“A.. a lasagne?” My stomach aches from laughing. “You’d.. oh my god, you’d make a terrible lasagne.”
He sobers. “I’m being serious, man. Cherry is fucking dangerous and I believe her threats.”
It takes me a minute to calm myself down after what I’ve just heard coming from Jay’s mouth. He truly believes that Brynne would put his body parts into a meal, but the more I ponder onit, the more I wouldn’t put it past her. I saw her fancy as fuck kitchen. The knives, the ovens, everything you could ever need to create delicious meals.
Meals.. from men.
“All I’m saying is, be fucking careful alright? I don’t wanna have to collect you from her fridge.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his tone but I know deep down, he’s worried for me and I get it. Brynne is a literal killer but I know she’s never met anyone like me.
Giving my black shirt a quick brush down to remove the invisible dust, I slip on my jacket then go about sliding my wallet and phone into my pockets. My own reflection stares back at me from the full-length mirror in the bedroom.
I can’t remember the last time I made this much of an effort for someone. In fact, when the fuck have I ever been on a real date? A date with a living person. Not ever. Yeah I’ve had sex with breathing women but I’ve never enjoyed it. I try to avoid this shit at all costs but Brynne has me pushing all my own boundaries.
The man who stares back at me is someone that I don’t always recognise. Sure it’s me in the mirror but sometimes, it's the monster that dwells inside of me that looks back. That version of me is constantly hurting. Afraid to be vulnerable with someone else in the fear that they’ll get hurt again.
I want to look away from my reflection but I can feel the sharp claws of my past forcing my head to remain stoic. The memories pummel into me like a tidal wave, bashing through my stone walls with zero remorse.
“I.. I don’t wanna do this anymore, mummy.” I whimper in fear. Sticky trails of snot run out of my nose and gather in the crease above my top lip. I want to wipe it away but I’m too scared to move.
Mummy’s drunk again. She makes me do things that I don’t want to do and I’m scared. I’m only ten, surely my friends at school don’t have mums like this, do they?
“C’mon baby, you always make mummy so happy.” She coos but her words are jumbled, like her mouth is moving in slow motion. Her eyes look fuzzy, like they’re covered in candy floss and she sways on her bare feet.
My fingers tangle into my t-shirt. It’s my favourite one. There’s a monster truck on the front. Mummy said she’d get me a monster truck if I did as she said, but I never got one.
I take a step backwards until my back hits the bedroom door. “Please can I leave? I’ll.. be good.” I murmur but it doesn’t help. Mummy walks carefully around her bed and sits down on the end. She’s wearing an old nightie, it’s got some weird stains on and it’s full of little holes.
How did she get them?
She looks angry, why is she angry with me?
“You don’t want to make mummy upset do you? I thought you wanted to make me happy, poppet?” She shuffles about on the bed and I can feel a strange sickness in my stomach, like when you smell something really bad, as she opens her legs.
Please. Please. Please. Don’t make me do this again. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.
“Come here baby.” Her voice is soft but I know what happens when I don’t do as I’m told. She hurts me real bad but I feel like my feet are stuck to the floor. Like I’ve stood in a puddle of glue.
“No, please.” I whisper. “I don’t–”
“Kincaid! Do as you're told please and come here!” She shouts and I jump like a scared cat, then I walk towards her. With every step, I can feel my heart jumping around inside my body.
Mummy smiles. Her teeth are all yellowed and broken with a few missing at the front. “You know what to do, baby. Make me happier than your daddy ever could.”
Once again, I’m forced to do things that no little boy should ever do.
I wish mummy was dead.
Bile rises up into my throat. Sweat clings to my skin and I feel as though my own clothes are suffocating me, like I need to crawl out of my flesh. That’s the only way I’ll be able to breathe properly.
It’s been months since I’ve thought of my mother. Usually she lives in the recesses of my mind but lately, she’s started to crawl her way back out of the pit I chucked her in.
I need to get my shit together. The last thing I want is for Brynne to see me like this. I have to make her think that I’m fine, that everything about my mind is fine but I’m not ashamed to admit that it’s getting harder to do that.
Toconvincepeople that I’m fine.
Lifting up my jacket sleeve, I check the time on my watch. I’ve got twenty minutes to get to Brynne’s house. Just the thought of seeing her again eases my anxieties. She’s quickly becoming the calm to my storm, and I don’t want to lose that.
The V8 engine of my Mustang rumbles like a purring cat. It sends vibrations through the leather seats as I push my foot down onto the accelerator. My hands flex around the steering wheel, forcing the veins that sit underneath my skin to rise to the surface.
