife and the pale skin. At least I hadn’t seen the kind of wounds and scars that I’d inflicted on myself.
His eyes were wide as he stared at me.
‘Josh?’
‘Dinner’s ready.’ I crossed my own arms in front of my stomach, gripping the opposite wrists.
That’s where it had started for me, shallow cuts that barely bled. And it had escalated from there, too. Just look at my arms now—all skin mutilated by my own hand, by razors I forced down into my skin.
‘I’ll be right there.’ He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Was this how I looked when I was caught doing something I knew I shouldn’t be doing?
‘Matt… If you need to talk—’ I was better at doing the talking than offering to be the one listening. It wasn’t like I was in any sort of position to be giving advice, considering I’d just slipped up, but still… If he was doing what I was sure he was doing, then I knew exactly what it was like.
‘I don’t.’ He leant over to turn off the stereo, which was perched on his desk, right next to the bedside table.
I’d thought so too when I was fifteen. I’d thought no one would believe me, no one would take me seriously, if I spoke up.
‘It helps.’
Matt looked back at me, eyes hard.
‘I’m fine.’ He glanced away, then back at me again, the hardness gone. Now he was wearing a surprisingly vulnerable look. ‘Don’t tell anyone. Please. I’m fine, it’s just… I only do it sometimes. It’s not deep. I’m just curious, really. Please, Josh, don’t tell. Not even Damian.’
I didn’t like it, but I nodded. I didn’t want to invade his privacy by telling someone his intimate secrets. If he got worse… then I’d tell.
But then again, I’d never actually cut to kill—except one time—I’d cut to live. Because if I hadn’t had my cutting, I wouldn’t have survived. Maybe it was like that for him too. Cutting seemed so bad to everyone else, but for us who did cut… it was a life-line. It kept us alive and strong and able to cope.
For ten years I’d lived a nightmare—maybe even longer, but I couldn’t remember so far back—and all I’d had was my cutting. If it hadn’t been for that self-inflicted pain, I wouldn’t have been alive to meet Damian.
I’d done a good job of trying to end my life six years ago, but I’d failed, and everything had turned out so much better after I’d woken up in hospital. Mum had believed me. That was all that mattered.
Until I met Damian, and though he made me feel so good, the cutting was still a part of me. Something I still had to do from time to time to hold on to what I had.
Even after three months harm-free, I went back to it. But if I hadn’t, maybe I would’ve done something worse. And I couldn’t do that. Not to Damian, not to Mum, not to anyone.
I sunk down on the chair next to Damian, smiling faintly at him as he looked at me. Matt came shuffling in after me, sleeves drawn down to his knuckles. I watched him without being too obvious about it—or at least I hoped I managed not to be too obvious.
He’d always been silent and morose. He never said much, never spoke up unless directly spoken to. There wasn’t anything different about him than usual—except now I knew he was doing the same thing I was still struggling with.
How long had he been cutting? Had he just started, or had it been going on for years?
Surely not for as long as I’ve known him, right?
He’d been thirteen when we first met. Then again, he could’ve started that young.
I had. I’d been even younger when I started.
/> But if it helped him, like it had me… as long as he didn’t take it too far, try to kill himself, like I had eventually done. But Matt hadn’t suffered through the hell I had. He didn’t have my issues, my diagnosis. He was a teenager—with all the normal angst that entailed that I’d never experienced for myself, because I’d had worse things to deal with. Maybe it was just a phase.
He’d asked me to keep quiet, so I would. As long as it didn’t seem to go further, anyway. If he became suicidal, then I had to tell. But for now, I’d wait and see. It had helped me, so maybe it was helping him too. Maybe it was what was keeping him alive.
Cooper was already drunk by the time I arrived at the club.
I didn’t know why he’d even invited me out, because he was quite busy. Lip-locked, body-locked, whatever, with some other blond bloke.
This had been my scene once too. Years ago now, though. I hadn’t been out to pull since I met Damian. The thumping music, the smoky club-scene, all the men out to pull… it wasn’t my thing anymore.
I didn’t miss it either. Not really.
The bar was crowded but I managed to squeeze in and order a drink. When it was put in front of me, I sipped tentatively as I glanced over at the corner Cooper was busy in. They were still lip-locked, so he had no idea I was here.
Should I go over there and interrupt?
He’d asked me out, after all.
My neck prickled.
I turned instantly, but I couldn’t see anyone even so much as looking in my general direction. Everyone around me was busy chatting up someone else, or with more intimate things to occupy them. The bartenders were busy mixing drinks. The dance floor was packed with people rutting against each other.
But someone was watching me.
I could feel it. My neck still prickled. Goose bumps ran down my spine, down my arms.
I tipped the glass to my lips, took a big swallow of it.
‘Josh!’ Arms wrapped around my neck. ‘You came!’ Cooper shouted it into my ear so I’d hear him over the music.
