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“What’s that?”
“I don’t know,” I mused, withdrawing the folded-up piece of paper. “It was with Gerard’s stuff when I went to grab our tickets.”
“I bet it’s a cheat sheet for GTA,” Shannon snickered, watching over my shoulder as I unfolded the a4 sheet of paper. “Both Gibs and Johnny keep cracking up because they can’t clear the missions as fast as me.”
I knew she was talking to me. I could hear her voice. But I couldn’t make out a word she was saying because my attention was riveted to the words splashed across the page in my hand.
“Oh my god,” Shannon gasped, leaning in closer to get a better look. “Is that from…”
“Caoimhe Young,” I strangled out, hands trembling violently as my mind furiously fought to protect itself from the information my eyes were sending it.
“No,” Shannon cried out, covering her mouth with her hand. “Don’t read it, Claire.”
Too late.
Gibsie,
It is to my deepest shame that I write this letter.
Words can’t express how sorry I am for the pain that my lack of belief has caused you.
I let you down. I understand that now, and if I could go back in time to that night, I promise I would take you at your word. I would protect you from him.
I have no way of making this better for you, or redeeming myself in essence because the bottom line comes down to the fact that I was supposed to protect you and didn’t.
My biggest fear of all is that you won’t believe me when I say I didn’t know. I guess that’s a hypocritical statement to make when I did the very same to you.
You told me and I didn’t listen. You were a young child who trusted his favorite babysitter enough to disclose the horrendous abuse you had been enduring at the hands of your stepbrother, and that babysitter chose to let her teenage hormones blind her.
To say that I had rose-tinted glasses on when it comes to Mark is an excuse that I won’t give you. Not you, sweet boy.
The fact of the matter is that I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to see what was happening. I had this incredible blind spot that I couldn’t see out of when it came to him.
But I saw tonight.
When I walked into your bedroom to check on you and found him pinning you to your mattress raping you, I think I died inside. Your eyes. You looked so broken. So defeated. You weren’t making a sound. Your tears were as silent as my voice, and I am so sorry for that.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with myself for allowing you to suffer like you have. I honestly don’t think I can.
I’ve written you this letter, and I want you to take it to your mam. If not your mam, then take it to Sinead Biggs across the street. All you have to do is hand over this letter, sweet boy, and I promise you he’ll get what he deserves.
(For all who read this letter, let it be known that I, Caoimhe Young, on the night of April 5th, 2000, witnessed my boyfriend, Mark Allen, raping his eleven-year-old stepbrother, Gerard Gibson, while I was supposed to be babysitting him. Let it also be known that eighteen months before witnessing this rape, Gerard Gibson disclosed to me that he didn’t feel safe around Mark, and that he touched him inappropriately. And finally, to my deepest regret, let it be known that I, Caoimhe Young, believed my boyfriend’s word over that of an innocent child.)
For my part in your pain, for my silence, I can never say sorry enough. I can only hope that my absence gives you some comfort, because while I know I wasn’t your abuser, my lack of willingness to believe your truth hurt you in ways he never could.
Goodbye, sweet boy.
Caoimhe. x
74
Fade into You
CLAIRE
“Claire, wait!” Shannon chased after me as I bolted out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and into the cold night air.
“Oh god.”
