Scarred Souls: Second Collection

by TT Kove

  Damian was standing still at my side, staring at what was going on. All stone-faced. He and Mum could join a club with that, win a bloody championship.

  Speaking of Mum, she was to the side of me. She stood behind Matilda and Matt.

  Chloe was at their other side with her boyfriend. When I’d first met her, she’d had a girlfriend. I’d thought she was gay, but such had not been the case after all.

  Maybe this was me, black-and-white thinking again. There was either straight or gay, no bi in-between.

  Ridiculous.

  My thinking pattern, that was.

  I was ridiculous.

  Claire stood at Damian’s other side with a handkerchief pressed to her face. Her thin shoulders shook.

  Mum reached out to squeeze my arm. I tried for a smile but didn’t manage it. When her hand fell away I slowly turned back around. I stepped closer to Damian, slipping my hand around his, squeezing.

  He squeezed back, but his full focus was on the grave in front of us.

  Matilda was crying at my side, big sunglasses unable to hide the torrent of tears.

  Matt… still no emotion.

  Chloe was also crying, leaning against the boyfriend.

  Everyone grieved in their own way.

  There were friends of Ray and Claire here—they had a lot of them, though none I’d ever met.

  My family were here; all the way from Bristol to come see me in hospital. They’d all met Ray, they all knew how important he and Damian were to me. They were here for support.

  Grandma stood at Mum’s side.

  Harriet stood on the other, also there for support. Even though she was my mum’s girlfriend, she was mostly there for Damian. He’d worked for her for so many years—they were as close as Damian could ever get to anyone who wasn’t me or Silver.

  He and Kian were here too.

  It crawled on. I didn’t hear what anyone was saying, it was like I’d checked out completely. Except this wasn’t what my dissociative episodes were like at all—because I still saw and took notice, it was just it all seemed to have been put on mute.

  We were back at the house once it was over.

  Claire was now the one who was stone-faced.

  Chloe was crying on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

  Matilda sat miserable at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug filled with tea.

  Damian was sitting opposite her, also stone-faced.

  Matt had disappeared to his room. He hadn’t brought the dog this time though, because she currently weaved around my legs.

  And me?

  I moved on auto-pilot. Or stumbled around on auto-pilot.

  I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to be alone. I needed to calm down, I needed peace.

  Once I filled Storm’s bowl with kibble, I headed down to the basement. No one stopped me. No one spoke to me. No one so much as looked at me.

  The mattress bounded as I dropped down on it.

  It was soft. Not quite familiar, but it felt good nonetheless. I lay across it, cheek against the duvet I’d been using, feet hanging off the edge. I stared at the wall. It was light, smooth, calming. No disruptions or glaring colours or patterns. All soothing.

  I needed that. I needed something with nothing to focus on. I needed to check out for a bit.

  There was blood everywhere.

  The tub, the toilet, the sink, the floor—all dotted red.

  I lay on my back on the floor, the fluffy rug a nice place to rest on. I stared at the ceiling, but didn’t actually see it. The pain in my arms held me grounded, held me firmly in place inside myself.

  As long as I felt the pain, I couldn’t flit away. I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t give up, I couldn’t die. I was still alive—as long as I felt the pain. I wanted to be alive, I really did, but it was hard. Living was so bloody hard.

  A startled gasp could be heard, but it hardly registered. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pain. I focused on that. What else could I do? It kept me alive.

  ‘Josh?’

  Why was someone calling me? Didn’t they realise I was fighting a battle here? A battle I couldn’t lose. I had to win it. They had to let me fight it.

  Someone slapped my face.

  ‘Josh?’

  ‘I’m ringing for an ambulance. He’s lost a lot of blood, mate.’

  I didn’t know what the answer was to that. Did Damian think Silver was right? Had I lost that much blood?

  My face was slapped again.

  ‘Don’t—’

  ‘Josh, come on.’

  I couldn’t come on. It didn’t work like that. He didn’t know what it was like to relive my life in my dreams every night. To wake up in a cold sweat, terrified that my life up till now had been the dream and that when I did wake up, it would be Andrew next to me instead of Damian.

  ‘They’re on their way, D.’

  Another slap to the face.

  ‘Stop!’

  ‘Come on, Josh, stay with me.’

  I didn’t want to stay anywhere. Well, okay, I wanted to stay with him, of course I did, but everything hurt. Not just the outside, but the inside. So much I couldn’t breathe.

  I wanted that to stop. That on the inside.

  But it didn’t. It never did. I was stuck with it.

  Forever.

  The bed dipped and I blinked myself into the here and now. I turned over on my other side to find Damian’s back sitting in front of me.

  He sighed.

  I put my hand on the small of his back, hoping it would be of some comfort to him.

  ‘Claire doesn’t want to keep the house.’ His voice was low, not quite a whisper, but not far from it. ‘She says she can’t afford it on her own, but I mean—he had life insurance. It shouldn’t be that much of a problem. I think…’ He swallowed heavily. ‘I think she just doesn’t want to live with the memories.’ He propped his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. ‘She wants to sell. And I can’t buy it. I don’t have the money for that.’

  ‘Why would you want to?’ I asked carefully, not quite following.

  ‘Because this is where I grew up. This is where I’ve lived since I was twelve and my mother had her psychotic break and killed everyone.’ He muttered it all into his hands. ‘This has always been safe. Nothing bad has happened to me here. Or—not until now anyway.’

  I pushed myself up so I sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I could quit school, get a loan, maybe… except I won’t get a job that pays well enough to get a bloody loan.’

  ‘No, Damian. No.’ He wanted to become a surgeon—he’d always known that. I wasn’t going to let him quit now, when he was three years in, just started his fourth, and still so sure of his path. ‘Being a surgeon is your dream. It’s what you’ve wanted for so long.’

  He started shaking his head before I finished talking.

  ‘It’s not. I don’t want to be a surgeon. I don’t want to be a bloody doctor. I don’t want to.’ He drew in a shaky breath.

  What?

  Where was this coming from?

  ‘You don’t mean that.’ He’d never expressed any doubt about his education to me before.

  ‘I do!’ He turned his head abruptly to stare at me, eyes red. ‘I hate it. The rotations, dealing with people day in and day out. I’m good at one thing only and that’s the books. The theoretical part. I’m brilliant at that. But everything else—I’m not.’

  He buried his face in his hands again.

  ‘We’ve got rotations on Child and Family Health, and Women’s and Men’s Health, and—just, I don’t bloody want to watch a vagina squeeze out a kid. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to do any of it. The only thing this year I’m looking forward to is a rotation in adult psychiatry, and that’s just because maybe that can be of help to you.’

  This was a lot to take in.

  ‘But once you get through this, you can start doing what you want to do,’ I pointed out.

  ‘
No, I won’t. If I manage to finish this year—with me being gone for almost an entire week—I still have a year left. And then there’s two years of foundation training where you’re at the bottom. You have to do all the shit jobs. First when you’re done with that can you start specialising—and that will take years.’

  ‘Yeah, but—’

  ‘I don’t want to study medicine, I don’t want to be a doctor, I don’t want to be a surgeon.’ He was shaking his head now. ‘I made a mistake. It’s not for me.’

  I hooked my arms around his shoulder and clung tight.

  ‘Then quit.’ I wasn’t going to talk him into continuing if he didn’t want to. If it made him miserable… ‘You’re young. You can start over with something else.’

  ‘But I don’t know what.’

  Now he sounded like me.

  I didn’t know what to do with my life either. Maybe I’d influenced him somehow—but no.

  This isn’t about me.

  Not everything’s about me.

  I need to remember that.

  ‘You’ll figure it out.’ I moved my head so my chin rested on his shoulder. ‘We’ll figure it out. I’ll help you.’

  He didn’t say anything, just sniffled.

  ‘How long have you held this inside?’ He must’ve kept it to himself for a while, since he sounded so sure. So sure he didn’t want to continue.

  ‘Too long,’ he admitted in a low voice. ‘I told your mum last time you were in hospital.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because you weren’t awake, Josh.’ That came out harshly—but he patted my forearm with one hand so I managed not to take his tone too close to heart. ‘And when you woke up… You had enough on your mind. I didn’t want to put this on you.’

  It made sense. I didn’t like it… but it was what it was. I wasn’t good at dealing with lots of different things, after all.

  ‘So, anyway… Claire doesn’t want to stay here. I can’t afford the house, and even if I could, what would we do with a big house like this?’

  Something cold slithered down my back.

  Of course I’d have to live here too if he did. But I didn’t want to stay here either. I didn’t want to even be near the house if I had a choice. Not after Andrew had been here, after he’d hurt me here, sullied the place I’d always felt so good coming to.

  Just the thought of staying here any longer brought more chills down my spine.

  Back when I was fifteen and Andrew was arrested, Mum had moved us out of the house we’d lived in my entire life and into a flat by the time I was out of hospital.

  I’d never been more grateful for anything in my life. Going back to the house I only had terrible memories of… I couldn’t have taken that in the fragile state I’d been in then.

  Claire, Matilda and Matt had good memories from this house though. Except not anymore.

  Especially not Matt, who’d been the one who found me.

  What must it have been like for him? What must he have thought and felt?

  ‘Would it be so bad if she sold the house though?’ I tried hesitantly.

  Should I be truthful? I’d been living by that rule ever since I told Mum about Andrew.

  ‘I don’t want to stay here either. I’ve got good memories, sure, but the last ones are not, and I just… I don’t want to stay.’

  He turned around slowly, gaze meeting mine, searching.

  ‘They’ve got a lot more good memories from here than you do. Matilda and Matthew grew up here. So did I.’ He turned away, sighing. His hands clasped together. ‘But it’s not the same anymore. Not without Ray. They had no plan for what they’d do if—if either of them—’ He couldn’t finish the sentence, but I got it. ‘Who thinks of something like this ever happening? You don’t go around making plans for what happens if your husband dies—’ He stopped himself, took a deep breath. ‘How were any of us supposed to be ready for this?’

  ‘You weren’t.’ I sat up and leant in close, resting against him. ‘No one can ever be prepared for something like this.’ I’d been expecting it—not Ray dying, not ever that, but I’d been expecting Andrew—and I wasn’t even prepared for it.

  Not even after ten years of abuse. Never prepared, never ready to deal with it, never ready to fight it.

  ‘I didn’t fight back,’ I whispered. ‘He overpowered me easily. I’m terrified of him. I’m not a kid anymore, but I am terrified. I didn’t fight back.’

  His arm slid around me, pulling me in tighter.

  ‘Fear does that. It makes you freeze.’

  ‘It’s pathetic. I’m twenty-one years old… I haven’t got a lot going for me, but I should be able to fight back.’

  ‘He tormented you for a decade. As far back as you can remember, he’s been hurting you. Of course you’re terrified of him. He used a little, defenceless kid. What you felt then… it’s not going to go away in a blink of an eye.’ He squeezed me tight, cheek resting against the top of my head. ‘He’s never coming near you again. He’s going away for a long time now, and when he does get out—if he decides to settle here in London again, then we’ll move.’

  My heart started beating faster.

  ‘Yeah?’ It was years ahead. I might be doing better then, whenever it happened, but that he put the possibility out there… it meant a lot.

  ‘Yeah. We’ll move as far away as we can get.’

  My nose rubbed against the side of his neck.

  ‘I love you so much.’

  ‘You too.’ Silence, then he drew a deep breath. ‘I never got to tell Ray how much he means to me. How much I appreciated all he’s done for me. I don’t think I ever, not even once, told him I love him.’

  He wasn’t big with words, Damian. Not to anyone but me. I’d always required him speaking his feelings. Reassurance. Neediness, was what it was.

  ‘He knew.’ Ray wasn’t—hadn’t been—like me, doubting everything once there were no reassurance to be had. ‘Parent, or parental figures, they just know things like that. Trust me, Damian, he knew.’

  We hugged for a long time, no words spoken, just the two of us breathing in sync.

  ‘Do you think they’ll be all right?’ he asked eventually.

  I thought about it seriously. ‘I hope so. Claire… it’s hard to say. Matilda will be, I’m sure. Matt… I don’t know.’

  Matt.

  I wished it had been anyone but him who’d found me. Who’d come home to find the scene of the crash, to see the place his dad had died.

  No wonder he was locked up in his room, usually with his dog. No wonder he didn’t eat, didn’t cry, didn’t speak. He must be in shock.

  ‘I think maybe therapy would be good for him.’ It had helped me, in any case, and Matt might be more like me than anyone realised.

  He gave a brief nod.

  ‘Yeah. If he’s willing. It’s not like forcing him into it would make anything better though.’

  That was true.

  I had been willing. Mum had gotten me into therapy right away—after I got out of hospital. There, therapy had been part of the deal, anyway. She had made sure, however, that I would continue once I was out.

  I’d been lucky. I’d met Vincent. I hadn’t stopped going to therapy since. Not one-on-one with Vincent anyway. I’d dropped out of group therapy after Mal killed himself.

  ‘I hope he’s willing.’ I really did.

  Matt did need help—and I couldn’t give it to him, no matter how much I knew what it was like to be traumatised. How much I knew cutting helped, though the scars it left would never go away. That they would be a symbol of shame, yet also a symbol of what I’d lived through.

  I hoped Matt wouldn’t inflict the kind of harm on himself that I’d done. I hoped whatever he’d dealt with before, coupled with recent events, wouldn’t leave him as broken as I was.

  I didn’t want anyone to experience the way I was.

  39

  Scarred Ones

  Josh

  The kitchen table
was decked out for all of us. And all of us were there, except I just—I couldn’t.

  ‘No.’ That table. The corner of it, my head, blood. I’d been in a coma for four days because Andrew had hit my head against it.

  ‘Josh.’ Damian’s arm clamped tight around my shoulders. ‘It’s okay.’

  The doorbell rang shrilly.

  Everyone seemed to stop, to freeze for a second as the surprise washed over us. Matilda got up to answer the door, once it was clear no one else was moving anytime soon.

  My gaze was already back on the table. On the corner. The corner that had left a hole in my head.

  ‘Josh.’ Matilda came back. ‘It’s your mum.’

  I glanced over at her briefly, but the table drew my attention like a magnet. It was impossible to resist.

  ‘You need to come with me, Joshua.’

  Damian’s arm tightened a bit more around my shoulders.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  That’s what I wonder too.

  Except my voice didn’t work.

  ‘To the police station.’

  ‘No!’ I jerked out of Damian’s half-hug. ‘No, I can’t face him. Never again! No!’ I shook my head wildly.

  Mum glanced towards the table.

  ‘You’re not going to, Joshua. You’re not. You just have to tell the police what happened. It’ll help.’

  Tell the police?

  He killed Ray.

  He nearly killed you.

  Coma for four days…

  My stomach sunk heavily.

  ‘He has to go to court again, hasn’t he?’

  I could see Claire tense up at the table. Matt had sunk so far down his chair it was a wonder he hadn’t slid down on the floor. Only Chloe and Matilda were paying rapt attention to Mum.

  She nodded.

  ‘Yes. He committed a new crime. If—when—found guilty, the new sentence will be added to the old one.’

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see any of them. I didn’t want them to see me.

  ‘Joshua, please. Come on. Don’t make this harder on everyone.’

  I opened my eyes again to see Mum gazing at Claire. Claire was now the one with her eyes closed.

  ‘Okay.’ I didn’t want to argue, not here in front of all of them.