And my whole body tenses. I’m suddenly holding her tighter. Ready to push her away from me. She flinches, her eyes suddenly closed as my grip tightens on her shoulders. But I don’t push her away. I hold her closer again. I press a kiss onto the top of her head. Her head on my chest. I wonder if she can feel my heart beating, fluttering away inside my chest like a tiny, trapped songbird. Scared. Fragile. But I know I’ve got to be so strong. I close my eyes.
“What did he do to you baby? What the hell did he do to you?” I whisper into her hair.
“Nothing, I just wanted to talk...I...we, we wanted to talk.”
“No, no Cheryl, what about the bruises? You don’t get bruises from talking, do you?” I try my hardest to keep my voice calm. I can’t let her see my anger. But I am angry, of course I am. And scared. I don’t want to think about what he could have done to her.
“I don’t...I can’t, please-” she murmurs. Wriggling. More hot tears spilling from her eyes and cascading down her cheeks.
“I just want to know what happened baby. I need to know. Please.”
“He texted me, texted me when my mam had gone to work. She’d never let him come here, but she can’t stop him, cos he’s out on bail...or something...I don’t know-” She stammers. Stops talking. Her voice almost breaks down. And it’s only fear keeping me together now. He was here, right here in her Barbie pink bedroom...
“And what happened-?”
“I don’t want to talk about it-”
“What did he do to you?” I ask her again. And she just looks at me.
“He was angry. Of cause he was angry. He’s allowed to be angry, he’s got a right to be angry-”
“He hasn’t got a right to do this to you though. Nobody has a right to knock you about like this. Look at your bruises, baby-”
“He wanted to make me see how much he loves me-”
“Is that love though?” I murmur. She pauses. Touches her tongue to her lips gently.
“I don’t know.” She runs her fingers over her bruised arms. “He gave me something to relax me. He just wanted me to...to see how much he loves me-” I frown as she speaks, running my eyes carefully over her unmade bed, pink sheets. Clashing with her red bruises.
“Did...did you have sex with him? Oh god, did he make you have sex with him?”
“No, oh god no! K-Kimberley! No!” She raises a hand, covering her mouth as though she feels physically ill. “I wouldn’t, how-how could you say that?”
“So what happened?”
“I just wanted to talk to him-” she insists. But her voice shakes. “I want some c-closure. I want to be able t-to say ‘that was us, and now, a-and now that’s all gone.’ I j-just need some closure-”
“But you didn’t just talk, did you?” I scrape a tiny strand of her hair out of her eyes. My nails gentle on her skin. Trying to keep a note of accusation out of my voice. I’m not sure if it works.
“Oh god, I should have known Kim. I’m so, so, so stupid baby. He was so, so angry. Said he’d been through hell, holed up in some bloody cell all night, going out of his mind. And then he said it was my fault. And then he said that he still loved me. Pinned me down to my bed. Which is how I go the bruises, I suppose. I wanted to get away, because I was scared.” she traces the shape of a love heart over my chest. Over my skin. And I can’t be angry with her. I hold her tiny arm gently in my hand, tracing my finger over the angry red mark curling across her skin. Making her flinch away from me. Twisting her body away from my touch like a skulking, tiny animal. Fear mixing with the drugs and adrenaline, surging through her blood. I feel a sick, hot, burning feeling inside my chest.
