Normally, I’d have kicked his ass for treating me like a pet, but coming from him, a good girl doesn’t feel so bad.
Still, equal opportunities and all.
Good boy.
I fall asleep in his T-shirt, with his laugh reaction open on my message.
SIXTEEN
LIAM
Every timeI open my chat with Kat, I can’t help but smile. Her little icon, and her name, being there are salves to my senses.
A distraction from my everyday. Not that I do much. It’s been a few weeks since my last fight, and my money is dwindling. Having her back in my life has given me something to live for. And while I’ve yet to lose a fight, when you’re fighting to the death, it only takes one slip for it to all be over.
Tell me something about twenty-two-year-old Kat. I want to know more about who you are now.
I’m at a dive bar across the street from her alley. A sticky-floored, smoke-stained hellholeeven I wouldn’t normally be seen in. Still, I can have a pint and keep an eye on her without my mask on. It’ll do.
Answer for answer.
The idea of letting her see any more of me makes me queasy. At the moment, I’m riding on being this project from her past that she pities. If she finds out who I am after four years of choice? She might not like what she sees.
What’s your favourite food?
Italian. Arancini and carbonara, done properly, none of that double cream nonsense. Do you live alone?
Of course I do. No one has ever wanted to live with me. Not unless I’m useful to them.
Yes. What do you do for fun?
Go dancing with my roommate until our feet are too sore to move. Did you find a family?
Eventually. Do you ever wish you could go back to that summer?
I glance up at the alley entrance, monitoring for any sign of the wanker who’s stalking my girl.
Every day.
I look at those two words for a long time while I wait for her question. Even knowing what I’d have to endure, I’d go back to that summer in a heartbeat. Eventually, her question comes through.
Did I make your life worse?
The question makes my chest ache.
Never. You made it survivable. Did I make yours worse?
I think about the years that passed without her. She’d been a glimmer of hope I’d held onto through so many terrible moments. Pulling up her face to block out the faces that hovered over me in the real world. The faces that screamed, or the hands that choked. Even the faces that looked at me with distaste and disgust.
No. You’ve made it more interesting. Although my window needs a good clean. When can I see you?
Ah, it’s back to that. Seeing beyond the mask. A lifetime of torture written on my skin.
I don’t know. I’m not a good man, Kat. My skin bears the marks of that. I don’t want you to see the monster I became in place of the boy you remember.
She takes a while to respond, so I take a long drink of my pint, hoping the alcohol will go some way to soothe me. I’ll only allow myself two. Anything more may affect my ability to protect her.
Perfection is sorely overrated. Has no one ever told you that women like scars?
