After dinner, the evening resumed as normal, well, except I’m not climbing into the back of Theresa’s car and dreading the final destination. She called my dad after we had eaten, telling him Jules and I had a school project due, and we needed to finish it. She assured him that she would drop us both off at school in the morning, and it was no bother for me to stay over. He must have agreed, because here I am, in my pyjamas, staring up at the ceiling from the top bunk.
“You asleep?” Jules’ voice drifts up from below
“Nope.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” I joke, trying to avoid what I know he’s desperate for me to confirm.
“Okay, that’s fair. Something else…” I throw my arm over my eyes. I know he can’t see me from down there, but it makes me feel less exposed, somehow.
Tonight was a disaster. I never wanted Jules to see me that way. I’mhisprotector. Tonight, though, he saw the ugly side of me. The side I reserve for the solitude and darkness of my bedroom, where the shadows hide my tears, and the silence swallows my desperate cries. Being away from home brings a sense of safety, but in the same breath, it fills me with an undeniable dread.What will I return to?
“If you need anything, you will ask me, right?” It doesn’t feel right to agree to what he’s asking. Although it seems more like a silent offer than a request. It’s his way of supporting without overstepping, and for that, I’m grateful. Just as I know his Mom has her suspicions about my behaviour, she’s been sensitive enough not to question me about it. I know there will come a time when she asks what triggered the episode, but for tonight, they’ve simply given me safety and space.
“Yeah, of course,” I don’t know how I managed to hide the wobble in my voice, but if he noticed, he didn't say anything. I’ve come to learn I’m capable of a lot when it comes to protecting Jules’ innocence.
As promised, Theresa dropped us off at school the next morning. The day went by painfully slowly. I just wanted to go home, which is something I never thought I’d say. It’s a strange place to be; conflicting feelings of wanting to be as far away from the man who causes me so much turmoil, wars with the side of my brain telling me I need to be around him, gauge what moodhe’s in, and just get it over with. The longer I’m away, the worse the anxiety gets. I know there’s nothing good waiting for me at home, but the unease of not knowing how bad it’s going to be has me racing there once the final bell rings out. I don’t even wait for Jules today. If he sees me, he won’t let me go back.
A large part of me wants him to beg me to return home with him, to accept his kindness and spend the evening forgetting that part of my life exists. But that’s all it would be; a game of make-believe, more fuel to add to my anxiety for the following day.
Be brave.I find myself drawing the courage I need from the thought of Jules. I find my fight in his freedom, take comfort in his innocence, and find my promise for tomorrow in his friendship.
The door creaks as I push it open. The curtains are already drawn; lint dances in the light seeping through cracks. The air is heavy and polluted with the smell of B.O and stale food.
“D-dad?” I call out, cautious not to be too loud. If he’s sleeping, the last thing I want to do is wake him. If I can just make it to the stairs and into my bedroom, I’m safe. His pattern of behaviour is predictable most of the time. Punishments are only doled out when he feels justified. If I can make it past the living room door and up the stairs, he will have missed his opportunity to reprimand me for the events of the night before.
Whilst nothing happened–that he knows of–his mind works in mysterious ways. His evening will have looked a lot like a pity-party for one, and a constant loop of all the things Icould havebeen doing.
My foot lands on the bottom step as my fingers wrap around the handrail.Slow and steady,I tell myself. I’m fighting the urge to rush the stairs; to fly up two at a time, with no care for the sound, and bolster myself against the door. He never enters my room; it’s like there’s an invisible ward built into the frame, to keep danger on the opposite side.
Another step.
I can feel my stomach grumbling under my shirt– a consequence of skipping lunch. Nourishment replaced by adrenaline; an all-too-familiar occurrence. From my position on the stairs, I can see the kitchen. Pizza boxes and beer cans litter the countertops, but I’ll go hungry tonight, it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.
Another step.
I stand still. Listening for any signs of life from the room next to me. Nothing.
Another step.
And another.
And another.
I allow myself a little bit of hope, praying it will carry my shaky legs the rest of the way.
“Got somewhere to be, boy?”
My heart stops. Dread wraps itself around the fragile organ, dragging it down to the pit of my stomach. I stand frozen to the spot, the silence hanging in the air, mocking my efforts with its unbearable volume. I can feel the familiar sting of tears prick my eyes.
I will not cry.
I look up to the ceiling, willing the tears and my mind to clear. I beg whatever greater power is out there to take away this all-consuming fear, to rid him of his power over me. But more than anything, I ask for Jules. I ask for him to be with my broken mind, to give me the strength to see it through.
Chapter Five
Jules
