Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer

Part 69

69

"Hello?" Caitlin's voice said softly behind the curtain.

"I'm here," I answered from the chair outside, beside a rack of stringy satin and lace. If I didn't look too closely at the lingerie beside me, didn't think about how little Caitlin was wearing and firmly focussed on the memory of her broken fingers covered in blood on the beach, I could almost keep it together.

She stuck her head out, clutching at the curtain so it didn't reveal anything I really didn't need to see, except her bare shoulder. "Is the shop assistant there? I need help and I don't know how much longer I can stand up…" She swallowed, looking worried. The dark circles under her eyes only served to make them look bigger and sadder.

I crossed to the entrance of the change rooms and looked. The music over the shop speakers was a lot louder out here, but it didn't improve the perky pop song any. The teenage sales assistant was busy with a couple of giggling teenage customers, so she ignored my frantic waving. Maybe she just didn't hear me over the loud music. I headed back in to Caitlin.

Grabbing the chair I'd been sitting in, I said, "She's busy. I can help, if you like." I held out the chair, so its outline took shape through the curtain. "First, you should sit down." I slid it through the gap, closing my eyes until I felt her take the chair from me.

"Thank you," Caitlin replied. She took a deep breath, like she needed to say more. "But…I still need help with fastening things," she finished in a rush.

Fuck. "I'll go see if she's free," I told her as I headed for the entrance again. The giggly girls continued to ignore me. I returned. "Sorry, angel, she's not. Can I help?"

I could hear her breathing, but she didn't reply for a few slow breaths. "You remember how you helped me get dressed this morning?"

I laughed. "Of course, angel. I'll close my eyes or keep my eyes down the whole time. Don't you worry." Think horrible thoughts. Twisted, broken fingers. The gunshot wound in her leg, bleeding onto the road. Keep a blank face.

I slipped behind the change room curtain, my eyes on the grey carpet. A quick glance up told me Caitlin was sitting sideways in the chair, resting her arm on the back of it, so she had her back to me. As long as I stayed behind her, I might manage not to stare at anything she didn't want me to see. Of course, I wasn't counting on the surrounding mirrors, making sure even the slightest glance gave me a panoramic view.

She held out the back of her bra. I sighed and started on those little hooks. One, then the other one…oh shit, now the first one again…I hate these bloody…Done.

I risked a glance up. Strawberry-red satin lifting a lovely cleavage. I closed my eyes. Not strawberries. Think of blood.

"Nathan, could you…" I opened my eyes. I didn't have to – I could undo her bra with my eyes closed. I kept my eyes on her back while she slipped the red one off and slipped something black on instead.

Smooth skin, marred only slightly by the pink and white patches where her ulcers had been. Healing rapidly, she'd already recovered so much. Far from the shadow of herself that I'd seen stretched out on the sand, she was every bit as real and vibrant as the angel I saw tripping down the Terrace. I wanted to…

"Nathan?"

Black hooks on black satin. I tried to focus on that bit, not the curve of black lace tempting me in the mirror. Think of her screaming in the dark, when there was nothing, NOTHING you could do to calm her down. I could feel my face wincing at the memory.

"Please…"

Pink and patterned, the swell of skin above them like the top of a tight-fitting corset. Pink like the scars on her ankles, where I'd had to peel the bloodied rope away…

Black and white stripes, cutting into her flesh like a knife blade about to pierce the skin…

Blood-red with black edging, like an encrustation of fresh and dried blood on her skin as she lay barely conscious on the sand…

Plain black satin, as dark as the inside of a nightmare when I couldn't stop her from screaming…

White satin, pure and pale like her face had been on the beach, when I'd thought she was dead…

"Can I help you with anything?" the salesgirl asked behind me, treading on my foot as it stuck out behind the curtain.

"Oh, thank God!" I blurted out, as relief rushed over me. I wouldn't have to conjure up any more horrible memories of Caitlin's injuries to stop myself thinking about her in her underwear.

A sharp intake of breath and I dared to open my eyes. Caitlin's reflection stared at me, looking shocked and hurt. Instead of a new bra, she wore a silky little black nightdress and she looked nothing short of incredible. It hurt to look at her – close enough to touch and yet untouchable.

"Miss, are you okay in there?" the salesgirl asked, sticking her head inside the curtain. She squinted suspiciously at me, kneeling behind Caitlin.

"Fine," Caitlin said absently, whisking a tear off her cheek before the girl saw it. She reached for the hangers, laden with what she'd tried on. "I'll take these ones, with the matching knickers, all in small." She split the pile and handed a small stack to her, the strawberry-red one on top. "And you can keep these." The larger pile went to the girl's other hand. The girl didn't move, still gaping at me. "He's helping me," Caitlin said angrily. "Now let me get changed into my clothes."

The salesgirl opened her mouth like a flustered fish as she backed out and left.

Good riddance.

I looked at Caitlin, who gazed pointedly back at me. I closed my eyes and heard the rustle of satin as she took the nightdress off.

"You looked beautiful in that one," I said suddenly, feeling like I had to say something.

Caitlin didn't say anything until she needed my help. "One last bra, please, Nathan."

I fastened it fairly quickly this time – I was getting the hang of those bloody hooks. Deep purple satin, the colour of a blossoming bruise…Fuck.

Satin draped over her arm, Caitlin left the change room as soon as she was dressed, while I struggled to my feet and stumbled along behind her. She laid the nightdress on the counter. "This one, too."

I wanted to apologise. I wanted to explain. Most of all, I wanted to see her wear any of her new purchases without having to dredge up horrific thoughts. I wondered if there'd ever be a day I could think about her body without imagining blood.

I didn't have a hope in hell.