by TT Kove
Four years of violation. It was nothing to my ten, but it was still four years too many. At least Andrew wasn’t related to me by blood. He was just my stepfather. She’d been violated by her own dad, the man whose genes she shared.
‘Does Grandma know?’
She looked back at me, eyes a dark green.
‘No. And she never will. Promise me you’ll never tell her, Joshua. You’re the only one I’ve ever told. Not even Abbi—my own sister—knows what a bastard of a father we had. Knowing this would destroy Mum and she doesn’t deserve that.’
‘I won’t tell.’ I understood her, because I hadn’t wanted anyone to know about my circumstances either. But once I’d woken up and had been told I would be fine, that I would have no damage from the pills and that I would be able to go back home… I’d lost it. I couldn’t go back home when he would be there.
And Mum had been there. She’d listened, with tears trickling, and now I finally got to hear her story.
She turned to me again.
‘It saddens me that I’ve shut you out so completely you didn’t feel like you could ever come to me with this. I never had time—I didn’t care enough—to get to know you properly, so I never even imagined anything was wrong. I’m so sorry, Joshua.’ The tears were overflowing now, trickling slowly down her cheeks.
‘It’s okay. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.’
I was so ashamed and humiliated. Used as my own stepfather’s blow-up doll and punching bag for ten years, and then failing at committing suicide when I’d finally had enough. When I couldn’t take it anymore.
34
Guilty as Charged
Josh
The witness box loomed in front of me.
I had to go up there, I had to tell them everything. Every single little thing he’d ever done to me—or what I could remember of it, anyway.
My journals weren’t enough. I had to stand up there, in front of everyone, and tell my story.
Like the journals didn’t tell enough.
Why did they have to hear me say it? They’d taken all the journals in as evidence… Why couldn’t that be enough?
He was sitting there. Behind glass, yes, but fully visible.
I had to face him. Again. I hadn’t faced him since that day in my hospital room, when he’d been arrested. Now here I was, about to give evidence. And he was right there.
His eyes were on me.
Mine were on the witness box. Where I had to walk to. Where I had to stand. Where I had to not gloss over it like I’d done to Mum in my hospital room, but to go into every single detail I could remember.
And I had to do it in front of all these strangers.
Worst of all… I had to do it in front of him.
‘How are you finding the locks around here, Josh?’
Ray strode into the kitchen, his tone teasing as he glanced over at me.
I flushed, embarrassed.
‘They seem to work just fine.’ I couldn’t believe I’d freaked out so much about two locks weeks ago as to text him while he was at work—and had him come over to check them out.
‘Good.’ He clapped me on the back, good-naturedly. He headed over to the refrigerator where he poured himself a glass of milk, then sat down across from me on the table. ‘What are you up to?’
‘I’m trying to write. A book,’ I clarified, before he could ask.
My laptop was open in front of me, and there were black letters all over the white documents. Words had always come easy to me, I was good at writing. It was the only thing I was good at, as a matter of fact.
I’d written my journal for a decade, and now short stories and novellas… and it was nice. Sort of… therapy, but without actually having to voice my thoughts to another person.
‘Oh yeah?’ His eyebrows rose in interest. ‘What do you write about?’
I shrugged awkwardly, embarrassed for a whole other reason now.
‘Stuff. Romance.’ It was supposed to be a love story, sort of based on Damian and I. I didn’t want it to be entirely autobiographical, but it seemed to turn out that way anyway. I hadn’t wanted anyone borderline in the book at all, but that had happened anyway.
That’s the character based on me, then.
The main character, the character from whose point of view the entire story was told.
‘Romance novels, huh? Didn’t know you liked those.’ He wriggled his eyebrows now. ‘Claire does. You’ll have to let her read it when you’re done.’
I managed a small smile, but it was tinged with self-consciousness.
‘Maybe. Right now I’m not sure I even like it myself. Maybe I won’t finish it.’ I wanted to though. It was like I needed to get the words down.
It was almost like when I wrote in my journals. I had to do it. I hadn’t written in my current journal for a while, thought I always had it with me whenever I went, just in case.
I’d switched from journaling my own thoughts to writing fiction… and I had a blog online. A blog where I wrote about my disorder and my past—and it had a small following of people who had the same diagnosis or who had experienced the same I had, or people who had both. Like me.
It was nice. Nice to know I wasn’t alone, but it was sad too that so many had experienced so much trauma.
While the blogging helped too, it was the fiction that felt the most like therapy. It was fiction based on real life because my demons would never leave me and I had to channel them somewhere.
But it was where I could decide what happened, where I decided the ending.
I had all the power and it was great.
‘Maybe you’ll be a published author one day, huh?’ Ray said, emptying his glass. ‘That would be nice for you, wouldn’t it? Work your own hours, and from home, too.’
He had a point there. I didn’t think I ever could get a proper job. Not one that involved other people, or stress, or… anything really. I couldn’t deal with life, all the ups and downs it brought. I could hardly deal with my own head.
‘Yeah, it would be,’ I agreed quietly, but my mind whirled.
Tyler had mentioned that too, over a month ago now.
Maybe they were onto something.
I wasn’t exactly getting any better, and I was living on disability. Because my BPD was so extensive and so all-consuming I couldn’t live a normal life. I was disabled. But I needed to do something with myself.
I couldn’t walk around at home all day, everyday, for the rest of my life.
Writing was an outlet. It let me get my thoughts and feelings out, down on paper—or the screen anyway. Journaling had helped me through my childhood. Clearly it was something that was good for me.
‘If you ever do finish it, maybe you’ll let me read it too.’ Ray’s voice broke me out of my thoughts.
I smiled, albeit weakly.
Letting anyone read something I’d written left me all kinds of nervous. Maybe my fiction wasn’t any good.
And my journals… they’d all been evidence during the trial. People had read them and quotes from them and they’d been damning for Andrew’s sentence.
I’d been ashamed that so many people had read all that and maybe that was bleeding out now.
But that they even wanted to read it was nice to know.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
Ray chuckled.
‘Or not, if it makes you uncomfortable. Has Damian read anything you’ve written?’
I shook my head.
‘No.’ He wasn’t interested in romance. And that was basically what the stories were. If I ever wrote mystery or action he might be interested, but romantic fiction with explicit sex… no. He’d never read that.
‘I’ve got to start dinner.’ Ray pushed away from the table and stood. ‘I promised Claire I would today. She had to stay an hour longer at work.’
‘Can I help?’ I asked, tired of looking at the screen.
‘You can peel the potatoes.’
I shut my laptop, feeling som
ewhat relieved I didn’t have to sit there and worry about how to start the next chapter. It also felt good that I could help, even something as trivial as peeling potatoes for dinner.
Spending time at Ray and Claire’s home was rather relaxing. They didn’t live in the middle of London with all the people and traffic and the noise that brought with it. They had a big house, a big garden, quiet neighbours around the street.
I needed the quiet, the relaxing, the comfortable atmosphere of a happy family. Ray and Claire were as nice and warm as ever, Matilda was mostly busy with her own things outside the house, and though Matt was taciturn he at least seemed more happy now the puppy was around.
Storm definitely lifted my moods as well, and I frequently fell into them. Damian was at school every day, Ray and Claire at work, Matilda and Matt at school, and I was home with the puppy and my laptop and my thoughts.
I had to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
I was doing okay—on welfare on all—but I wanted to do something more productive. I couldn’t do uni though. The stress of that would definitely land me in hospital. I knew myself well enough to know that much. And Vincent would agree.
As I sat there, poring over different websites and in the process of answering a questionnaire that would apparently tell me what kind of career I would be best suited for, my phone rang.
The screen showed Kian’s name and I answered immediately.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi! How are you feeling?’
‘I feel good.’ For once, that was true. It could all change in a second, I was more than aware of that, but for now… for now I felt good.
‘That’s great, Josh. Look, I just rang to ask if you wanted to join us at the pub later tonight? Have something to eat, a few pints, you know.’
Now that sounded interesting. It’d been a while since I’d had some quality time with friends. I hadn’t dared go out before, but… meeting some of them out at the pub… what could be the harm in that?
‘Who’s us?’
‘Well, for now it’s just me and Silver. But if you come, so will Damian. And if you’re up for more company, there’s no reason there should just be the four of us.’
Storm shifted at my feet, a heavy sigh leaving her. Fondness washed over me as I gazed down at her.
If Damian came with, he’d also walk home with me so I didn’t have to go alone. That had been my biggest fright since I got here and another big reason I hadn’t ventured outside to meet up with anyone.
‘That sounds great, Kian.’ It did. I felt ready to go out, to face the world. Maybe even move back home. ‘Text me the place and time and I’ll be there. I’ll text Chad, Tyler, Spencer and Leslie too. It’s been too long since we’ve met up, all of us.’
‘That is has,’ he agreed. ‘And awesome! I’ll text you, so… talk to you later.’
I put my phone down next to my computer and gazed at it. I should text Damian, tell him the plan.
I could invite Cooper too, perhaps… or not. I had heard from him since the hospital, but I hadn’t seen him. I had no idea what was going on with him. Men and alcohol like usual, or so both Grandma and Aunt Abbie had scoffed over dinner one night. Apparently they heard even less from him than I did.
Besides, Cooper and Damian were no fan of each other.
Not that Damian was a big fan of Chad either, but Cooper seemed to be his least favourite person lately. At least Chad was around, was there for me, which was more than could be said for Cooper.
Damian’s words, not mine, though he had a point.
All Cooper had texted me was ‘glad you’re okay’ and that was that.
It was just the way he was though. He was selfish and he was living his life. Living life for him consisted of lots of sex and alcohol.
Still, it was best to stick with the rest of them. Leslie and Spencer were old co-workers of Damian’s who’d also worked at Harriet’s Café. They were more my friends than his, which was a bit weird, considering he’d worked with them long before he even met me. But then Damian wasn’t the most sociable of blokes. He was happy with just Silver.
I’d been happy with just Damian too—and Silver, since he’d been there from the beginning. Then Kian had come along just days after we met, and after that I’d just made more and more friends. Spencer and Leslie first, then Chad, then Tyler.
I’d never had friends before and now I had more than I knew what to do with.
A door slammed and I jumped in my seat.
Was anyone supposed to come home now?
I glanced at the clock on my laptop. It was only two. It was too early.
Storm had woken up at my feet and both her ears were standing right up in alert.
I got off my chair and inched over to the doorway. I had a bad feeling. A really bad one.
No one had said they’d be home early. It was the most sensible explanation, but… I couldn’t help the anxiety suddenly twisting my stomach.
I glanced one way, towards the hallway. That door was closed, there was no shoes or jackets or rucksacks to witness another presence in the house.
The other way…
My heart literally skipped a beat. The veranda door was open. Not wide open, but lolling a bit, exactly as if it’d been slammed open and hadn’t managed to slide back closed afterwards.
No one used the veranda to enter the house. What was the point? That door was round the back of the house.
I hurried over to it, gaze shooting frantically from side to side. No one was out there.
Which meant… someone was in the house. Something cold slithered down my back, the hairs at the back of my neck rose.
Something moved.
I could see it in the glass of the door. I stood frozen—until someone grabbed the back of my neck and shoved me forward, slamming my forehead against the glass.
I didn’t even need to turn around, or hear his voice, to know who it was. I didn’t need any of that for the terror to spread through me.
But he did speak, and it was in the same calm, cold tone I heard almost every time I was asleep.
‘Hello, Joshua.’
His hand—his big, cold hand—clamped around the back of my neck. My forehead hurt from where he’d slammed me against the glass.
I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t say anything. Frozen in terror, that’s what I was. His hands were on me for the first time since I was fifteen. It brought it all back more clearly than any nightmare ever could.
It overwhelmed me.
‘Lucky me, got you all alone.’
Alone… Because no one was here. They were all at work, at school… I was all alone with him. Because I didn’t have anything worthwhile to fill my days with, I had to spend them alone, when I knew he was on the loose and following me.
How stupid could I be?
I didn’t realise what he was doing until my knees connected painfully with the floor. I barely caught myself with my hands right before my nose would’ve made a very forceful introduction to the floor.
I scrambled away. Instant relief flooded me when he didn’t grab my hips and force me back down.
I dared a look over my shoulder as I pushed myself up.
He was standing there, staring at me, hands hanging at his sides. Eyes as cold as ever. They hadn’t changed. He hadn’t changed. Same bloody bastard he’d always been. And once again, I was at his mercy.
‘What do you want?’ My voice didn’t sound like me.
His eyes narrowed.
‘You ruined me.’ He lunged for me, and I was too slow. His hand locked around the back of my neck and he forced me face-down on the floor. ‘People in prison aren’t too fond of those who’ve been with children.’
Had someone given him a taste of what it’d been like to be me?
Or maybe they’d just beat the shit out of him.
Whatever it was, I hoped it had hurt. I hoped it had hurt good. But it hadn’t hurt good enough, or permanently enough, because here he was.
And
here I was, just as helpless as I’d always been. At his mercy, as I’d been for such a long time.
Whatever he wanted to do to me, he could. He’d always been able to. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him. I never had been.
He had me face down on the floor. Nothing would stop him from pulling my joggers down and having his way with me like he’d done countless times before.
Claws clicked on the floor.
Looking up, I saw Storm standing there, head cocked to one side as she took us in.
Go away.
I wanted to shout it at her, but my throat didn’t work. I didn’t want her harmed. Let Andrew do whatever he wanted to me—I’d taken it before, I could take it again—but let her be. She was just a puppy. Defenseless…
‘You have no idea—’ Andrew was breathing heavily, I could feel his chest rising and falling against my shoulder, I could feel his breath on my temple. ‘No bloody idea what it was like.’
I had an idea. I would’ve preferred prison to the ten years with him, if I could’ve chosen. Never would I choose him.
‘What am I going to do now, huh? Branded an abuser, a paedophile. You ruined me.’
It was so unfair.
‘You r-ruined me.’ I didn’t know I’d dared speak until I heard myself say it and felt the tightening of his hand. Tears leaked from beneath the eyelids I’d just closed.
‘Ruined you?’ He was enraged now. ‘You’ve got a life, no convictions to tie you down, you’ve got a boyfriend, a family! And me? I’ve got nothing.’
‘Sh-should’ve th-thought of th-that—’
He slammed my head against the floor before I could finish. I cried out, pain spreading through my head. I saw stars for a moment there.
Painful sobs escaped me.
‘Pl-please…’ I didn’t know what I was begging for. I’d begged him so many times—for the pain to stop, for him to stop, for him to simply finish, for him to never come into my room, for him to quickly get out of my room—and now…
I just wanted it to be over with.
He let go of me.
I lay stunned for a second, then crawled forward.
Storm was still standing there, head now tilting to the other side.