Tortured Hearts - Twisted Tales of Love - Volume 1

by A. J. Armitt

  “Hi, Cathy, it’s good to see you again.”

  “You too, Simon,” I shout back. I’m lying of course. During the whole time we were at school together, Simon Attwood had never paid me a second glance. Why would I care if I’d ever saw him again? Still, I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be polite.

  “I’ve been watching you from over the way, and I was wondering... Would you like to dance?”

  Despite my inward shudder, I smile sweetly at the perma-tanned, thirty-six year old in the spray on jeans. Perhaps politeness is over-rated.

  “No thanks, Simon, I’m just going to the bar. But thanks for asking.”

  He doesn’t give up. “Can I buy you a drink then?”

  “Eh? Oh, no thanks. I’m in a round with friends.” I point to the three women standing next to me. Not one of them has even noticed that I’ve ‘pulled’.

  Simon shrugs his shoulders, “its okay. I’ll get this round if you like?”

  Did I think ‘air of desperation’? He reeks of it.

  “No, Simon, it’s okay honestly. Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather buy the drinks myself if you don’t mind.” I edge away from him. There are dark patches under the arms of his nylon shirt, and I think he’s in danger of leaking on me. As I make my way towards the bar, I can’t help but look over my shoulder at the crestfallen Simon.

  Christ! He’s let himself go.

  He turns towards my three ‘friends’, and they accept him into their circle, no doubt grateful for some male attention; even that of a balding, beer-bellied lothario. Their beer-goggles must be working overtime.

  “Four glasses of white wine please.” I smile sweetly at the barman as he takes my order ahead of the other less attractive people at the bar. I don’t even mind that he takes a sly look at my tits.

  Another false laugh and I glance involuntarily across the bar, instantly regretting it. Tiffany Peters catches my eye and raises her glass in greeting. I force a smile, turn on my heel and head back towards my ‘friends’.

  Simon is still standing with them, but fortunately for me he has set his sights on Anna Gresham, and the twice-divorced-mum-of-three is revelling in the attention. She hasn’t even noticed the pasty, white band of flesh on his wedding finger. Stupid bitch! His wife’s probably sitting at home right now; completely oblivious of what her husband’s up to. I know I should say something, but to be honest, I really can’t be bothered. That’s not why I’m here; to catch up with forgotten friends and chat about the old times. I came here for one reason and one reason only. The only problem is... he hasn’t turned up.

  For the umpteenth time this evening, I question why I’ve even bothered coming here at all. I find myself scouring the room for my absent love. Tom Malone. Even the sound of his name stirs a deep longing within me.

  From the moment I received Tiffany Peters’ Facebook invite to this, the lamest of High School Reunions, one thought has pre-occupied my troubled mind; a frantic and desperate hope that I would once again meet up with my childhood crush and finally let him know how I truly feel.

  My mouth curls into a delighted smile as my mind retreats through time. I’m once again floating in a sea of coats, half naked on the closet floor at Anna Gresham’s sixteenth birthday party. The Bangles ‘Eternal Flame’ is playing in the background, and Tom Malone is lying beside me. He’s drunk and flushed with that compulsory post-coitus awkwardness that comes with a boy’s first sexual experience.

  The smile slips from my face. I’m back at school. Hot tears are pouring down my cheeks on hearing the news that Tom is dating Tiffany Peters. It won’t last. It never does when you’re sixteen, but worse still is the news that he doesn’t want to speak to me. Perhaps it’s because he’s embarrassed by his lack-lustre performance, or because his friends are mocking him for shagging the fat, spotty, wall-flower. Whatever the reason; it hurts more than I can say. I wipe a tear from my cheek.

  A girl never forgets her first.

  “Cathy?”

  For the second time this evening, someone calls out my name, but this time the voice is soft, gentle; barely audible over the din. As I turn around, I half expect my bored gaze to meet that of another fat and balding admirer. Instead I’m met with the shy smile of a distant love.

  “Tom?” His smile widens, and although he is older by twenty years, he is instantly recognisable. Tall, slim and with the same chocolate button eyes that first attracted me to him; Tom Malone is every inch the man I would have expected him to become.

  He draws closer to me, but not in that confident, over-familiar way in which some men invade your personal space. He behaves more like a child who has done something wrong and expects to be scolded at any moment.

  “I thought it was you. Wow, you look fantastic.” He glimpses at me and then looks away. His face reddens.

  Is he so unused to giving compliments, or is he expecting a rebuttal?

  I smile at him and his cheeks flush an even darker shade of crimson. I’ve heard that most women list confidence as a trait they find attractive in a man, but not me. It was Tom’s shyness that attracted me to him in the first place. “Thank you,” I simper.

  “Look...” his eyes wander around the room. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight... If I’m honest... you’re the only reason I am here.” He looks me in the eye, and I bite my lip, not yet wanting him to know how excited I am to see him.

  He pushes his hands into his pockets and stares at the floor. He looks so awkward, uncomfortable. I just want to throw my arms around him and let him know I really don’t care. He’s here now, and he’s here for me. That’s all I need to know.

  “Th-There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a very long time,” he says. I cock my eyebrow in his direction. I shouldn’t make this too easy for him.

  “Y-you were my first,” he stammers, “and I should have treated you better, but I didn’t. It’s just that it was over so quick... so soon. His face reddens again. “I was embarrassed.”

  He looks like a sad, puppy dog, and I feel my resolve diminish further.

  “I-I’m sorry,” he says.

  My heart almost skips a beat. He opens his mouth to say more, but I cut him short, placing the palm of my hand on his cheek. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “You do?” Tom visibly sighs with relief and mumbles, “Thank you.”

  As if on cue, the music softens. The end of the night is drawing near. The DJ announces that the last few songs of the evening are for the lovers. Tom stands back nervously, like a rabbit caught in a headlight.

  “Will you dance with me?” I ask.

  He looks embarrassed. “I’m not much of a dancer, but sure, if you like.”

  I give him a hug, but then draw back. I’ve waited almost twenty years for this; I need him to wait a little bit longer. “I’ll be back in a second.” I kiss the bemused Tom on the cheek and totter in the direction of the toilet. I feel like the happiest girl alive!

  My makeup needs refreshing. I want Tom to see me as the beautiful, confident woman that I have become. The first ballad of the evening is still playing in the background. I still have time to apply a little powder before the last dance.

  As I apply the last lick of red lipstick, the toilet door swings open. It’s Tiffany Peters, and although I shudder inwardly, I strengthen my resolve. Not even that bitch can spoil this evening for me. I’ve waited too long for this.

  “Oh hi, Cathy. Nice to see you could make it.”

  “Tiffany.” I nod politely, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  “Fabulous evening isn’t it? I’ve caught up with so many old friends tonight. How about you?”

  “One or two,” I almost whimper. As she draws close to me, I take a deep breath. Even the perfume she is wearing threatens to overpower me. She opens her clutch purse and removes her own bright red lipstick. As she leans into the mirror, she continues the one-sided conversation.

  “The night’s a bit short on talent though, isn’t it?”

  �
�I suppose.” Jesus! She really is beautiful. Seeing her reflection next to mine, only serves to highlight my own numerous flaws. It’s as though I’m standing in the presence of a goddess. Subconsciously I take a step back from the mirror.

  “That Simon Attwood’s really let himself go. I can’t believe I used to shag him back in the day. Married with three kids he is now. Hasn’t stopped the dirty sod making a move on your old friend, Anna Gresham, though, has it?”

  “No, I don’t suppose it has.” I hurriedly replace my lipstick and close my bag. My newfound confidence is slipping away by the second. I have to get out of here.

  “Still, that Tom Malone’s just turned up. Better late than never, eh?” A cool sweat breaks out across my back, and I slowly turn towards the smirking Tiffany.

  “I used to shag him too, you know. But to be honest, he was a bit shit back then. He had all the right equipment, but didn’t know what to do with it, if you know what I mean.” Tiffany stops applying her lipstick and grins. “Ha! From what I remember, you do know what I mean!” she playfully slaps me on the arm.

  I want to slap her in the face.

  “Oh well, you never know. He may have improved with age! Once I’ve finished applying the war paint, I think I’ll go and try and find out. At least he’s kept himself in shape.”

  Oh no, not again. I feel another hot rush of blood to my head.

  As I rush from the toilets, hot tears run down my cheeks. I have to find Tom. My head spins every which way, but he remains hidden from view. Has he left? Panic takes me in its grip, and a low sob escapes from my throat.

  “Cathy? Are you alright?” It’s Tom. He’s still here after all. My heart attempts to leap from my chest.

  “Tom? I thought you’d left.”

  He smiles, and my stomach flutters with longing. “Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily,” he chuckles. “I had a request to make.”

  “A request?” He looks towards the DJ. The man smiles and the Bangles ‘Eternal Flame’ begins to play.

  “You remembered.”

  “I never forgot,” he replies. He takes me gently around the waist and we come together as one. I melt into his chest.

  Susannah Hoff’s gorgeous voice warbles out my favourite song, as Tom caresses the nape of my neck with the tips of his fingers. Cold shivers shoot up and down my spine and I shudder at the merest hint of his touch before pulling him even tighter. It’s as though we are the only two people in the world. I close my eyes, and listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart.

  As we sway in time to the music, a commotion breaks out from the other side of the room. A group of women are screaming. One of them is vomiting in the punch bowl.

  Tom raises his head, “Unbelievable. You’d think that by their mid-thirties, some people would be able to handle their drink a little better.”

  I pull away from him and take him by the hand. “C’mon,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.” I’ve waited twenty years for this evening. No-body is going to spoil it for me. Not even Tiffany Peters.

  I lead him towards the exit. He doesn’t argue. Outside the air is cold, and I cuddle up to him. “Your place or mine?” I suggest. Tom looks a little embarrassed. He pecks my head before answering.

  “Mine, if that’s okay.”

  I give him a gentle nod. As we make our way to his car, I beam with delight.

  His place is only fifteen minutes away, an apartment overlooking the quays. We barely make it through the front door before I begin to tear at his clothes. I need to feel him inside me.

  We make frantic love there and then, on the landing carpet, he with his trousers around his ankles, me with my dress hitched above my waist. I shudder with ecstasy as he brings me to climax. He takes me by the hand, and leads me to the bedroom, where I peel off my dress and throw it across the room.

  Cool air puckers my nipples and a naked Tom delights in their firmness. He puts his arms around me and lifts me gently onto the king-sized bed. We make love again, slowly, sensually; our fingers caressing each other’s skin; our mouths exploring each other’s bodies. Tom is a wonderful lover so gentle, so considerate; the clumsy fumblings of an awkward schoolboy, long forgotten. Slowly, assuredly, he builds me to a second orgasm... and then a third.

  His face is contorted, I know he is close. My nails dig deep into his skin, and my ankles lock around his buttocks. He lets out a guttural cry, and then collapses next to me, his firm body glistening with perspiration. I cuddle up close to him. This is how it should be. We were meant to be together.

  Tom’s bedroom is eerily quiet. Diffused lamp-light from outside his window casts orderly shadows through the slatted blinds. I can see my red dress. It’s hanging over a chair. It’s probably ruined. Even in this half light, I can see the tiny spots of blood that stain the delicate fabric. I know I should dispose of it, destroy it, but to do so would mean that I have to let go of Tom, and I want to hold onto him for as long as possible.

  Tiffany Peters. The image of the woman who has haunted my dreams for so long wanders into view of my mind’s eye. I see her clearly. As clear as that last moment we spent together in the girl’s toilets at the Reunion.

  Her porcelain skin is ragged and torn, and her once cute button nose is smashed flat and broken. Those twin pools of blue are marbled, red and bloody, and one has a shard of glass protruding from its weeping socket. Despite her ruined features, I am still able to recognise that same look of surprise. It is the one she wore when I seized her by the back of the head and repeatedly hammered her face in the toilet mirror before leaving her there, bleeding and unconscious on the piss-stained, tiled floor. Tiffany Peters is no longer beautiful, no longer a goddess. And I can’t help but smile at that thought.

  In the distance, the police sirens grow ever closer. It won’t be long now. People saw me leave with Tom. They’ll know where to find me.

  He emits a low snore, and my smile curls further. He looks for all the world like the young boy I used to know; my first and only love. I snuggle closer still, for I know that in a few moments, we will be torn apart once more.

  ***

  AJ Armitt lives with his wife and three children in Manchester. He currently has one book in circulation ‘Entwined – Tales from the City’ and is writing a sequel. He can be found on twitter @AnthonyJArmitt

  A Mother’s Love

  By Paul Murphy

  A mirage, shimmering in the morning heat blurred the far end of the airfield as Captain Lucy Kent strode purposefully toward the field hospital tents. She stole a quick glance up at a Hercules transport plane approaching from the west. Tilting slightly, the huge plane lined up with the runway before it descended and disappeared from view into the haze.

  “Not long now before I’m sitting on that,” she thought to herself as she entered the main tent. She had made a promise to herself as soon as she had touched down in Helmund province never to leave her nine year old son, David, again. It was one thing being in the Territorial Army on a wet week-end in Aldershot, but quite another to do a four month tour of Afghanistan. Part of her hoped he hadn’t missed her too much. The other part hoped he had.

  “Lucy, what are you doing here?” asked Colonel James Smart taking a lingering glance at Lucy. The blonde, willowy, intelligent young doctor had stolen his heart the moment she had entered the hospital all those months ago. “Your flight home should be here by now.”

  “Just landing now, Sir. I’m packed and ready to go. Thought I’d take one last walk through and say some good-byes.”

  Colonel Smart smiled at her. “Ever the good Doctor, eh!”

  Far in the distance, a massive explosion rumbled like thunder. Lucy froze as the sound wave rolled across the wide valley they were in, emanating from the hills.

  “Jesus! Here we go again. Stand by everyone, we’ve got patrols up in those hills and that sounded like an A12 payload,” said the Colonel. “Lucy, get yourself on that plane right now. No arguments.”

  She offered the Colonel a baleful smile
, shrugging her shoulders. “There’s a large gin and tonic that’ll be waiting for you back home, Colonel. You keep your head down, and I’ll see you in the Royal Oak when you get back.”

  “Make it a large one, now go... get back to that son of yours!”

  Outside Lucy shielded the sunlight from her eyes and looked to the distant hills, far across the flat valley floor. Giant plumes of smoke rose into the clear sky.

  “God, I need to get out of here,” she muttered, looking down the runway for the plane. It was still lost in the haze so she turned to walk back to the embarkation tent and her kit bag.