Scarred Souls: Second Collection

by TT Kove

  I’d had him check the one on the door leading outside too, but it looked all fine to him. It didn’t jam or only lock halfway or anything. Neither did this one. And it was frustrating because I had trouble with them but no one else seemed to have.

  ‘Maybe you’re not being forceful enough. You got to use a little strength.’ He looked at me, kindly like he always did, without judgement. But then I hadn’t told him exactly why I was afraid of there being something wrong with the locks.

  ‘Maybe.’ But I knew they’d jammed for me several times now. Not just at night when I’d hurried home because I’d been afraid Andrew had been following me, but it’d also jammed when I’d gone out to check the post yesterday.

  The front door, which I knew I had locked after me when I left for my appointment with Vincent, hadn’t been locked when I came back earlier.

  Or maybe I’m just going mental.

  Maybe I hadn’t actually locked it. My memory wasn’t the best. My mind must be playing tricks on me.

  ‘Are you all right, Josh?’ Ray turned so he faced me fully, studying me.

  ‘Yeah. Yes. Fine.’ But I hugged myself tighter. ‘I’m fine.’

  He gave me a small smile that clearly told me he didn’t believe it for a second.

  ‘You know you can always come to us, right? For anything?’

  I nodded.

  Not that I would, but they’d offered before.

  I liked being at their house though. They were nice and such a normal family. Two parents who loved each other. Twins who were like younger mirror images of their parents, who bickered and fought but who ultimately were friends. They were tight-knit. Everything I’d never had.

  Damian was a bit of an outsider with them, but it was obvious they cared about him anyway. They’d welcomed me with open arms, not once questioning it. They were happy for Damian for having found someone he loved. They weren’t the leat bit homophobic or put out by my problems.

  ‘If there isn’t anything else you need, I have to get back to work.’ He studied me intently.

  I should tell him I was fine, that he could go, but what came out instead was, ‘Can you please check them just once more?’

  I glanced at the door. Anxiety coursed through me.

  No matter if my brain was playing tricks on me or not, someone had been outside our window that night… They’d just been standing there, looking at something. I couldn’t be sure it was our flat, but still… I didn’t want whoever—I know who it is—to be able to get in here because the locks were faulty.

  Ray nodded, but I could tell it left him a little exasperated.

  No worries, I exasperate myself.

  I might worry for nothing… but it might also be something.

  ‘Nothing wrong here.’ He locked and unlocked the door several times, trying it in-between. When it was locked, it stayed that way. It wouldn’t open. It didn’t budge. ‘See?’

  I nodded, not sure how I felt about it. I trudged after him out into the hall and he repeated everything with that door too. That one wouldn’t budge when he locked it either.

  ‘Maybe I forgot to lock it,’ I muttered, embarrassed. ‘Maybe I didn’t press hard enough.’

  ‘That is quite likely. You see here now that once I’ve locked it, it can’t be opened.’ He demonstrated again.

  Humiliation seeped in.

  Could I be so wrong?

  Could I really have forgotten to lock it?

  The thing was I didn’t remember. I always locked the doors after me, so it was weird I hadn’t when I went out earlier.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I bowed my head. ‘I’ve wasted your time.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ He clapped my back. ‘It’s sensible to be afraid of this right smack in the middle of the city. There’s a lot of dangerous people out there.’

  Just one I’m worried about.

  If only you knew.

  ‘Don’t hesitate to ring if there’s anything, Josh.’ Now he squeezed my shoulder. ‘It’s better to check things like this one time too many.’

  I managed a weak smile.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’

  ‘It’s no problem.’ He unlocked the door and opened it. ‘See you soon, okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’ As soon as the door closed behind him, I locked it. And checked three times just to make sure I really had. Then I hurried back into the flat and locked that door as well.

  I even drew the curtains, blocking out the sun—and my view of the street. If he was out there, I didn’t want to know. And I didn’t want him to be able to look in on us. On me. Because I was all alone right now.

  He’s not out there.

  That’s what Mum would say. Damian too. But I knew better.

  Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was my disorder. Maybe it was the borderline playing tricks on me. Maybe he had given up on me. Maybe he was out there, without plans for revenge. Maybe he wanted to get on with his life. Maybe he was out there looking for a new kid to use for his own pleasure…

  Those thoughts didn’t make me feel any better.

  ‘Ray said he’d been here to check the locks?’ Damian looked at me funnily. ‘I didn’t know something was wrong with them.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with them.’ I still wasn’t sure I believed that, but they’d worked perfectly when Ray was here, so… ‘It’s me. Can’t even open doors properly.’

  ‘Hey…’ He came over to stand in front of me, hands heavy as he rested them on my shoulders. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s just dangerous if the locks don’t work.’ I swallowed heavily. ‘If Andrew comes…’

  ‘He won’t.’ He squeezed my shoulders now. ‘Angie said they keep a close eye on him. He doesn’t even know where you live.’

  That was the answer I’d been afraid of. No one took me seriously. But I hadn’t actually seen him, so… maybe they were all right. Maybe he wasn’t coming for me. Maybe he was under close watch and couldn’t seek me out.

  Damian bent slightly so he could look me in the eye.

  ‘He doesn’t know where you live. And he can’t just go around to every single flat in London to find you—there’s too many. It would take him years. How can he even know you’re still in London?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘For him to find you at random… that’s not very likely. Millions of people live in this city.’

  That was… true. And slightly comforting.

  ‘If he’s only interested in children, like you’ve said, then you also hold no interest for him anymore. You’re grown up. Twenty-one years old.’ He drew me in close and kissed my forehead. ‘You can fight back now. You’re not a little scared kid anymore.’

  ‘I know.’ But I wasn’t sure I was able to fight back if I met him. He terrified me. What if everything came rushing back and I couldn’t do anything if I was faced with him?

  ‘I’m done on Wednesday, and then I’m off. No more school for three weeks. I’ll never leave your side. He can’t get to you.’

  I wrapped my arms around his torso and held him tight.

  ‘You’d keep me safe?’

  ‘Always.’ He hugged me back just as tight. ‘He’s not getting to you as long as I’m with you. You hear me? I’ll never let him hurt you again.’

  I pulled my head back enough to look up at him. Then I leant in and kissed him.

  He answered the kiss—and when I prodded him gently with my tongue, he parted his lips to let me in. It was soft, warm, and so bloody good.

  There was a low whistle—and first then did it register at the back of my mind that the door had opened.

  We pulled apart. Damian cleared his throat self-consciously and turned his head away, whereas I looked straight at Silver and Kian. They were both grinning.

  ‘I think that’s the first time I’ve seen the two of you kiss,’ Kian said, gaze darting between us. ‘You should do it more often. Make up for all the times you’ve caught us kissing.’

  ‘Or doing more tha
n kissing,’ Silver added humorously.

  I chuckled, glancing back at Damian. His cheeks were faintly red and he refused to look at them.

  ‘I think we’ll leave the PDAs for the two of you,’ I quipped. ‘You do it so well.’

  Kian pffted.

  ‘No, really, you do. You do it so well on the sofa,’ I pointed at the offending furniture, ’in the bathroom, and in the kitchen.’

  ‘Kitchen?’ Damian’s head finally whipped around.

  Silver and Kian had the decency to look abashed at that.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

  ‘You’ve done it in the kitchen?’ For not wanting to know much about Silver and Kian’s sex life, he sure caught on quick. ‘Counter or table?’

  ‘Uhh—’ Silver tried to stifle a smile, but he wasn’t at all successful. ‘Both.’

  For a moment there I was afraid Damian’s eyes would bug out of his head.

  ‘We eat there! We prepare food there—’

  ‘We cleaned up,’ Kian assured him, chuckling. ‘With bleach and everything.’

  It didn’t seem to reassure Damian any.

  ‘Speaking of food, have we got any?’ Silver brushed past us to head into the kitchen. Kian followed him, snickering.

  Damian narrowed his eyes at me.

  ‘Why’d you never tell me this? You caught them doing—that in the kitchen?’

  ‘It’s ages ago.’ I’d never actually planned on sharing that little detail with him. ‘And it wasn’t that messy.’

  The red spread deeper in his cheeks.

  ‘“Wasn’t that messy”? Sex is messy.’

  He was kind of funny when he got in a snit over sex.

  ‘Yeah, well… they cleaned up with bleach.’ I had no issue with it. If Damian ever wanted to do me in the kitchen, I’d be all for it.

  ‘Ugh. I feel like I need a shower.’ He brushed past me and headed towards the bathroom.

  I watched him until he closed the door after him, then went to lean against the doorway.

  ‘You mortified him.’

  ‘You’re the one who blabbed. Thought we had an agreement about that night.’ Kian, who sat at the table, turned to look at me.

  ‘I didn’t think. And now I’ve traumatised my boyfriend.’ I’d caught Silver and Kian doing lots of shit I didn’t tell Damian about. He always got so embarrassed hearing about their sex life—and it was even worse when he was the one to walk in on them.

  Silver, who’d been rummaging in the fridge, looked at me over his shoulder.

  ‘He should’ve expected that one, really. Where haven’t we done it in the past three years?’

  ‘Our room, I hope,’ I quipped.

  Kian nodded at that—thankfully. Damian might’ve resorted to murder if he found out they’d had sex in our bed. He would prefer they kept all such activities to their own bed—and only their bed.

  This little encounter with them had put me in a better mood. Silver and Kian were good at that—they had no disorders that messed up their emotions, no issues or drama between them. They were happy together and that happiness was contagious when I was in their presence.

  It was a little weird though that I, who’d been sexually abused for a decade, could get in a better mood by joking about my flatmates’ sex life. Maybe I was just living vicariously through them.

  They had a pretty adventurous sex life, after all.

  I exited the lift and headed towards Mum’s office. We hadn’t planned lunch, but she never said no whenever I turned up. She wanted to spent as much time with me as possible, besides being at work and with her girlfriend.

  Her secretary wasn’t at the desk—probably out for lunch herself—and the door to the office was half-way open, which it never was if she was in there with someone important.

  So I knocked and entered.

  Mum stood behind her desk, her sharp gaze cutting to me as I stepped inside.

  ‘Hey, Mum, I was—’ A man had been standing with his back to me, facing Mum, but he turned now.

  My stomach plummeted.

  Even after three years it was impossible not to recognise him. It was impossible not to feel the terror of my childhood as I looked into that familiar face, into those cold, calculating grey eyes.

  ‘Hello, Joshua,’ Andrew greeted me casually.

  I stood rooted to the floor, my body frozen in shock and terror.

  ‘Joshua.’ Mum came around her desk, approaching me.

  That propelled me into action.

  I backed away, gaze flicking between them.

  Why was Andrew in her office? They’d been officially divorced since before the trial, so why was he here? Why had she let him in?

  Those eyes.

  No remorse in them. None whatsoever.

  Last time I’d seen him had been in court, when they’d read the verdict. He couldn’t hurt me then, couldn’t get near me, couldn’t touch me. He’d been surrounded by people keeping him in place, and I had stayed as far away from him as I possibly could.

  But now he was here, free from prison and able to go wherever he wanted.

  ‘You are mine, Joshua. Mine and no one else’s.’

  I shook my head as I continued to back off. Mum came closer to me, but I flinched away from her too.

  ‘No.’

  She’d let him in here. She’d been speaking to him. How could she do that to me?

  Once I was out the door, I slammed it shut and only then did I dare turn my back. I never turned my back to Andrew, because he liked to attack me when I was least aware of it.

  I strode back to the lift, my whole body shaking. The scars on my arms felt like they burned and I curled my hands into fists to try and restrain myself from scratching at them. Especially my left arm, which still had the sutures in.

  I was an adult. I was of no interest to him anymore. I’d overcome those horrible years; I lived a happy life with the man I loved. Andrew could not do anything to ruin my life.

  Except he could. The panic and the fear… it was consuming me. The memories from way back then… they were flooding me.

  He shouldn’t be a threat anymore. He liked little boys, little boys who couldn’t defend themselves. I didn’t qualify anymore. He couldn’t hurt me.

  I was haunted. Haunted by the memories, they were flashing in front of my eyes. My mind was a jumbled mess, I couldn’t make sense of it. I was aware of taking the tube, of walking from the station to the flat, but my mind kept reliving my traumatic childhood, not my present.

  Forgetting had never been an option. Everything he’d ever done to me… I remembered it. I didn’t want to, but I did anyway. The memories pushed their way past everything that usually struggled to keep them buried far, far away.

  I wanted to think of my life now, with Damian… Our life together. But I couldn’t muster up any kind of feelings for him because the looming nightmare of Andrew overshadowed everything else.

  My fingers trembled as I made to unlock the door, and I dropped them. I stared down at them, then slowly bent to pick them up. My hands kept trembling, but this time I did manage to unlock the door.

  I stumbled into the kitchen, fumbled for a glass, then turned the tap on and watched as the water sloshed down into the sink.

  How many times during my teenage years had I stood in the shower, letting the water pelt down on my abused skin, washing away all the blood I’d willingly drawn from my own body? Washing away the feel of his hands on me?

  My hands were still trembling so much when I lifted the glass for a sip, that it dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces. I bent to gather the broken shards together, only to gasp in pain as the glass cut my fingers.

  I held my hand up so I could stare at my fingertips, where blood started to gather in small bubbles only to burst and trickle down my skin. I could only stare at the blood. It was nothing compared to the amount of blood I used to spill. My arms could testify to that. A simple prick on the tips of my fingers was nothing compared to the countless deep
scars adorning my arms. Even my scars had scars.

  Letting out a shaky breath, I sat back to lean against the refrigerator. The glass was scattered around me, blood dripped from my hand. I numbly grabbed for one of the bigger pieces of broken glass, locking my fingers around it. The sharp edges dug into my skin painfully and more blood trickled.

  It was wonderful.

  When the pain had dulled, I gathered the glass I could find, scooped it up into my palms and deposited it all in the rubbish. I had some new small cuts on my other hand as well, but it was the right one that was the issue. It was bleeding profusely.

  I pushed myself up on my feet, gaze flicking nervously. I walked out of the kitchen and slipped into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind me and I stood there, taking the space in. I slowly walked over to the sink, where I could wash all the blood off.

  But emotion flooded through me again, hitting me like a tsunami crashing in on land, ruining everything in its wake. It left me staggering, arms wrapping tight around myself.

  I needed to feel something else. I needed this to stop. More blood, more pain, anything to make it stop.

  I opened the cabinet. I didn’t have a razor. If I wanted to cut again, I’d have to go to the kitchen to get a knife. But the simple thought of walking anywhere, even that short a walk, left me feeling drained.

  My medicine, and various over-the-counter drugs, took up half a shelf. I snagged it all, then sank to the floor. I needed something to calm myself with. I’d taken my pills today, but I needed more. I needed them all.

  I took out a full tray, then slowly pressed the tablets out and onto the floor, one after another. I took a tray from the other brand too, squeezing every pill out.

  I can’t take it. I can’t take him.

  I’d done this before. Now I was doing it again. I couldn’t help myself. I needed to stop feeling. I couldn’t take being like this anymore. It was too much.

  I’d stood face to face with Andrew Graham—and he hadn’t been fazed at all. He’d ruined my life and he didn’t care. I wasn’t worth so much as a single piece of regret from him. If he got hold of me, he’d kill me. I’d rather do it myself. It was easier, quicker, without pain.

  Because if he got to me, there’d be more pain than he’d ever inflicted on me before. I knew it. I’d seen it in his eyes. The way he didn’t care what he’d done—but he very much cared what I had done. I’d put him in prison. I’d ruined his life.