Leaving His Mark

by T A. McKay

  So instead of giving him the third degree I go through to my bedroom and start working my way through my clothes and then my bathroom. I don’t have much undamaged stuff left so it doesn’t take too long, all my clothes and toiletries fit into one suitcase. I zip it up and leave it on the bed out of the way. I look around the room, at the blue paint I have been meaning to change for the past seven months and I realise something, I'm not going to miss this place. Even though it’s been the first apartment that I’ve lived in by myself, the first place that’s been truly mine, it was also lonely. Growing up I had dreams of friendly neighbours and chats in the hall but it was nothing like that here. In this area people rush to get into the safety of their homes as quickly as possible. The community garden is over grown and never used, and I couldn’t name more than two of the people living in the building. We all have our own lives and we never mix. It’s sad really as most of the people on this floor live alone, we could have all been friends.

  I take a deep breath thinking of what could have been but decide that it’s time to move on. I have a new start coming, one where I can maybe save some money while living at Gabe’s, just enough for a deposit for a nicer place. Maybe somewhere with a little garden, where I can sit and enjoy the sun. I continue to pack with a smile on my face and for the first time in a long time I feel hope.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I mute the TV when I hear the front door open. I’ve been lying on the couch under a blanket since I got back from my apartment with Clay. I was tired but didn’t want to sleep so I got comfortable and watched some programme about women having babies. I can’t focus on it but at least the noise is a comfort, helping me feel less alone.

  Now, I sit and look over the back of the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I see Gabe walk in quietly, stopping when he sees me sitting here. He drops his keys on the table before walking over and sitting on the other end of the couch. We sit in silence for a few minutes before he speaks, his voice quiet.

  “I'm sorry.” That’s it. No explanation about where he’s been or what he’s been doing. I know he doesn’t owe me any explanations but I have this need to know.

  “It’s fine, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I want to scream at him, ask him if he has been with another woman but I don’t. I sit quietly and let him take the lead in this conversation. I need to know where his head is, there’s no point in me trying to make something right when I don’t know what went wrong.

  “I actually did a lot wrong, so maybe I should start at the beginning and work my way through my apologies. First of, I’m so fucking sorry for putting my hands on you. There’s no excuse for what I did. None. I can’t believe I did, I always swore I would never lay my hands on a woman, not after everything. I'm so fucking sorry.” I let myself relax a little, the look on his face clearly displaying how sorry he is. He looks sad, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and I want to ease his guilt. I let go of my knees and lean against the back of the couch on my side, still facing Gabe. Everything he says adds another ten questions to the ones I wanted answered. When he said he wouldn’t put his hand on a woman after everything I wanted to ask what that ‘everything’ was. What is he hiding?

  “I'm also sorry I took off. I had plans to take you to your place so you could get everything sorted but I left. I want you to understand that it wasn’t you, it was me.” Wow. Isn’t that the world’s lamest way of telling someone that it was in fact them? Every bad date I’ve had always ended with the guy saying that he didn’t want to see me but it wasn’t my fault, it was his. I let a humourless laugh through my lips and Gabe looks up at me.

  “Yeah, all your fault.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice. I would be better off just getting up and going to bed, there is no way that this conversation is going to end well. Gabe moves closer to me, looking pissed off at my comment.

  “Yeah, it’s all my fault. Don’t give me that shit, Rhys. I'm not being passive aggressive here, it’s my fucking fault, no one else’s. Why can’t I do anything right around you? I want to explain everything but I don’t know how.” My anger ups a level when he gets annoyed at me. He is acting as though I'm being unreasonable, that I'm trying to cause problems.

  “It’s easy, Gabe. You just come out and say it, simple.” I can see his chest rising and falling quickly with his erratic breathing, trying to keep his anger in check. I should walk away, not get involved with anything that would make him angry but I remember his pain, the tears he spilled will forever be imprinted in my memory.

  “Fuck.” With the anger filled word he gets up from the couch and paces the floor. I watch him as he moves, his muscles bulging under his t-shirt, I know I shouldn’t notice but I have a pulse so it’s going to happen. I can’t stop finding him the sexiest thing on two legs, even when he's being an arse of epic proportions my body always reacts to him.

  He looks back at me before walking away, I can’t believe he's leaving again. Part of me wants to follow him and demand that he talks to me. I mean how hard is it to deal with what’s happening? I don’t even know what’s happening, I know we slept together but I'm not pushing for anything else. I’m happy being his friend, I haven’t pressured him for anything more. I know he feels bad about putting his hands on me but he was upset and angry that someone was out there scaring me.

  I jump in my seat when I hear a really loud yell coming from the kitchen. Before I have a chance to go and see what’s wrong I hear the back door close. Gabe walks back into the room with a beer in his hand, looking more relaxed than when he left. He takes his seat again on the couch. He takes a large drink before he starts talking, leaving me sitting in silence as he tries to find the words he needs.

  “I didn’t have the best relationship with my dad, you’ve probably realised that by now. He was a bit heavy handed with me when I didn’t do as I was told, or when I breathed. I refuse to turn into him, I can’t be like him. ” He lets out a small laugh but there is no humour in it at all, it’s more of a sarcastic release of frustration. I should let him speak, let him choose what he's going to tell me but I can’t. I seem to have this inability to not pry into Gabe’s life.

  “How heavy handed would he get?” My voice is quiet and I wish I could take the question back as soon as it leaves my lips. By the pain in his eyes I'm not going to like the answer and I'm close to getting up from the couch and walking away.

  “You know a slap here, a broken arm there and then some internal bleeding. The things all kids should go through.” I swallow hard trying to keep the bile that is rising in my throat down. I don’t know what upsets me the most, the fact that he went through something so horrific at the hands of the man who is meant to love him, or the way that he just says it as if it’s nothing, like he's numb. My hand flies to mouth and tears form in my eyes. Now I know why there’s darkness in his dreams. I wonder if that’s why his dad is in prison? I don’t realise that I’ve asked the question out loud until he answers me.

  “Partly. Child abuse charges were added after he was arrested for murder. I think they were just trying to cover their own arses for not noticing it sooner. I found out later that some teachers had reported that they thought something was happening, that I was turning up to school with bruises and cuts, but nothing was ever done. Not until he killed my mum.” The sob I had been trying to hold in bursts free and I bite my lip to stop more escaping. This isn’t my pain, this is Gabe’s and knowing what he went through breaks my heart and has me wanting to hold him. He continues talking and I just want to cover his mouth, tell him he doesn’t need to tell me more but he seems to want to tell me, now he's started it’s becoming easier for him.

  “That’s the day that haunts my dreams the most. Waking up and finding her lying there, barely breathing and being in too much pain to move. I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” His voice has become strained and he looks at the ceiling while blinking rapidly. He breathes raggedly trying to keep his emotions in check
and I want to reach out to him, tell him it’s okay to cry. He needs to know I'm here to help keep him together but I'm scared that its not my place to be that person for him.

  “How old were you?” I can’t imagine living through that at any age. I don’t know how he didn’t give up on life, let the grief take him completely.

  “Fourteen.” His voice breaks when he speaks and I can’t stay away any more, I need to hold him, to comfort him. I move quicker than I thought possible and sit in his lap, wrapping my arms around him. His arms come around my body, holding me as though I'm his lifeline and I let him. I let him use me for the comfort he needs, I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll be the one to show him he's safe.

  “I'm so sorry you went through that. I can’t even imagine what it was like, but none of that was your fault. I don’t even know what happened but I know it wasn’t you. It was him, all him.” I run my hands through his hair as I talk to him, trying to soothe him with my words. I will never imagine what he had to live through. My life was hard, I lived a waking nightmare every single day I stepped onto school property but I always felt safe at home. It was the place I could go for protection and love, he didn’t even have that.

  I don’t know how long I sit like this holding him and stroking his hair, all I know is my arse is numb but I have no intention of moving. I will sit here for the next three days if he needs me. His crying has settled, he's just holding me, his face buried into my neck. I feel his body relax over time, the ever-present tension in his muscles relaxing. I still have one hand in his hair, unable to stop touching the silky strands. I never thought much about his hair before, never imagined it could be so soft when his body is so hard, I just thought that everything about him would be the same. Stupid thought really if I think about it. With a final deep breath Gabe lifts his head and looks at me. His eyes are red from his tears but they look happier, relieved. I give him a small smile as I wipe under his eyes drying the moisture that’s been left. He closes his eyes and leans into my hand, making my heart melt. I really wish he would let me in, let me be the one he needs.

  “I'm sorry.” His voice is rough giving it a sexy edge and he opens his eyes to look at me. I shake my head at him, This is one thing he won’t apologise for.

  “Don’t ever be sorry for being you. I’m here any time you need to let it all out, it’s not healthy keeping all that pain inside. I would never have imagined that you had lived through that, Gabe. You’re my fucking hero.” He laughs, this time there is a bit of humour in it.

  “I really wouldn’t go that far.” I place my hands on his cheeks and look him straight in the eye, making sure he knows how serious I am. I know he’s trying to play down what he's been through but I’ve never met anyone as strong as him. I went through a lot less than he had and I tried to stop the pain permanently. If I hadn’t been found by my guidance councillor I wouldn’t be here now to hold him. I had taken too many tablets with a bottle of vodka in the girls changing room after school one day. I needed to silence the memories in my head and get rid of the feeling of Marc’s hands once and for all. It was my one-way ticket into a year of therapy that, but even to this day, I can’t get rid of the feeling of Marc against my body. So knowing that Gabe had survived made him my hero, as simple as that.

  “You are my hero. My life wasn’t perfect, nowhere near as bad as yours but I went through a lot in school and I tried to take the easy way out but you didn’t. You fought to be here and that makes you a hero in my books.” His eyes soften more as he listens and I'm hoping that he is hearing what I'm trying to tell him.

  “What happened to you? Tell me about your childhood.” I’m surprised at the question and I want to change the subject. I never let anyone into this part of my life but I know it wouldn’t be fair. He has opened up to me and told me things that are obviously hard for him, now it’s my turn. I need to put on a brave face and share my secrets.

  “I didn’t have many friends in school.” I use my hands to indicate to the blue sections in my hair.

  “I didn’t exactly fit in with the popular girls. I got the usual typical bully bullshit. Pushing and shoving in the halls, rumours and name calling. The girls were pretty bitchy but I coped, I mean who wants to fit in? I coped until the day Marc got a little too friendly in the changing rooms after showering. That was when things got really hard, that’s when I wanted it all to stop. I remember the day I decided it needed to end, I felt so at peace. I was found though and after a short stay at hospital I was moved to a lovely holiday home. Well that’s what my parents called it. I spent almost a year there getting daily therapy.” I can feel Gabe’s hands gripping my hips tighter as I speak and even though I know its wrong, it makes my insides heat.

  “What did he do to you?” I can see the angry look growing on his face even though he's trying to hide it and his body is becoming tense. I hate that I'm getting him upset again.

  “You don’t want to talk about this tonight. I think there has been enough hurt spoken of, how about something happier?” I see his jaw clench as he grinds his teeth. I don’t think that’s the answer he was looking for.

  “I’ll ask again, Rhys. What did he do to you?” I can’t look away from his eyes, the intensity in them making my body buzz. I feel the words slipping from my lips with no thought.

  “He tried to rape me. When he was nearly caught he hurt me and threatened me.” Gabe’s nostrils flare and the clenching in his jaw gets worse, his grip on my hips becoming bruising. I should tell him to stop, to let me go but the feeling of his possession makes me feel safe and gives me the courage to keep talking. Not even through my stay in residential therapy or the years after that I continued to visit someone regularly did I feel this comfortable sharing what had happened.

  “Tried?” I reach my hand out, rubbing through his hair again trying to get him to relax. His anger is doing strange things to my body and I need him to calm down.

  “Yes, tried. A teacher walked in and he ran away.” I feel him relax a little now he knows I wasn’t violated in that way. His protectiveness is something I'm starting to love about him. No, not love. I like … a lot.

  “Then why did you …?” He can’t even say the words and I hope it’s not because he’s disappointed that I tried to take the easiest way out.

  “Try to kill myself? It was hard living with the fear that he was watching me, that he was just waiting for his chance to try again. All the boys on the football team must have known and they started getting involved. Not a day would go past without one of them touching me, brushing up against me or pushing me against a wall. It just got too much to deal with. Even now I can’t deal with anyone touching me or leaning into my body, it makes me freak out.” The anger vanishes and he looks down. I wonder what I’ve said to make him feel awkward.

  “Shit, I'm sorry, Shorty. I have spent the last few days using my body to control yours, you should have told me.” I feel a blush working over my cheeks but I smile. He has no idea how much I enjoyed my time with him, the power he exudes is such a turn on for me, not anything that would ever scare me.

  “Please don’t be sorry for that. I loved every minute that your hands were on me, your body pressing into mine was like every naughty dream I didn’t know I had.” A smile twitches at the side of his mouth and I feel his dick grow under my thigh.

  “Then I won’t be sorry about that. Just so you know, I loved every single minute of it as well. Being with you was better than I’d ever imagined.” His voice is husky by the time he's finished speaking and I grind my arse against his lap without a second thought. His hands grip my hips again and still me, a groan leaving his body.

  “This has been an emotional night and as much as I want to test our friendship again I need to sleep.” He leans forward and kisses my nose. He hesitates a little before he kisses my lips, a slow lazy kiss that literally curls my toes. He grabs my hips and takes me with him as he stands up, placing me on my feet before taking me in his arms. I lean my head against his chest and close
my eyes, just enjoying the feel of him against me.

  “Thank you for everything, Shorty. I left earlier feeling worse that I have in years but now, well now you made me feel important, like my feelings matter. I haven’t felt that since my mum died. So thank you.” I give him one final squeeze before I let him go. As much as I would love for him to pin me to the wall and have his way with me I know he's right. Emotions are high tonight and I can imagine that he has a lot to process in his head, for that he needs to be alone.

  “Good night, Gabe. Sleep well.” I smile before walking down the hall to my room. I don’t look back at Gabe, if I do then I'm not sure I won’t walk back to him and throw him on the couch. So I keep walking, creating distance between myself and temptation.

  ****

  I wake in the morning and it’s so bloody hot. I feel like I’ve fallen asleep on the surface of the sun. I try to throw the duvet off me and let in some fresh air but it only goes so far. When I kick my feet trying to get it off my legs, I feel something around my waist tighten and I'm pulled closer to a hard body. My eyes widen in shock before I recognise the aftershave the hard body is wearing and I relax. I look down at the arm that around my waist and see tattoos littering it and I can’t help but smile. Looks like I was joined during the night by my friend. Gabe snuggles into the back of my neck and inhales deeply, his dick hardening between my arse cheeks. I moan as I feel it prodding me.

  “Go back to sleep, Shorty. I'm not ready to move.” His voice is rough with sleep and it doesn’t help me get my body under control as wetness floods my knickers. I try to distract myself from the big hulk of man that won’t let me move.