The Boy with the Whiplash Tattoo

Eleven

I curled up under the blanket, my legs drawn into my chest as far as they would go, making myself as small as possible. This is how I would sleep when I was small, to make it harder to get to me.

Aaron was in the other room. When I came out of the bath I didn't even look at him. I felt his eyes on me, and the concern coming from him was clear. It seemed wrong to reject him when he was finally paying me some attention, but I couldn't face him now. I was ashamed. I shouldn't have run off. If I hadn't that man wouldn't have...I shuddered just thinking about it.

It had brought back painful memories, those unwanted hands on me. And I wasn't ready to share those intimate parts of who I was. Not yet anyway.

The bedroom door slid open and Aaron slipped quietly inside. I pulled the blanket closer around me and pretended to be asleep.

He stood at the edge of the bed and watched me for a few moments, in the slant of light coming from the hallway.

"Can I get in with you?" He asked, and I didn't know how he could tell I wasn't really asleep.

I shrugged, not wanting to tell him to go away. Not when he was being so carefully attentive.

He got in beside me and reached out to touch my shoulder tentatively.
I flinched away, afraid of his touch, my mind a mess of so many things.

He took his hand away and tucked it against him.
"I can show you..." He swallowed, as if nervous. "I can show you how good it can be, how gentle and kind," he finished.

I looked at him, surprised by his words, surprised that he cared all of a sudden.
"Thank you," I said awkwardly, for lack of anything else, there was barely any love between us, so why would this make any sense. "But not today."

Today I am still too afraid, and my whole body clenches up in fear of it.

He nodded. "I understand." And he sank down lower into the bed, as close to the edge and far away from me as possible, and went to sleep.

I couldn't sleep. It lurked on the edge of my mind but it would not come. I so badly wanted it's relief. Maybe it was because of the shadow of a man beside me, or because of the warmth coming from him, or the strange noises he made as he slept. He was having nightmares, and I was living one. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the man from tonight, and the one from years ago, and my father shouting at me that everything is my fault.

I held my breath to keep the crying in. I held my breath until I thought my head would explode, until I thought I would die, and then let it all out in one big gasping sigh and felt it start all over again. My heart thumped loudly in my ears and my blood seemed on fire. I was sure I was drowning, and I was kind of OK with that.