“No.”
One word. One word said with the force of a woman refusing to give up her humanity. That was all I could do. I would not sacrifice one person to satisfy my father’s God complex. I would not sacrifice myself.
Phillip crouched in front of me, with one hand curled so tightly around my face I felt my jaw begin to break.
“You will make a choice, Skye.”
“No,” I snarled. “I won't.”
I reared up, pulling my face out of his hold; I ignored the burning pain as my hands met his chest and I shoved him away. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he fell back into the chair behind him, but as I lunged forward to grab the gun, his fist hit my face and I fell back to the floor.
He mounted me, sitting on my legs to stop me fighting back. One hand rested on my throat as he leaned into me with the gun to my head.
I scratched and clawed – his face, his hands, his chest, but I couldn’t breathe.
My eyes fluttered closed as my head grew light.
I’d failed…
Iridescence.
My eyes shot open and I glanced sideways at Curtis. I heard the ticking of the clock. I heard the beeps of a heart monitor bringing life back from the abyss.
The time had come.
I had to fight for my survival.
I had to fight for Curtis’ revival.
It was time to thrive.
“Iridescence,” I muttered, choking on a strangled inhale. Phillip laughed, absent with his cause. “Iridescence.”
My arms fell to the floor, my hand reaching for Curtis. Phillip didn’t notice, too lost in his psychotic break and murdering another one of his children.
Animals kill their young every day, but what if one refuses to die?
My fingers brushed Curtis’ knee and he twitched. I wiggled my fingers, praying, pleading silently; continuing to hope when all hope was lost.
I closed my eyes again.
Something cold settled in the palm of my hand.
I squeezed it tightly, twisted my wrist and plunged Phillip’s knife into his side.
He roared and screamed, dropping his hands to the floor to brace himself above me. I pulled the blade out and drove it back in, the warmth of his blood gushing over my hand and bare legs.
I kept hold of the handle, ready to twist the knife if he attacked again, but he was frozen above me, his eyes locked on mine as the golden shade dimmed to a burnt, rusting copper.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I can save them. I can't save you.”
I shoved him off me. He fell to the floor face down, his head turned in my direction.
He watched me, still triumphant that he had won as the life ran out of him.
Curtis reached me and pulled me into him. I’d gotten through to him. I’d broken Phillip’s spell and pulled Curtis out of one darkness, into another.
“I’m just like him,” I said, trying to pull away from him. “I broke the brainwashing. I’m just like him.”
Curtis held me still, refusing to let me go; I began to rock in his arms, muttering something even I couldn’t understand. Still he held me, and I heard his voice in the distance, calling for help.
“I love you,” he whispered, joining me in the shadows. “You saved us.”
I closed my eyes and succumbed to the darkness, listening to the three words leave Curtis’s lips as they helped me envision infinity.
Epilogue
“It should have been me,” I whispered and raised my eyes to look at the man opposite me, then at the clock on the wall behind him. Three minutes. I had to endure this for just three more minutes and I could escape, take my seat in reception and wait. “It should have been me.”
I said the same thing every week, and although I knew what question would come next, I still didn’t think I could talk about it. Maybe next week… I said that to myself every week.
“Why do you think it should have been you, Curtis?”
“It’s my burden to bear. I should have the pain and guilt. I should be the one suffering. I’m a failure.”
I bowed my head and waited for the scripted words of comfort from a textbook; words from someone who would never understand what was in my mind.
“Why do you feel like a failure?”
“I don’t feel like a failure…I am a failure.”
“Why?” the doctor asked. “Talk to me about it, Curtis.”
Could I? How could I ever trust someone with my mind again? Someone who knew the human mind and was trained to alter the way it worked? I’d been there before. I couldn’t trust anyone…but I wanted to talk today. Why? I don’t know.
I tried to fight the words coming out, but I shifted on the soft leather sofa and decided to let go.
“How did I not know?” I asked. “How did I not know I was a puppet? How could I keep her safe – how did I ever believe I could, when I had no idea what was in my head? I still don’t. I don’t know what’s mine and what’s…his.”
“You’re safe now. You both are.”
“Are we? What if I hurt her?”
“Do you want to hurt her, Curtis?”
I shook my head and released and long breath. “I thought I did, but I don’t. I don’t want her to feel an ounce of pain because of me. But I will hurt her, I know I will, because I’m so scared of her leaving.”
“Why would she leave? Especially after everything you’ve been through?”
“Because of everything we’ve been through. She’ll figure out I’m not worth it.”
I dragged my hand through my hair as the discomfort moved in. I hated talking. I would have gladly smashed the expensive hand-painted vases that lined the doctor’s cabinet. I would have gladly put my fist through his window. But talking? Talking made me want to vomit, and I scanned the room for something to throw up in.
“Why do you think you’re not worth it, Curtis?”
“Why are you asking so many questions? Aren’t you supposed to fix my brain?”
Proof I was still fucked up, right there.
“There’s nothing wrong with your brain.” He laughed and sat back, locking his tablet and tossing it aside. “I’m not here to do that. I’m here to help you process and come to terms with what you’ve been through. My job is to encourage you to think for yourself, not to think for you.”
“Will you?” I asked, the desperation at breaking point. “Will you tell me how this looks to someone on the outside?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “The tablet will stay there, locked. Anything you say is between you and me. Paint me a picture and I’ll tell you what I see. Okay?” I glanced at the clock. My time was up. “Don’t worry about that. You’ve still got fifteen minutes.”
“Ten.”
He knew why I wanted to get out. I had to be there, waiting.
“It should be over, but it isn’t.”
Had things magically disappeared and allowed us to fly away on a rainbow-coloured unicorn to an island of marshmallow and chocolate streams? No.
“I’ve said goodbye to everything I ever knew. I can't go home. I can't see Lois. I can't fight.” I squeezed my hands together and took a deep breath.
“It shouldn’t have been up to Skye to fight for us. I should have saved us. How can I move on? How can we move on together, knowing what she had to do for us? It should have been me. She needs someone to protect her, not someone she needs to sacrifice herself for because they’ve lost their mind.” I sighed and waited. The doctor waited. “I’m done.”
He smiled and took a sip of water. He couldn’t have done that while I was talking?
“The future isn’t decided, Curtis, so I can't promise you everything will be okay. But your pride is a bigger barrier than your mind right now. You’re safe. You saved each other. Relationships are about give and take. By giving everything to Skye and taking nothing she offers in return, it unbalances your relationship.”
“I know.”
“Do you think that by taking control away from Skye, by stopp
ing her from protecting you the way you protect her, you put you both in danger?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you love her?”
“More than the air I breathe.”
“Then believe it’s enough.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s enough, Curtis. We will work on helping you deal with what’s happened, but you have to let Skye in. You’ve been through so much, are you ready to give up now?”
I shook my head rapidly. “No.”
“Then allow yourself to begin to let go.” He looked at his watch. “Go and wait for her. Tell her you love her, hold her at night and know that you can get through this together.”
He stood up. I took a second to process what he said, let it sink in, and then I stood up and shook his hand.
“Thank you.”
“See you next week.”
~Curtis~
August, 2014
Dr Hassan’s light brown eyes gleamed with encouragement as her thin lips turned up into a smile. The small stud in her nose sparkled under the light and drew my attention to her face as she sipped from her cup of mint tea.
We’d usually sit like this, in the corner of her office, twelve floors above the city of London. Sometimes I talked, sometimes I didn’t, but Dr Hassan never pressured me; she sat patiently waiting with whatever flavour of tea she’d chosen, often with a traditional Indian dessert on the table, made by her grandmother from Lucknow.
Phillip lost his life with Tiffany that night in the derelict house in Kent, and everything had come to light. We’d made national news: Woman Saves Family from Psychotic Father with Intent to Kill. I hadn’t had to face murder or manslaughter charges on the grounds that I acted in self-defence, with reasonable force in accordance with common law defence. Did it ease the guilt? No. Did it mean I wasn’t a murderer? No.
Grandpa suffered from psychosis; he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia in his early twenties, and an accompanying diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder when he left the army. During my hearing, we heard that Grandpa suffered a psychotic break and, as a result, turned to manipulation and never stopped. Phillip was diagnosed with bipolar and antisocial personality disorders when he was a child – probably as a direct result of living with Grandpa – and the rest was history. There are things we would never fully understand, but we had to take what closure we could and begin to move on.
Lois and my mother had been admitted to hospital and were receiving extensive psychotherapy to release them from Phillip’s prison. I had saved my animal, calling him from the abyss by changing the angle of light, bringing him into my bubble and offering him unconditional sanctuary. He’d be safe in my heart, forever protected from abandonment, rejection and manipulation, because I would love and cherish him for as long as I lived and beyond.
But I couldn’t save Lois and Pamela. I couldn’t find a place where they were safe from harm. I could only hope that by getting them the best psychological help available, I could redeem myself, wash away the sins of leaving them defenceless, and bring them home free from the constant reminder of the pain they’d been forced to suffer. I had to hope that, in the end, we could all thrive in this new life, free from the clutches of Phillip Jones.
We had survived.
We had been to the pits of despair and been revived.
We had a clear space ahead of us – a place, like the park where I mourned my brother’s death as a lonely teenager – that would offer us freedom and perspective as we embarked on our new journey, full of hope for a better future.
“Has he found infinity?” I asked Dr Hassan. “My father? Did he feel love? Has he taken it with him?”
“Do you believe in infinity, Skye?” she asked, typing notes on her iPad.
I thought about my animal and looked at the sparkling diamond on my finger, paired with the ring Thomas gave me. If I couldn’t believe in infinity, what could I believe in? I had to believe that there was a reason for everything we’d been through. I had to believe in infinity, because if I didn’t? My mind would have travelled the same path as my father’s.
“Yes,” I answered honestly. “Yes, I do.” I stood up from the sofa and placed my tea on the table between us. “See you next week.”
I left the madness on the table with my teacup and went in search of my infinity.
I swung open the door of Dr Hassan’s office and stepped out into reception.
The sight of the man waiting for me stopped my heart and then restarted it. It was like seeing him for the first time all over again every time I finished a session, walked out of the office leaving a little more of the obstructing insanity behind, and saw Curtis waiting for me.
Dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off the ink that made my heart flutter and beat double-time, Curtis stood and opened his arms. As I approached him, his eyes sparkled with adoration, and the love for me that emanated from him welcomed me home when I stepped into his embrace. I tiptoed to bury my face in his neck as he caged me in, and inhaled his scent. Curtis Mason craved acceptance, evoked a desire so strong my blood ignited and my heart beat in time with his; he called to every ounce of my being, claiming me and offering me himself in return. I took it as I kissed his neck, feeling his pulse spike and hearing his sharp gasp when he breathed me in. With everything I had, everything I was and wanted to be, I loved him and, finally, he allowed himself to accept the love he deserved and I so willingly gave him.
I pulled away and he took my hand, his thumb stroking the back of it as we headed downstairs and out of the building. He swung his arm around my shoulders and tucked me into his side as we approached the car.
Curtis opened the door for me; as I slid into the car, he rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his phone, frowning when he looked at the screen.
“Who is it?” I asked, noticing the tension move in.
“I thought it was over,” he answered, bending over to rest his head on the top of the doorframe.
“Charlie.”
I knew it was her; confusion tainted Curtis’ face – confusion and conflict. What I wanted more than anything was for Charlie’s mere existence to be erased, and I wanted it to take Curtis’ memories of what he’d done with her as well. But I wasn’t sure Curtis wanted it.
Happy ever afters didn’t happen at the snap of our fingers. We hadn’t changed overnight; we hadn’t become worry-free. It wasn’t in the stars for us. We’d endured so much pain, we’d suffered so much loss and betrayal; we’d been caught up in a twisted tangle of lies and secrets. That wasn’t just going to go away, no matter how much we wanted it to. Curtis’ fragile mind told him to be a part of Charlie’s fucked up web of manipulation and control. Phil had taught him to do that; to be susceptible to being controlled – to take what he wanted; to ignore the guilt and the voice in his head that told him he did have a choice. His first thought was to go to Charlie, because she had a hold on him. Just like Phil had.
“Do you want to see her?” I asked. Curtis just groaned, neither a yes or no. “Do you?”
He stood up and closed my door, before walking around the back of the car and sliding into his seat.
“Yes,” he finally answered, a hint of shame lacing his deep voice. “But I won't. I need to deal with this…no more Charlie.”
I nodded and pulled my seatbelt on.
“Hey.” He leaned over and tipped my head to face him. “It’s not her I want. It’s you. Only you. Always you. She’s just been a part of me for so long.” He kissed my forehead and took a deep breath. “Phil took everything from me and I don’t know who I really am. I need to figure that out, and I need to figure it out with you by my side.”
“I’m never leaving your side.” I unclipped my seatbelt again and leaned forward so he edged back. I took his face in my hands. “But I know who you are.”
“You do?” He cocked a curious brow.
“Yes.” I nodded. “You’re the missing piece of my puzzle, you’re my da
rk knight in chipped armour. You’re my broken, lost little boy and you’re my haunted prince. You’re my animal. You’re my everything.” I pressed my lips to his and tried to show him everything words could never explain. “You’re my infinity.”
“I’m all of those things?”
A smirk ghosted the corner of his mouth and it set my heart fluttering again. I loved it when he was playful.
“Oh yeah.” I nodded. “All those things and more.”
“Tell me more.”
I folded my arms and looked out of my window. “Later. In bed. But you have to earn it.”
His voice, tight with sudden arousal replied, “How will I do that?”
“You’ll see.” I smiled in excitement, the anticipation making me shift in my seat. I tried to hide it, but I knew Curtis could feel how hot I was for him.
“Oh, I’ll earn it,” he said, turning on the engine and shifting the car into gear. “I’ll exceed your expectations, Skillet.”
“You always do, Cut Throat.”
Our smiles collided when I turned to face him as he checked the mirror and edged out of the space.
***
The sun shone down on us as we got out of the car. It was a warm day, the trees were a luscious green, giving themselves to the birds that sat in them and sang their summer song. The sweet smell of flowers in the flowerbed lining the path surrounded us as we held on to each other and tried to keep our emotions under control.
The drive from the house I once shared with Thomas – the place Curtis and I now called home – had been quick, filled with the overwhelming sadness and grief.
We had to say goodbye to Kent as part of our respective, and shared, treatments, but we were encouraged to come here once a week, to visit the place that would always trigger our memories of the past, and to face the demons so we could begin to overcome them together.
Curtis set the chequered blanket on the ground and sat down; I replaced last week’s flowers with the ones I’d picked from the garden this morning and sat next to him.
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