Chapter Thirty Five
It’s impossible to sleep. I feel empty, but my head is full of memories, images, all sorts. So very slowly I untangle myself from Cheryl and put a robe on before tiptoeing out of the bedroom.
I clean up every bit of mess I made, every little shard of glass, every broken mug and plate. Once or twice some of it catches on my skin, and by the time I’m finished I have little cuts, spots of blood all over my hands. I wash them without really caring, the stinging when I dry them not bothering me in the slightest.
The only thing I left on the living room floor was the picture I broke, with its empty frame. I stand over it for ages, just staring at it, as if I’m hoping it will vanish or something. Eventually I pick it up, go back in the kitchen and drop it into the bin. I go back to bed then, lie down next to Cheryl watching her sleep. I realize then that she’s probably the only thing I have in the world. I have Adam – but he isn’t even my real brother any more. Something else my dad ruined with that letter.
**
I didn’t think I would ever sleep, but I must drift off, because I am woken by Cheryl’s lips brushing gently against mine, feel her hand stroking up and down my arm. I open my eyes and see hers, full of concern, watching me. ‘Hi.’ I whisper.
She smiles, resting our foreheads together. ‘Morning babe… did you get much sleep?’
‘N-not really… a little. I couldn’t sleep so I cleaned up… everything.’
‘Yeah, I saw. I would have done it, you know.’
‘It’s okay… I’m really sorry.’ I feel my eyes filling up again, and I’ve only been awake two minutes. ‘I never – I just lost it, I snapped… I’m so sorry you had to come home to that.’
I see Cheryl’s eyes are swimming too. ‘I understand.’ She whispers.
‘Chez… please, please don’t cry, I’m sorry…’ I slither closer to her and hug her tightly. She’s shaking. ‘I never meant to scare you, babe, please don’t cry. Please don’t hate me…’
‘Hey, I don’t hate you!’ she says firmly, sitting up on her knees and wiping her eyes. ‘Don’t talk daft, Kimberley, of course I don’t hate you. I just – it just--’
‘Does – did it remind you?’ I said nervously. Cheryl doesn’t answer. I sit up too, slowly reach out and hold her face in my hands. ‘Tell me.’
‘Th-there was – once – I came home from a gig and the house was – a mess. He’d been drinking, there were cans everywhere… and--’
‘He hit you?’
Cheryl nods. ‘It’s alright.’ She insists, putting her hands on mine. ‘I knew the second I saw the look on your face something wasn’t right, I knew. It’s ok. It only reminded us for a second, then I was just worried about you. It was different with him, last night you were… I understand.’
I’m only half listening to Cheryl. I watched her raise her hands, and my eyes locked on her wrists.
Both of them are covered in bruises.
I grab one of her hands, pulling her arm closer towards me, and she gasps loudly.
‘What the hell are these?!’
‘Kimberley--’
‘Who did this? What happened?’
‘Kimberley you’re hurting me!’ she shouts.
I instantly let go of her wrist and raise my hands out of the way, but I don’t relent. ‘Who did that?’
Cheryl curls up at the end of the bed, folding her arms.
‘Cheryl. Look at me. Please.’
She raises her head, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Cheryl.’ I moan, burying my face in my hands. Only a few seconds pass before I feel the bed move, and Cheryl sliding up next to me. ‘Kim, it’s--’
‘Don’t say it’s nothing, Cheryl, on top of everything else going on in my head I can’t take being lied to. Please…’
