Anything for Him

by L. K. Chapman

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said, ‘that really hurts.’

  Instead of answering, Jay reached out towards her bare arm, pinching a little fold of skin between his nails until the pain made her eyes fill with tears.

  ‘Stop it!’ she said, ‘Jay, stop it.’

  She pushed him away from her and stared in horror at the spots of blood rising from his nail marks on her arm.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she said, ‘I’m bleeding!’

  She got out of bed and started walking towards the little en suite bathroom in the corner of her room.

  ‘I’m bored of you,’ he said.

  She turned round. ‘Stop it, Jay,’ she said, ‘I don’t know why you’re trying to hurt me—’

  ‘It’s because I don’t like you,’ he said, ‘and I don’t like the way you look. I thought you were pretty, when we first started going out, but when I look at you now I don’t know how I could have thought that.’

  Sammie went inside her little bathroom, slammed the door shut, and locked it. The bloody mark on her arm still hurt and her heart was beginning to race with anger and shock.

  She heard Jay’s footsteps and when he knocked on the door she ignored him.

  ‘Sammie,’ he said, ‘come on. Let me in.’

  ‘Leave me alone. You said you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, either. Not when you’re being like this.’

  Jay knocked on the door a little longer, until she got sick of it and turned the lock to let him in.

  ‘I’m not going to sit and listen to you being nasty to me,’ Sammie said.

  ‘I was only saying,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, but… I’m just fed up of looking at you.’

  ‘Why are you being like this?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  Instead of answering, he took hold of her by her head, and deliberately whacked it into the tiled wall. She gasped in pain, and started crying, but Jay just walked away, and when she came out of the bathroom again she found that he’d gone.

  22

  When her parents got home from work later that evening, Sammie wanted to say something. The injuries Jay had done to her weren’t visible – the place he’d hit her head was underneath her hair, and the place he’d pinched her was completely hidden under a winter jumper, so they’d never guess what had happened. All through dinner, she felt like she wanted to say it, but in the stony silence around the dining table, she couldn’t find a way.

  She waited until later, when her mum was filling the dishwasher, and her dad had gone to do more work stuff in the study upstairs. But the words still wouldn’t come, so she just hovered around in the kitchen with her secret simmering away inside her.

  ‘We thought we’d keep things pretty simple at Christmas this year,’ her mum said as she finished putting the last few plates in the dishwasher. ‘Just get something nice and simple to cook, have a relaxing day.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sammie said. She knew what this meant. Her mum had said something similar every year since Alfie died. It meant she’d buy a few bits and bobs of readymade food from the supermarket, drink too much wine, and pretend to be enjoying herself when she actually kept disappearing upstairs to have a little cry. Sammie didn’t particularly care about Christmas. She hated it now. It had been fun when Alfie had been alive, even though he was ill they still enjoyed themselves – making it almost over-the-top special. Now he was dead, nobody wanted to make anything special anymore. If Sammie suggested doing anything – playing a game, watching a film, going for a walk, her parents would looked pained and mumble some excuse, until Sammie learned it was better not to ask.

  ‘I just…’ her mum said, ‘I just can’t be bothered with it all, you know? All the… fuss.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sammie said, ‘that’s okay.’

  Sammie watched her mum pop a dishwasher tablet into the machine and close it up. It was difficult to know where to start. Before she could even get to the issue she’d have to explain that Jay was her boyfriend, and that seemed hard enough.

  ‘Mum… I… could I talk to you?’ she said.

  Her mum turned round. ‘Can it wait?’ she said, ‘I feel like I haven’t stopped since six o’clock this morning. I just want to sit down.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sammie said, ‘I just—’

  Her mum must have realised it was something fairly serious because her face softened a little.

  ‘What is it, Sammie?’ she said.

  ‘It’s just… I… you know Jay?’

  Her mum looked at her for a moment and then smiled. ‘Is he your boyfriend?’ she asked.

  Sammie blinked. ‘Um… yeah,’ she said, ‘he—’

  ‘I thought he was,’ her mum said, ‘I have noticed how much time you spend with him.’

  Sammie tried to smile and her mum looked at her carefully. ‘Have you had an argument with him or something?’

  With relief, Sammie nodded. Her mum seemed to get it so far, perhaps it wouldn’t be impossible to tell her the rest.

  ‘Sammie, life is too short to worry about arguing with boys,’ her mum said, ‘there’ll be plenty of time for that when you’re older.’

  ‘I… really like him, mum,’ Sammie said, with difficultly.

  Her mum frowned. ‘Sammie, he doesn’t come round here when we’re at work, does he?’

  ‘No,’ Sammie lied.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Her mum narrowed her eyes and Sammie knew she didn’t believe a word of it. She also knew that the question wasn’t really – does he come round here? It was – are you having sex? But there was no chance her mum was going to come straight out and ask her that. But then her mum’s next question surprised, and offended her.

  ‘Oh my God,’ her mum said, ‘you’re not pregnant are you, Sammie?’

  Sammie stared at her. How could she possibly have thought she could open up to her mum about her relationship, about Jay hurting her, about any of it, when she just came out and accused her of things like that?

  ‘Of course I’m not!’ she shouted, ‘I’m not stupid!’

  Furiously, she ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door so hard the sound reverberated all round the house. She heard her mum’s feet on the stairs after her, but instead of coming into her bedroom she heard her parent’s voices in the study. They talked for maybe five minutes, and then the door to her room opened and her dad came in.

  ‘Sammie,’ he said, ‘what’s this about you bringing boys back here when we’re out?’

  ‘I don’t,’ Sammie said, ‘I told mum—’

  He strode towards her and Sammie edged back on the bed where she’d been sitting to get further away from him. Her dad was frightening when he got angry.

  ‘You are fifteen,’ he said, ‘if I find out you’ve been bringing that boy here—’

  ‘He’s not “that boy,”’ Sammie said. ‘His name is Jay.’

  For a moment her dad’s face was almost white with anger, and then all of a sudden it was like a light went off. Instead of arguing with her, he just seemed to decide that he actually didn’t care anymore, and he turned and walked away.

  Her parents argued that night, in their bedroom next door to hers. They were trying to do it quietly, and she couldn’t make out the words, but she could hear their hushed, angry voices. Sammie didn’t feel at all guilty about having Jay round, or going round to his. What they did was just a natural thing to do, no matter what her parents said or did they could never stop her having sex with him and Sammie thought it was wrong of them to even bother trying. But that wasn’t the main issue. The main issue was that they’d been so angry with her. How could she talk to them about what was happening to her if they were angry? She couldn’t say what Jay had done to her if he was never supposed to have been in the house, and even if she did, what would happen? They’d be so shocked. They’d be horrified. Sammie didn’t want to watch them being shocked, and she certainly didn’t want to risk them finding out about anything els
e, like the photos Jay had of her. But before she fell asleep, she did think, with a twisted kind of joy, that if Jay ever beat her up so badly she was in hospital, or even better if he killed her, that maybe everyone would think how bad her parents were to not have realised, and they’d feel guilty, and they’d wish they hadn’t treated her like this.

  Around midnight, her phone vibrated and she saw she had a text from Jay:

  Im really sorry about earlier i hope ur ok. Id had a argument with my mum n i was feelin pissed off but shldnt hav taken it out on u. I love u

  Sammie replied instantly, almost without thinking.

  Its ok. My parents are arseholes as well. I love u 2.

  Felicity

  23

  As time went on I carried on seeing Mark and working on my jewellery business, and before long I’d built up quite a good jewellery collection consisting of several different necklaces, earrings and bracelets, some of which were more expensive one-offs, some simpler designs that I could make relatively quickly and easily, and a few customisable items where people could specify names or initials they wanted incorporated into the pieces. Mark created a wonderful photo gallery of my work on the website he made for me, and we started thinking about other sites I could sell my jewellery through, and how I could try to promote myself. I thought of a name for my business – Steel Rose, and although Jay made no secret of the fact he found my new enterprise ridiculous, he tolerated it as he could see it was a good way for me to carry on spending time with Mark. In fact, for a while I found myself in a routine where I was able to manage my relationships with Mark and with Jay fairly well. Mark came back to the flat a few times when Jay was out, but we largely met at his and Mark didn’t seem to notice or care that he never met my mysterious flatmate. And although it took a little while, Jay was delighted when Mark and I started sleeping together, which he thought would mean Mark would soon tell me he loved me so that he could finish his plan, but this didn’t prove to be the case. In fact, although Mark seemed to enjoy spending time with me I was surprised how disinterested he was in sex, seeming to find far more passion for my fledgling jewellery business than for spending time in bed with me.

  Inevitably, this fact became apparent to Jay, and instead of being pleased with me about how much work I put into his plan, he began to make barbed comments to me, hinting that he thought I enjoyed spending time with Mark and that I wanted the whole thing to drag on, and suggesting that I wasn’t trying hard enough. It was usually easy enough to nip these sorts of arguments in the bud by reminding him how lucky he was that I was prepared to involve myself in his crazy revenge plan at all. I thought that that was the end of it and he’d be reasonable, but I could hardly have been more wrong.

  It was the night of Grace’s hen party that everything changed. Jay told me he didn’t want me to go, and didn’t hold back at throwing every manner of insult and accusation at me – telling me how disgusting he thought my dress was, how selfish I was to go out when I hardly spent any time with him as it was, and how disloyal it was to go out with my friends when they were so vocal in their dislike of him. In all honesty, my relationship with Leanne and the others was hardly good. I’d barely spoken to any of them since Leanne came to the flat, and I was pretty sure she had been at work turning all the others against me – at least for as long as I stayed with Jay. He made one final attempt to stop me going out when I wandered into the living room to say goodbye to him before I left and he looked me up and down.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re really going to wear that,’ he said as he took in my minidress and heels.

  ‘The dress code is slutty dresses,’ I explained. ‘I’m not the biggest fan of it either, but it’s what Grace wants.’

  ‘Mm,’ Jay said, ‘well, I’m about to cook us dinner.’

  I stared at him. ‘Jay, I’m going out. You know I’m going out.’

  ‘It’s risotto,’ he said, ‘your favourite.’

  I shook my head. ‘Jay, stop it. I’m not going to let you make me feel guilty about this.’

  He slammed the pan he’d just got out of the cupboard down on the hob so hard that it made me jump. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘go out then. And wear that dress if it’s so important to you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said sarcastically, ‘I will.’

  Jay turned to me. ‘Good,’ he said, ‘I hope you get raped.’

  …

  The party ended up much as I expected. I was already fuming about what Jay had said to me, and on top of that Leanne was decidedly cool with me, and although Becky, Hannah and Grace tried to act normally, they didn’t keep it up for long and the consensus to ignore me spread to the rest of Grace’s friends. I ended up following them around listlessly, getting progressively so drunk that far from caring I began to find the whole thing almost amusing.

  I stumbled home to Jay in the early hours of the morning, where I went into the living room thinking I would drink some water and try to find something to eat, and to my surprise found Jay sitting on the sofa in the semi-darkness, watching me as I staggered my way into the room.

  ‘Look at the state of you,’ he said as I kicked my shoes off and shuffled to the kitchen, clutching at the walls.

  ‘Fuck off, Jay,’ I slurred back at him, fairly good-naturedly.

  I got to the kitchen, filled a glass with water and drank it all in one go.

  ‘Did you have a good time?’ Jay asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I lied. The shock of drinking all the cold water made me gasp and my stomach felt confused.

  I stood, swaying, for a while, wondering what the chances were that I would throw up. Deciding I was safe, I opened the fridge and started poking through Jay’s packs of lean meat, fish and vegetables hoping for something more palatable.

  ‘You want me to make you something?’ Jay asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, surprised by his generosity, ‘please.’

  Jay came in and took some eggs out of the fridge, followed by a frying pan from the cupboard and a bottle of vegetable oil. I felt as though something wasn’t quite right, but I stood happily enough, watching him blearily as he turned on the hob.

  ‘Thank you, Jay,’ I said.

  He turned to me and smiled, then he grabbed my hair, and the next thing I knew he was pushing my face down towards the gas burner on the hob. I screamed my lungs out so he put his hand over my mouth and lifted me up a little so as not to burn himself. ‘Shut up,’ he said, ‘just shut up.’

  He let go of my mouth and carried on holding me there while I whimpered and started to cry. One of my tears dropped onto the flames and hissed, almost making me scream again.

  ‘Calm down,’ Jay said. ‘I’m not going to burn you. Just tell me you’re sorry.’

  Another tear dropped onto the flame, and I started to shake all over. ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry.’ I could feel the heat on my cheek. I was so scared I couldn’t even think.

  ‘Say what you’re sorry for,’ he said. ‘Tell me you’re sorry for upsetting me. That you’re sorry for going out when I told you not to, and that you’re sorry you’re doing such a crap job with Mark.’

  I couldn’t gather my thoughts. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out were more whimpering noises.

  ‘He should love you by now,’ Jay said, giving me a shake, ‘but he doesn’t, does he? And it’s not difficult to see why, looking at you right now. You’re a piece of shit.’

  Some more of my tears hissed in the flames and I started to make a low moaning sound, which began to turn into the words, ‘please, please.’

  ‘Tell me you’re sorry!’ Jay said again.

  ‘I… I… I’m sorry,’ I said.

  He shook me. ‘You’ve already said that!’ he yelled. ‘Tell me what for. Tell me what you’re sorry for.’

  ‘I can’t…’ I said, ‘I can’t remember what you said.’

  With sudden force I was pulled away from the hob and I thought it was over, but instead Jay turned the kitchen tap on full blast and pushed my face into i
t until I was gasping and struggling for air.

  For a moment I thought maybe he was trying to cool my face because it had been burned, but then he forced me back down over the burner, the water dripping and hissing so that I started sobbing in terror.

  ‘Has that sobered you up?’ he asked, ‘tell me what you’re sorry for.’

  I wracked my mind. What had he said? My voice trembled as I started the list. ‘For going out,’ I said, ‘and upsetting you… and not doing well enough with Mark.’

  Jay turned the hob off and let go of me, and I sank to my knees on the floor.

  ‘Do you do everything he wants?’ he asked me.

  I nodded.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jay asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think so.’ I was crying again and I couldn’t concentrate. Jay knelt down in front of me.

  ‘You must be doing something wrong,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not,’ I said, ‘I promise.’ I couldn’t deal with his questions. I was trembling and sobbing and my stomach was churning. My words stumbled over each other and I ended up digging myself a deeper hole. ‘I do everything he wants,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t want very much. He’s not… he’s not like you.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Not…’ I said, panicking, ‘I just mean…not everything with him is about sex. We just talk, and hang out, and… have fun.’

  I covered my face with my hands. My stomach felt really uncomfortable now, and the light in the kitchen was hurting my eyes.

  ‘And we don’t have fun?’ Jay asked. ‘You mean you have more fun with him than you do with me?’

  I couldn’t answer. I cried into my fingers until Jay pulled them away from my face. He started trying to get his hands under my arms to lift me up, but just as he did my stomach gave in to its churning and gurgling and I threw up, projecting a thick, sweetish smelling stream of liquid that he recoiled from in horror. I bent forward and was sick again and again, while Jay tried to stay out of the way. When it was all gone I slumped back against the cupboard and saw Jay watching me, his face rigid with anger, and I realised that my first stream of vomit had gone all over him.