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“Good on you, kid,” he tells him, bringing him in for an embrace warmer than I ever got from him “You make sure you take good care of her for me.”

“Of course, Mr Stones.”

“Call me Dad” he tells Dan, and I am just bursting with so much pride and joy. I’m so excited to finally start my adult life. Dan’s going to take such good care of me I just know he is. He is the kindest, most fun, most considerate person I’ve ever met.

He’s my whole world, now. And I love him so much. I can’t wait to spend our lives together. It’s only up from here.

Thirty Six

Sawyer

“Babe… talk to me… what’s going on?” Nik’s voice brings me round from my daydream. We’re bouncing our way back, sat in the van. He brings me in for the tightest hug I’ve ever felt, and I sob. Uncontrollable, body shaking sobs. My whole world has just fallen away. Every memory of both of them won’t stop replaying. The good ones first. Then the harder ones.

Finally the unbearably painful ones flood through. Things I thought I’d forgotten.

I had locked myself away, chained my inner child so tightly that I had not felt any of it. I fumble with my sleeves, and feel the hem of my nightie. My skin burns remembering the depths of shame. I smell the old whisky. I hear my mum’s cries and his scornful words. The world spins around me as twenty-five years of hurt spill from every orifice and pore, engulfing me in the righteous fires of fury, and the ice cold waves of grief for the life I should have had.

Their voices haunt me, they echo in my mind taunting me. Their images etched into my mind’s eye, I replay the best and worst moments of our shared lives.

Treading so carefully, but sincerely trying to help. “Is this about ‘Daddy’?”

I nod in his chest, wiping my nose on his top. He doesn’t let go. He just lets me cry. Eventually the van comes to a stop, everyone disembarks. We stay. I wear Nik like a backpack, crying into my knees. The tears just won’t stop.

Every muscle in my body screams for rest, as the emotional and physical fatigue of the day refuses to leave my body. Full of tension, yet completely exhausted. With nothing left to give, and a mind that may never relax enough to sleep again.

And I can’t let Nik leave me. Not now, not ever.

The opposite side of the van knocks, and the door slides open. Liska’s hushed voice talks to Nik, her hand strokes my shin, trying to offer some comfort. She kisses my forearm before she leaves, and Nik hands me Reddy. That starts me off again. I just can’t get past the grief, the loss of everyone. There’s nobody left now. First my Dad, then my Mum, now Dan and Daddy.

Once I can breathe properly, Nik hands me a joint, I smoke enough to calm down a bit, and until my throat is hoarse and dry I spill everything to Nik. Who just listens, he hears it all. I know he understands.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t tell you… before,” I say between sobs and wiping my nose on my sleeve. He throws the nub of my spliff out of the van, pulls me upright, and grips my face in his big hands.

“You don’t ever have to apologise to me for what other people did to you. And you definitely don’t have to apologise for waiting until you were ready. Now, my therapist says…”

He’s got a fucking therapist?

“You’ve got a fucking therapist?” I blurt out.

“Wait, why is that so hard to believe?”

“Maybe all the murder and that?”

“And you’ve not noticed my zen-like state? Anyway it started when I got back from Afghan, I had real anger issues…”

“Had?!” I can’t help it. This interlude into ridiculousness catches me. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of this serial killer having a fucking therapist. I laugh until my ribs feel like they’re going to break. I catch my breath

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, therapy is good.” I get my composure back.

“Anyway my therapist…” he starts. I snort. He raises an eyebrow. I stifle myself so he can continue “says drink and drugs are terrible answers to emotional stress… but I reckon there’s a whole clubhouse in there full of people that are every bit as fucked up as we are… so for one night only, shall we just get fucked up?”

I nod and let him lead me in. Liska is waiting outside the clubhouse for us, a couple of beers in one hand, and a pack of wet wipes for me in the other.

Before we enter she gives me a tight hug, and kisses me on the cheek. “Way to commit, baby girl. Proud of you.”

Maybe I’m home.

Thirty Seven