by B C Morgan
He holds his thumb and finger apart, before he throws his arms out and declares, “this much.”
This is ridiculous, I can’t believe he went and got wasted. Aren’t we in a bad enough state as it is? Without him being useless, what happens if someone decided to set this house alight, how am I supposed to be able to get him out?
“Relax Hen hen, its s’kay. Relaaaax,” he leans over so far that he falls off the sofa, with a massive crash.
He is laughing so hard, clearly, he’s fine. I go into the kitchen to get him a glass of water but when I come back out he’s snoring loudly and still in the same position he landed in. Rolling my eyes I go back upstairs and decide to read the letter my dad had given me on my birthday, I’ll tackle the secret one another day. When I’m not so bruised and shaken.
Pipsqueak, okay I know letters are real old school these days but I thought there’d be less chance of me losing this one. We don’t know what will happen when we grow up, you could be a right little brat and we may not talk. No, I don’t believe that will happen but just in case I’m writing this while I still love you. (I’m laughing as I write this, as if a day would ever come where I don’t love you).
I want you to know that I am so proud of you little sister and no matter what happens from now until the day you open this letter, that will never change. You better be eighteen Pipsqueak, if you’re reading this now, I will kick your arse. You know I can still fit you in our kitchen bin, don’t test me.
I need a minute before I can continue, this is so Elliot and I cannot hold back the laugh that wants to fall free. I remember him putting me into a bin once, he said he would and I made the mistake of saying “ you wouldn’t dare,” I learnt to never dare Elliott anything that day, unless I wanted to see it happen.
BY NOW YOU’VE probably realised I’m not the hero you always pictured and I’m not this noble guy who never does anything wrong. The other reason I’m writing this, maybe if you hate me in your time, you won’t hate the version that you remember back when you were a little dot and you had nothing but love in your heart for me.
I’ve done some stupid things Hennie and I’m worried that one day they’ll come back and bite me in the arse, but I can’t stop. I’m do it for me and you, it will always be that way. But now that you’re eighteen and you’ve probably had a boyfriend or two yourself maybe even a girlfriend. Really do not want to be picturing this while seven year old you is running around in your dungarees, I hope you never have a boyfriend but I’m realistic. It will happen and I can’t stop that, but to get back to my point I think you’re ready now. I do hope you already know and I’m not this chicken shit who is waiting for you to open this letter on your birthday to discover my secret, the one thing only my brothers know.
But if I am chicken shit then I’m sorry it’s taken this long, Henleigh I’m Gay. I hope this doesn’t change your opinion on me and I don’t think it will, you live in a world of colour and you belong in the light. Don’t ever change my little sister and know that whatever happens you will always have me and I will always love you.
Happy eighteenth Henleigh, this year belongs to you.
MY FACE IS wet and my eyelashes cling to my cheeks as I keep my eyes shut tight, I’m not sad, not entirely. I am proud of him for being himself, even if he did keep it quiet, but I was young and I may not have understood it back then. I am wondering if any of the others were his lover but that’s just making my cheeks heat, I can’t picture it. And I do not want to either, I have a much too vivid imagination for that.
I think the reason my cheeks are wet is because I needed this, a reminder of the brother I knew. To know the version I remember isn’t a fable from a naive child. He really was like that and even if I am the only one who still sees him in that light, then it will be enough for me.
THE SOUND of groaning reaches me from the living room, may as well be a herd of elephants with the amount of noise he’s making. I shuffle into my slippers before making my way downstairs, it’s only been a couple of hours since he came back and I doubt he’s recovered just yet.
“Alright tough guy,” I say as I drop to my knees beside him.
“Why the floor?” He groans as he drags his hand down his face, his hair is mussed and there’s hundreds of lines zigzagging through the whites of his eyes.
“Let’s get you up,” I slip my arms around his back as I bend at the knees, how am I supposed to lift him?
I feel like a china doll compared to him, and he’s not exactly helping me much.
“Help me or stay on the floor,” I say severely and although he’s half arsing it, we somehow get him upright.
“Come on you big lug,” I say tiredly as I wrap his arm over my shoulders and I place mine around his back.
Climbing stairs has never felt so laborious before and I’m surprised he hasn’t tumbled over the banister yet.
His footsteps echo across the wooden floor of the landing as I lead him to my room, he can sleep in here tonight. It’s the closest room and I don’t think I can support his weight much longer. My arms are starting to tremble and sweat is beading on my brow as I get him to my bed and he falls backwards, star fishing it.
I start working on the button on his jeans as he lets out a throaty moan, I pause for a second watching him until he quietens down. My cheeks are probably brighter than a tomato right now.
I get the button unclasped and start pulling his jeans free, I wonder if this is what it’s like trying to put clothes on a lion or something. I can’t imagine it would've been much harder, why can’t he help me?
“If you wanted to take my clothes off, you only had to say,” he says as his laughter takes over again and I roll my eyes while my lips are pursed, summing up my feelings on his joke perfectly.
I free him and I’m done, my good deed is well and truly accomplished. Although maybe I should get him onto his side, just to make sure he’ll be okay.
I grab onto his shoulder and start tugging him, but he comes easier than I expected and I nearly crash into the wall. His sudden grip on my arm is the only thing stopping it from happening.
Our eyes meet, his are clouded over undoubtedly with his inebriation but he isn’t letting go. He pulls and I fall down next to him, closer than I expected with only mere inches between us.
“Henleigh,” he breathes, but his breath is so strong I’m worried I may get drunk through osmosis.
“Get some sleep tough guy, you’ll feel better in the morning,” I say as I brush away the hair that is clinging to his forehead.
“No, I won’t,” he grumbles before moaning and I can feel it vibrating through his chest.
“And why’s that?” I ask softly, I’m not taking much stock in his words considering the state he’s in.
“It’s all pretend,” it’s slurring out, but it may as well be a riddle with no known answer.
“Okay tough guy, I’m sure it’ll stop being pretend soon,” I say hesitantly as I sit back up, but he pulls me back down.
“Stay,” it’s all he says as he burrows his head into my neck and his arms become a prison.
His breath stirs across my skin as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep, it’s all pretend. I wonder what he means.
I wake up and feel as though the roof must have caved in with as much weight Harrison is putting on me. I slap him on the back and he just moans and snuggles his head in closer.
“Tough guy, can’t breathe,” I say, and he slowly lifts his eyes to look at me.
He smiles for a split second before his eyes open wide and he bolts up and away from me. He’s pulling at his hair and I can see strands of it clinging to his fingers as he groans and calls himself an idiot.
“You’re fine, you got wasted and I brought you up here. Don’t worry, you didn’t say or do anything embarrassing,” it’s supposed to be reassuring but I do not think it’s working.
“What did I say?” his tone is harsh, but he keeps placing his hand over his mouth and clutching his stomach.
&
nbsp; “You poor thing, let me get you some paracetamol,” I say sweetly while patting him on the back.
It’s like there’s an angry dog in my room with the noise he’s making at me. “Woman, tell me,” he says but his eyes are apprehensive, there’s something he’s hoping he didn’t say, and I really want to know what that is.
It takes him ten minutes to make it down the stairs and I have a glass of water, some painkillers and some toast waiting for him. Guess I can be nice.
“Thanks,” he grumbles as he throws it back before playing with the toast.
“What happened to you last night?” I’m making myself a cuppa, I wonder if he’ll tell me.
“You told me to fuck off so that’s what I did,” I risk a glance at him and he reminds me of a tightly wound spring, just waiting to snap. His brows are raised high and his jaw is clenched. Yep, he’s going to snap at some point.
He inhales roughly before slamming his fist down on the table, making the plate rattle and the water slosh over the edge of the glass. What else can I do but fold my arms across my chest and stare at him.
“I went down the road you made sure to avoid when we got here, I half expected to see the tyre marks on the ground but they were gone,” he laughs mirthlessly but I can see the way his eyes shimmer. “It was too much so I went to a pub and kept on drinking, until I could forget why I was so angry. And then I wake up with you in my arms, how fucking ironic,” he picks up the plate and throws it across the room and all I can think is how I’m happy it all shattered in the same area. How else should I feel? He didn’t want me to leave him last night and today I make him throw things. All I need is for a tornado to hit and rip the house away and everything would be perfect.
“Are you going to tell me what I said last night or not?” He asks, his tone not easing at all.
“You said it’s all pretend, that’s it. Are you happy now?” I ask as I pick up his glass and at least mine shatters in the sink.
TEN
THERE ARE people in this world who do the same thing repeatedly and expect a different result, it’s the definition of insanity after all. Now I’m not insane and I will keep telling myself this as I log into my emails and check to see if I have heard back from Roxie. No one has found us yet, and I need to know if we’re safe, maybe it had been very bad luck on our part that they kept finding us or maybe it was the SIM card and IP address.
Baby girl
GET MOVING
That’s all it says, and it was dated today. Fuck she knows something and she wouldn’t lead me wrong.
“Harrison, we have to go,” my voice is so high pitched it could be considered shrill, but fear is taking over.
“What, why?” He asks more surprised than anything else until he sees the screen.
“You can yell at me later, right now we have to go,” I grab hold of his arm and the duffel bag I never unpacked. He grabs his and we’re out of here, it may be paranoia making me choose the back door but I don’t care.
I take in the garden one last time, the only thing I liked about the house was this: it looks different now.
The strong oak tree that shaded me from the scorching heat and gave me a place to read in peace now looks gnarly and withered. It used to be formidable but it’s different now. It’s like the sky, it’s greying over, and the clouds look as though they’ll never break and let the light back in.
I try to shake it off as we go through the gate and take the back alleyways until we make it to the car, changing the licence plates costs us five minutes but it won’t make a lot of difference they’ll either find us or they won’t. Harrison isn’t keen on my detour but I need Tommy to fall and this is the only way I know how to do it. It’s not like they’ll cut his life short, right?
“What is going on Henleigh?” Harrison’s voice is tight as he glances over at me.
I keep my eyes on the road, it’s a great excuse not to look his way even though my periphery is betraying me.
“Seriously, what was that all about?” He leans forward so I can’t avoid his face, my eyes glimpse his way for a second and they catch on his.
“Fuck it you’re already angry with me anyway,” I say with a self deprecating laugh and a breath releases from between my parted lips. “Tommy Beckly, the one who put me behind the wheel that night and told me I better keep on driving,” my eyes flashing like lightning during a thunderstorm. “Not an excuse, but I’m owning what I did. He never will, so he can own something else.” My tone is hard and unyielding, no matter what happens I can’t change what I did and for the first time I’ve done something that I will not regret.
No matter how bad it may turn out.
WE DRIVE until our town in Norwich is nothing but a blip in our mirrors: drive until we hit a place called Kings Lynn, never been here before and we’re not exactly here for a tour either.
“Check your emails,” he says it so forcefully that I have to pull over, just so I can look at him.
“What are you talking about? That was sent before I opened it. They couldn’t have tracked me that easily or quickly,” I say, is there doubt in my voice, I can’t be sure.
“She knew something was coming, we need to know what and how. Face to face would be better but if someone is tracking you through this, then after today we have to shut it down,” I can’t argue with him, I know he’s right but what if there’s another way. What if I could get help?
We pull into a car park and pay for a ticket that will cover us for up to four hours, that should be enough time. We don’t know the area at all, but H is smarter than me and hasn’t messaged anyone since changing his number. Therefore, it is awarding us with a level of safety, we just don’t know how high that level is or how long it will remain for.
We sit down in one of the coffee shops, this town is a coffee lovers wet dream. We grab a table and sign into the free WiFi on one of the shop’s computers, is this wrong?
“I’ll get ya a drink, you log in,” he says, did he join the military or something, why is he being so damn bossy?
I load up my Gmail account and there are at least three from Roxie, one just confirms my suspicions. She asked Declan about my suspicion and it turns out that they were installed within my home, from his father’s company. Apparently, they were signed off by my brother, is the sky growing darker or is that just me.
Every room, bar the bathroom, had a camera fitted, his father doesn’t sign off on every purchase but when he recognised my name from school it seemed to stay in his mind. I feel so violated. Those cameras were there the entire time I was, all those times I got changed in my room, it's nauseating.
The second email is the one that told me to leave, I need to find out what she knows but how can I ask without giving the game away? Maybe Dante is tracking my IP address, but what if he’s monitoring the emails themselves.
Baby girl
I’m sorry for the last message, I must have freaked you out for no reason. You know me I’m such a Drama Queen. No, she isn’t. Anyway, I miss you and I hope the guys haven’t been too hard on you. Enjoy your trip and stay away for as long as you want, I’ll keep an eye on your house for you once I get back. I’m finally getting to go, can you believe it, see you soon.
Love ya Baby girl.
CLEARLY, I am missing the big picture here, where is she going? She isn’t saying a lot but maybe that’s all I need, someone else is reading them but how does she know that? Too many questions and no one to shed a little light onto them for me.
“I’ve been thinking,” I jump like a cat that’s just been electrocuted as he drops the tray down in front of me. I never even heard him and he’s looking at me as though I was doing something illegal. “You okay?” He asks, raising his brows as he looks me in the eye.
“Yeah, you just surprised me is all,” I say weakly as I pick up my coffee and take a deep mouthful of the best thing created since sliced bread.
“Okay,” he draws the word out as he takes his seat. “As I was saying, I’ve been thinking abou
t that Dante guy and I’ve realised that I kind of understand him.”
“What the fuck,” I shout at him, and people are staring at me as though I’m just another teenage delinquent.
“Not like that, jeez woman what do you take me for,” now he looks disgruntled but how did he expect me to react? “What I mean is, he’s going to a lot of effort to destroy you. He told you he’s going to kill you, but he hasn’t exactly tried yet. Don’t think that’s because he doesn’t have the means or lack of opportunity, I think he wants you to suffer. The same way I did,” he shifts in his seat and looks down as he picks up his mug and takes a long swig of it.
“You didn’t want to kill me though,” I point out, as I pick up the lemon curd muffin he thoughtfully got for me.
“Yeah, because I’m not a psychopath,” he scoffs in return while rolling his eyes, I think I’m rubbing off on him.
I turn the computer so it’s facing him so he can read the email for himself and his eyebrows draw together as he reads it again and again, guess he can’t decipher it either.
“Well, you know her,” he says offhandedly while pouring way too much sugar into his mug. “Did she ever mention a place she wanted to go to, maybe this is her way of giving us a place to head off to,” he says and it's so brilliant I could kiss him. If it wasn’t Harrison of course.
“She mentioned a couple of places, I just need to figure out which one it is. There was a place she wanted to go as a band but I think that’s been pushed to the side now, seeing as I refused to join permanently, Maybe it’s…” I’m cut off as Harrison places his finger against my lips, my eyes widen in return and I bite down on the pad of his finger. Am I imagining the fire that is burning in his eyes or the fact that he isn’t pulling away, I guess I should then.
I clear my throat as I pull back slightly and lick my lips, is it getting hotter or is that just me.
“I think…” he trails off as he stares at me and I stare right back, what is happening right now? His eyes flick to the side and he grows pale as his eyes widen, I follow his gaze and there it is. A motorbike with two people atop it, staring right at us from the road, we see their heads nod as they speed away.