Innocence (11 page)

M
ALACHI
’
S
CAR
isn’t in the field. I stop outside the camp, running my hands through the waist-high yellowing grass, letting the seedpods fall through my fingers. The sun is low, a burning hole in my vision, a fire behind my eyelids. Even if it’s likely he’ll ignore me, I still want him to know I exist.

Shane eyes me curiously from the open window of his van as I try to sneak past, so I stand taller and look out across the fields as I walk towards Finn’s.

I don’t know what they think is going on between Finn and I, and I don’t really want Dad to find out, but I’m getting sick of hiding what I am, what I feel.

“Hey,” Finn quirks his lips, surprised to find me on his doorstep. “You walk all this way to see me?”

I shrug. I should probably be more enthusiastic. Instead I wish he’d invite me in rather than slouching lazily against the doorframe, his sweatpants hung way too low, the thin material advertising what I already know is on offer. I don’t want to be standing out here like this.

“Can I come in?”

He steps aside, pinning me against the wall as soon as he closes the door.

“I was just thinking about you,” his voice hums against my neck, his fingers tickling the patch of damp skin at the base of my spine.

I’m not sure what I expected, but again he goes too fast. Stripping me and taking charge. We’re too evenly matched for him to pick me up, but he throws me against the bed and stretches out on top of me, fisting both our cocks in a painfully tight grasp until I come.

There is none of the sweet intensity of last time. He doesn’t kiss me, I don’t lose myself, I think about going home.

You’re a kid, Christopher, a fucking kid.

The words catch me unawares—Malachi’s voice in my head. My throat tightens up and I close my eyes so that Finn won’t see.

After he comes, he rolls off me and we lie side by side, everything yellowed in the light, my hand sticky against my stomach. Numbly I wonder how many others have lain here before me, how many will after. I’m under no illusion that Finn’s love is exclusive or ever will be, but then I don’t love him, do I, so why should it matter?

I find myself chattering on about nothing, just needing to talk or being in danger of falling into the chasm opening up inside me. Finn’s eyes keep closing, then jolting open when I speak.

Outside, Maisie barks excitedly, and, as though I’m having an out-of-body experience, I can see Malachi stood outside on the step by his van, his gaze like a laser boring holes through the thin walls of Finn’s van to see me lying here, spent and naked, his expression unreadable.

“Why does Malachi do it?”

“What?” Finn mumbles, restlessly slinging his arm across his eyes.

“Drink.”

“How should I know?”

“Has he always been like he is? Is that why you don’t like him?”

Finn makes an exasperated noise. “He ruined some girl’s life once, or so I heard. It eats away at him. Chris, close your eyes and go to sleep for a bit, yeah?”

A girl, I think dully. My heart couldn’t get any emptier, the space inside my chest more unpopulated.

“I’m not tired,” I mutter.

If he just held me instead of lying there half a meter away and dozing, I might shut up.

But with a sudden burst of energy, he jumps on top of me.

“I’m going to get you so drunk later, then fuck you through the bed.”

“Why do I have to be drunk?”

Swiftly he silences me, his lips against mine.

“You’ll relax more,” he whispers into my mouth. “Now sleep!”

I suppose I do after a while. It’s not a deep sleep, but my head feels stuffy when I wake. I shift in the bed, not used to so much space, and find it’s empty. I get up to open the flimsy window, looking out into the dusky dark at the sparse woods behind Finn’s caravan. It’s home I’m thinking about—Jay wondering where I am, the only person who really cares. I could do with him here right now, holding me like nobody else does or wants to.

With a plastic-sounding
crack
the bedroom door flings open and both Finn and Pixie step into the tiny space. Instinctively I grab the sheet to cover myself. Pixie catches my eye and, hating myself, I look away, ashamed.

“I should go,” I mumble incoherently, my fingers closing tighter round the sheet as I bend to pick up my messy pile of clothes from the floor at the end of the bed. I wish I could close my eyes and disappear.

“Chris, wait!”

Finn tries to grab me as I push past through the doorway. What was he thinking bringing her in there? I feel sick all the way down inside.

“Chris,” Pixie says quietly. Her hand brushes my arm. “You really don’t have to go.”

I swallow thickly. The living room is flickering with candlelight, a hundred tiny tea lights spread over every available surface like the worst sort of fire hazard, like votives in a church. It’s both eerie and beautiful at the same time.

“Yeah. I do,” I say without turning round.

“It’s okay,” she says, still behind me. A hand strokes down my back. “Have a drink with us, and then, if you want, I’ll take you home.”

Feeling a little mesmerized by the lights and weak at the thought of walking home in the dark (because I don’t want her to drive me, I’m too ashamed of being here in the first place), I nod and sit down in a pool of yellow light at the end of the sofa.

They bring me beer, we smoke a joint, and everything gets surreal again when Finn tells Pixie how easily I come, how he barely has to touch me. She smiles, her mouth all red and viper-like, and tells me she wants to see.

Someone places a tablet on my tongue. It fizzes. “What is it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Trust me, it’ll make you feel good. Relax.” Smiling, Finn crouches down and places a white pill in Pixie’s mouth and then one in his own. He reaches over to an old CD deck and switches it on. Music, like the stuff I hear blasting out the Tavern late at night, only he puts it on quieter and the effect is much more mellow.

He hums along as I swallow the tablet.

I fix my eyes on his as Pixie pulls away the sheet covering my lap. I lean towards him as he runs his hand over my head and kisses me.

“Let’s make you more comfortable,” Finn says.

They leave me to go get the mattress and pillows from the bedroom. It’s not cold, but my hands are shaking. Whatever effect the tablet is supposed to have, I don’t think it’s working. It’s definitely not making me feel good.

“Come here.” The mattress nearly fills up the living room floor. Finn beckons me to lie between them.

My legs are like jelly as I stand up. Dizzily I stare around at all the candles, suddenly scared the curtains are going to catch fire, the whole van go up in flames, and we’ll be trapped here inside an oven.

“Chris,” Finn calls softly, and I remember what I’m doing.

We kiss. It’s all I want to do, just kiss and kiss and kiss, even Pixie at one point, both their tongues in my mouth. I never want to stop. I think I say it out loud, and Finn reaches down and squeezes my shaft in agreement.

I understand everything.

Time becomes giddily irrelevant. Words don’t even make any sense.

When Finn pulls me up onto my knees, my limbs are like water and I just want to fall into him, collapse into his skin, into something that’s more than sex, more like
being
. I can’t think. All I do is feel—the sensation intensifying more and more, bringing me closer to the limit. But when my orgasm hits me, it happens suddenly, drowned in a wave of pain.

With difficulty I reach around to touch my lower back, where the pain was centered.

Wax. There is a softening river of wax along my spine.

He poured hot wax onto me.
The realization is clear as a candle flame before I pass out.

I
WAKE
up on deck. It’s early dawn, the sky is a beautiful rose gold, the birds are singing, and the air has the scent of rain. But I feel so sad. Tears pour down my face, and my chest is heavy and tight. Bits and pieces of the night come back to me, but they’re so disjointed it’s like a dream. Somehow I crawl down the wooden steps into the galley. Dad is asleep on the sofa, still dressed. He was probably waiting up for me. Holding my breath and moving as quietly as possible, I make it to our bedroom. Jay splays out restlessly on the bed, the covers on the floor. He’s wearing my T-shirt and boxer shorts, but I don’t care. I strip off and lie down next to him, my arms wrapping around him as I sob into his hair. Groggily he wakes up. He’s such a heavy sleeper. I turn him over so that he’s facing me. I need his arms around me. I need to feel him holding me.

“Christopher?” he whispers worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and bury my face in his skinny chest. I feel so bad. I’ve never felt like this.

With surprising strength he rolls me over onto my back. “Where were you last night? I was so worried! Dad was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

He wipes at my tears with his fingers, then squeezes his eyes shut, and holds me tight. But it’s not tight enough to stop me falling apart.

I
CURL
up on the floor of the shower feeling sore and bruised, holding my genitals.

However hard I try to focus on what happened last night, a blank space yawns open in my memory. I don’t think Finn fucked me, but I just can’t remember
anything
other than the burning candle wax.

Jay sits on the closed lid of the toilet watching me. He looks exhausted, his eyes red rimmed and wide with concern. After seeing the fading red welt down my spine, he thinks someone beat me up and doesn’t want to leave me on my own. And for once I don’t want to
be
on my own.

When Dad woke up, he was pissed as hell with me. I don’t think I even responded as he shouted. And now he’s gone out. Whatever he and Liam are up to, it seems to be taking a lot of his time.

The water turns cold—we must be running out of gas. Jay turns the shower off and wraps me in towels, guiding me to the sofa to watch cartoons while he makes me some sugary tea and toast. I start to feel a little better, though the depressed mood I woke up in still stretches out inside me, darkly blanketing everything.

I’m half-asleep, my head in Jay’s lap, when there is a knock on the hatch.

“Stay here.” Jay puts his hand on my arm and gets up. I’ve never seen him look so fiercely protective. I want to hug him.

“Is Chris there?”

It’s Finn.

“Who are you?”

Jay couldn’t sound less welcoming if he tried. I smile despite myself, not used to this weird role reversal.

“A friend.”

“He’s sleeping right now.”

“Trust me, he won’t mind me waking him up.”

“I mind,” Jay says firmly.

I bite my lip. I don’t really want to see Finn, but I should go rescue Jay, even if this is the most assertive I’ve ever heard him be.

Stiffly, I get up and walk over to the galley steps to stand behind Jay.

Finn looks terrible, standing out on the deck in the clothes he probably slept in. His expression turns strained yet hopeful when he sees me.

“Chris.” He swallows nervously. “Things, well, ah, things got a bit out of hand last night. Can I buy you breakfast to say sorry?”

His tone is light, but I can tell he’s afraid he’s fucked things up. And he has. I’m not going to make him feel better about it.

“I’m not hungry,” I say coldly, gently brushing past Jay, who stands frozen to the spot between the top step and the hatch.

“Can I buy you a drink, then?”

“How did I get home this morning?”

“Pixie. She had an early shift at the hospital. I was a bit too out of it to protest. I’m sorry.”

It suddenly hits me this isn’t the best place to be carrying on this conversation. Jay doesn’t know what to make of it, of us. And because I haven’t told him what happened, talking to Finn here like this is hurting him.

“Wait for me at the Tavern over there,” I say to Finn, just to get him off the boat. I know they open early.

My clothes are where I left them on the floor of our room.

“Who is he?”

Jay stands behind me as I gingerly pull on my T-shirt. I don’t turn round. I want to tell him, but I’m so ashamed. I grip onto the rail that surrounds our bed.

“Finn. From work.” I find I can hardly speak.

When I finally look at him, he’s not crying, but his eyes are full of tears.

“You asked me yesterday if Lorne was my girlfriend….”

“Don’t,” I say quickly, taking his hand in mine. “There’s stuff I can’t tell you, I’m sorry. I’ve made such a mess of things. I just can’t….” I choke the words out. Even saying this much makes me want to throw up my breakfast.

Jay crumples. Of all the things that kill me, this is the worst.

“I’ll be twenty minutes tops,” I promise.

Dragging my sleeve across my eyes, I step out on deck. It’s raining, just a slow, gray drizzle. No thunder, no lightning.

I walk into the Tavern. Finn is sitting at a table near a window looking morose.

With a leaden heart, I slump down onto a stool opposite. “What did you give me last night? I feel like shit.”

“It was supposed to be an e but, yeah, I’m sorry. I feel like crap too, if it’s any consolation.”

I shake my head. It’s not.

This is so fucked up. I still feel guilty after everything. I still feel that Pixie should hate me, even just sitting here with him, even after last night. I feel so bad about everything. It’s worse than before.

“You… remember much?”

“Only how much you hurt me when you poured fucking wax down my back.”

Finn sucks in air between his teeth, looking surprisingly mortified. “Are you okay?”

“I should have a nice scar.”

It’s not actually as bad as that, but I want him to know he hurt me.