I took his taste of tobacco and man. I took his eager tongue, sliding along mine in a language just for the two of us. I took his raw power and rough manner because I loved the way his wild hands felt running through my hair. I loved the feel of his teeth on my lips and loved wearing his marks of possession so proudly. I took his sultry groans that mingled with my own, all under that clear blue sky outside a psychiatric clinic. An unusual place to indulge in one’s passion, maybe, but we didn’t care about the outside world because we were living in a Neverland of our own, messy and mythic.
And it was our place.
I would stand beside him forever.
Beside the boy whom no one trusted.
The one the world had backed into a corner.
I would wrap my arms around his fears.
I would make him indestructible.
I would give him a love that was mute but nevertheless knew how to speak to him.
I wouldn’t seek to change him, only love him.
I would show him that there were other horizons, and he could look to them with his own eyes.
He’d always thought of me as his Tinkerbell, and so I would follow along with him…
Beyond all limits.
11
“What would our lives be like if we were always surrounded by the gloomiest darkness?”
Selene
Colors…
I was firmly convinced that colors could meld with a human being, lending meaning to the world around them and making humans less sad.
What kind of life would a colorless one be?
What would our lives be like if we were always surrounded by the gloomiest darkness?
I watched my mother as she painted one of her vases.
She was outlining the petals of a rose with meticulous care, occasionally pausing to dip the fine tip of her brush in red paint.
“I hope I’m not screwing this up,” she grumbled under her breath because it was not easy to paint realistic-looking flowers. They seemed like they’d be easy enough to reproduce, but that was not at all the case. Getting all the soft shapes and brilliant hues just right required a lot of focus, especially if one wanted to replicate their natural charm.
“You never screw it up, Mom,” I said, peering down at her painting. She really was very good, just too modest to admit it.
“How was Bailey’s? Did you two enjoy yourselves?” she asked suddenly, not looking at me, and I stiffened. I’d been back in Detroit for two days, andI hadn’t heard a thing from Neil since the day he took me to the clinic. I had sent him a couple of texts, but he hadn’t responded.
I’d thought about calling him, but I resisted the urge because I was hoping he would reach out to me.
“It was good. I needed some friend time. We had lots of fun. We did some school stuff, watched a horror movie, and ate way too much junk food,” I told her, forcing a smile. My mother had an uncanny ability to determine whether or not I was lying just by my intonation alone, so I hoped I was able to sound convincing enough to avoid an argument. I’d dodged the subject of Bailey several times already since I’d gotten back, and Mom, busy with her work at the university, hadn’t pursued the matter. Now, though, she was apparently ready to bring it up again.
“Hmm…” she murmured thoughtfully as she drew in the veins on a petal. “That’s funny. I ran into Bailey’s mom at the grocery store yesterday, and she told me she hasn’t seen you in months.”
My blood ran cold.
My mother abruptly stopped painting and raised her head to look directly at me.
I had been transformed into a wax statue. Except maybe paler.
