‘It looks pretty raw; you might want to get a tetanus shot.’
‘No, it’s fine, honestly.’ Keen to change the subject, Charlie chose to make light of it instead. ‘Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to stare at my dick?’
‘Dream on, mate,’ Milo chuckled. ‘Dream on.’
The truth was there had been no barbed wire, only a shard from the drinking glass Charlie accidentally broke weeks earlier and kept. He had been using it to cut himself ever since. Before each incision, he stood upright in the bath with the glass in his hand to see if anticipation of the act might prompt an emotion. But nothing came. Therewas no trepidation, no excitement, anxiety or feeling of release from any of the lines of blood dripping down his leg and into the porcelain tub.
Yet something compelled him to repeat the action every few days. New Charlie might have disliked the old version of himself, but quietly wondered if a diluted form was lurking somewhere if only to assure him that he was still human.
‘Can I borrow your shampoo?’ Milo asked and Charlie passed it to him.
‘I love how you have a never-ending supply of these tiny bottles,’ said Milo. ‘It’s like you’ve robbed a hotel.’
Charlie still hadn’t told any of his new friends that he was living at La Maison du Court. It would require too much explaining if they discovered someone earning a little over the living wage was spending his nights at the most expensive hotel in Manchester. But his conscience wasn’t pricked by dishonesty. He began to question whether he still possessed one. His lies only had to continue for another week before a room became available in a flat-share with two work colleagues. Perhaps living a more ordinary existence might lead him towards normality.
Later that evening, Charlie accompanied the rest of the team to a pub adjacent to the indoor sports centre where they played their weekly matches. He’d been deliberately losing bottles of beer or pouring them away all night. And those he couldn’t get away with disposing of were swiftly followed by bathroom breaks to force himself to vomit before the anti-alcohol implant did it for him and in front of everyone.
‘Are you seeing anyone?’ Andrew, another new friend, asked him suddenly.
‘No, not at the moment.’
‘What’s your type? Tall, short, skinny, plus-size, boy, girl?’
‘I don’t really mind,’ he replied. ‘Well, girl, obviously.’
‘It’s never obviously,’ Andrew continued. ‘What are you Milo, pansexual? Bi? You seem to change from one month to the next.’
‘Never close a door before you’ve opened it,’ Milo winked.
‘Why do you ask?’ said Charlie.
‘If you’re in the market for a non-DNA Match date, my girlfriend’s cousin is single again.’ He unfolded his phone and showed Charlie her Instagram profile. She was an attractive woman with dark brown hair, prominent cheekbones and deep brown, flecked eyes framed by heavy eyebrows.
‘Thanks, but I’m okay,’ Charlie replied. It wasn’t that he didn’t find Alix attractive; he just wasn’t attracted to anyone lately. Days earlier, he realised he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an erection, let alone masturbated. His sex drive had completely evaporated.
‘My round, same again?’ he asked the table, to a chorus of approval.
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Milo and accompanied Charlie to the bar. The way Milo wrung his hands warned Charlie something was bothering him. Of the group, he was probably the closest to Milo, at least superficially.
‘Good game tonight,’ Milo began. ‘It was … um … a good result.’
‘What’s on your mind, big man?’
‘It’s … a bit … well … awkward.’
‘Just say it.’
‘That cut on your leg. I was thinking about it and it looked a bit, I don’t know, too neat and too straight to have been caused by barbed wire.’
‘Oh, right,’ Charlie nodded. He raised his eyebrows almost confrontationally, but softened the edges with a cock of his head. ‘Does it?’
Milo nodded and cleared his throat. ‘It looks as if it might have been done … you know … well, not accidentally.And a couple of times when we’ve been out, I’ve heard you being sick in the toilets. Even earlier tonight.’
‘First you’re staring at my dick in the showers and now you’re following me to the toilets,’ joked Charlie. ‘I mean, I’m flattered but you’re not my type.’
‘I just wanted to say that it can help to talk.’
‘About what?’
