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I could feel his hot breath on my neck.
It repulsed me.
It made my skin crawl.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I reached behind my back and quickly unhooked my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders before pushing my knickers down my legs and stepping out of them.
Grabbing my dressing gown off the back of my wardrobe door, I slipped it on and bolted for the bathroom, determined to wash the feel of that man off my skin.
45
The Eleventh Hour
JOEY
All the way back to Molloy’s house, I fought an internal war inside of my body, where two parts of my mind battled it out for dominion over me. On one side there was the demon that lived just beneath the surface, that horrible fucking voice that controlled every impulse, urge, and reaction I’d ever had.
It was the one that assured me that my life had indeed gone to shit, without any chance of recourse, and if the only relief I found came in the form of narcotics, then so be it. Because I’d done enough, fought enough, tried hard enough for everyone else.
I’d paid my goddamn dues, taken enough shit to earn my rite of passage. I wasn’t hurting anyone, not really, and if I was careful this time, I could control my urges instead of letting my urges control me.
On the other side, all by its lonesome and looking less appealing by the second, was my conscience. Crippling me with flashes of memories and images of the past, it urged me to step back and think about what I was doing.
No good will come of this, my conscience urged. You’ll break her heart all over again. Remember last time? Remember her face?
Your father already broke her, and you gave him the access, the demon hissed, do you want to sit with the visual of him spreading her legs open like a brood fucking mare, or do you want to forget everything bad you’ve ever seen, felt, and experienced? Because your conscience won’t do that for you. You know what will work, though. You can make it all go away. You don’t have to suffer like this.
“I want to forget,” I strangled out, chest heaving, as I pulled up outside Molloy’s house and killed the engine. “I need to forget.”
Locking her car, I let myself into her garden and walked over to the front door to push the keys through the letter box. I turned around to walk away, but stalled, unable to get my feet to cooperate.
Don’t do this. My conscience reared its unwelcome head. All you have to do is just keep trying—one hour at a time, remember? You’ve got this.
Exhaling a frustrated breath I took two steps toward the gate, before muttering out a string of curses and veering off in the direction of their garden shed.
Bad idea.
Bad idea.
Bad idea.
Hoisting myself onto the roof of the shed, I took a running jump at the side of the house, catching ahold of the ledge with a familiarity that should have concerned me. Using all of my upper body strength, and ignoring the burn in my torn knuckles, I quickly pulled myself up onto Molloy’s windowsill and climbed inside her open window.
Her bedroom was empty when I stepped inside, so I walked over to her bed and sat down, needing to stay very much inside of this room and out of trouble. This room, and the girl who it belonged to, had become my safety net. My safe place.
Several minutes ticked by before her bedroom door finally opened inward and she appeared, bundled up in a fluffy white towel.
The minute her eyes landed on mine, I saw the temporary fear, the momentary flash of horror, because it was like she said: I reminded her of him.
“I know that you want space.” Standing slowly, I held my palms up and backed over to the window, giving her as much space as I could to put her at ease. “I heard you.”
Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from the sheer weight of crying, and her cute little button nose was red from sniffling. Tightening her hold on the front of her towel, she walked over to her bed and sat down, keeping her eyes trained on mine.
The fear was gone now, replaced with the usual affectionate familiarity I saw when she looked at me, but the fact that it had existed in the first place troubled me more deeply than I could ever explain.
“But?” she whispered, crossing one long leg over the other.
I shrugged helplessly. “How could I not come back?”
