‘Why areyousorry?’
‘Because none of this would be happening if I hadn’t fucked up.’
Lachlan stops him gently without ever touching him.‘Jules,’ he says seriously.‘This isn’t your fault.’
Jules still won’t look at him.‘Next time just wait outside.’
‘That’s not my job.’
‘These people are inhuman.They do whatever they like.’
‘And that’s notyourfault.’
‘Yes, it is.’
Jules is pressing his inner wrist, eyes closed.He’s just a kid.
A frustrated kid, trapped and controlled, reaching for anything that might distract from the invisible compactor steadily crushing him towards adulthood.
‘No, you’re all good,’ Lachlan tells him.‘I promise.’
‘If I wasgood, this wouldn’t—’
‘Listen to me,’ Lachlan cuts over, can see the spiral building from a mile away.‘When I was seventeen, I killed my father.’Jules’ eyes fly wide open.‘I didn’t mean to kill him, but I didn’t take care not to.’
‘Why did you kill him?’Jules asks, raptly engaged.
Lachlan always feels sad whenever he thinks of the reason, not because it inspires pathos or empathy but just because the worst things that have ever happened to him resonate likesadness;soft and melancholy, he wishes they had not happened.
‘I wanted it to stop.’
Jules is like a mirror for all the sadness Lachlan feels inside, so expressive, helplessly rippled by feelings, like water beneath wind.‘You were seventeen?’
Lachlan nods.‘Meeting you has made me realise something that never occurred to me before.’
‘What?’
‘That I was a child.’
Jules’ brow creases.‘I’ve never felt like a child.’
‘But you are,and children make mistakes.You didn’t do any of this.It’s not your fault,’ Lachlan promises fiercely.‘And if that had gone a different way—’
‘I wouldn’t have let it.’
‘If ithadgone a different way, that wouldn’t be your fault either.I’m an adult.You don’t need to protect me.’
‘Did anyone?’
‘What?’
‘Did anyone ever protect you, Lachlan?’
He thinks about it for a moment.‘I became what I needed.’
‘That’s so sad.’
‘Not if I can protect you.’
