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“I’m going to get you into the bathroom, okay?”
She nods slowly so I wrap my arms around her back and lift her up and even though I feel weak from the absence of food in my body, I manage to get her into the bathroom and fill the bathtub with scalding hot water before getting her into it.
It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, so I gather her dirty slip dress in my hands and pull it over her head, before discarding it on the floor beside me.
Looking after my mother is like tending to a five-year-old child. I wash her black hair out with soap, gently rubbing her scalp and washing it out until all the weeks’ worth of grime is almost thoroughly rinsed off.
When I’m done with her hair, I use an old plastic bowl to ladle water in it, before pouring it over her back and attempting to bring some heat back into her body.
My mother sits in the water, her eyes drawn half-shut and her face hollow with sadness. I allow her to soak in the water until it begins to get cold.
I grab the towel from behind the door and help her out of the bathtub, before getting her back into the room. Besides the heroin slowly eating away at Mother’s sanity and her body, the lack of food in our house certainly makes things even worse for her. I could still manage. I still have enough body fat on me, and I still have a fighting chance, but Mother looks like she’ll be on death’s bed any day now and it’ll be my fault if I can’t help her. I’m all she has left.
I help her get dressed into a long yellow sundress and force her into bed and under the covers. It’s the only decent piece of clothing she has left.
Now I have to figure out what to do for food.
I head out back into the living room and grab my blue and grey tweed jacket before heading outside.
Hemlock Hollows is a shithole no one would ever want to end up in. The streets are covered with a thick layer of snow and the air is cold as fuck. My stomach growls again and I can feel that gnawing ache grow inside of me. Everyone keeps to themselves. Every man is for himself. It’s the feral, old country out here and you have to watch your every move.
Reaching into my pocket, I count how much money I have left and it’s only ten pounds. So I head into town on foot because it’s not that far and when I find the nearest bakery, I buy one Cornish pasty. I’m left with six pounds and even though all the food around me looks and smells like heaven, I cannot afford to use any more money until I know what I’m doing next.
Taking the Cornish all wrapped up with me, I head back to our small home and find Mother still in bed. I crouch down beside her and unwrap the pasty, before placing it into her trembling hands.
And then I back up into the shadows and sit on the cold wooden floor, watching as she devours the entire thing in minutes. I don’t blame her, because I cannot help but feel sorry for her in this shit situation that we are stuck in.
My sister gets to stay in that fucking manor every night and she never goes without food. I often wonder if she thinks about us or what we’re going through. But when you’re living a good life, why would you care for people that are beneath you? She wouldn’t care. She probably doesn’t. It’s been years. Her father doesn’t have an issue sending a letter once every year to talk about how wonderful their lives are. How his precious fucking princess is thriving now that the trash is out. I hate them both so fucking much. Not once have I ever doubted my sanity, but these past few months have been trying and I slowly feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m losing my grip on things. On what’s right and what’s wrong. They’re all just utterances to me now. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pull out a small picture. It’s her. Pi. Her black inky hair flowing and glossy in the picture. Her facial expression is stoic but beautiful. My heart beats a little faster every time I look at the picture and it makes my anger go away. It reminds me that I cannot ever hate my twin. She’s been my first love since I even knew what the word love was. And she’ll be my last love I decide and tuck the picture back into my pocket before I drift off to sleep again. I could never not love her.
20
RHYS: CHAPTER XX
Now
My eyes snap open and I come crashing back to earth. It takes a long minute for me to realise that I’m okay and in her room. I’m not back in Hemlock and that was nothing but a dream, a memory that I wanted to disappear.
I look over at Pi. She’s sleeping on her back, with her arms spread up above her head and the fear in my head is replaced with something else.Need.
After last night, I told myself, I’d pace this situation going on between Pi and I. But now that I’m looking at her naked beside me, I can’t prevent the rush that travels straight to my cock.
I move my hands underneath the sheets and search until I touch the cool skin of her abdomen. And then I gently work my way up and stop when I’m slightly touching her left nipple. I brush my fingertips across the soft bud while watching her face very carefully.
Pi stirs and her pretty grey eyes flutter open.
“Rhys,” she whispers and I never thought I’d ever like hearing my name on someone else’s lips so much, but when Pi says it, it makes me feel strange things I hadn’t felt in forever.
She’s the only human being in this world that I would worship. My heart belongs to only her.
I can’t deny that I still feel like an arsehole after everything I’ve done. The fact that I can not take it back hurts me even more.
She sits up a little, letting the sheet fall off her chest and exposing my hand that’s covering her breast. Pi looks down at my hand and then up at me and I swallow hard, feeling a little nervous now that we’re shrouded in darkness anymore, but weak, grey morning light.
“I’ll never stop being sorry,” I tell her as I caress her pale breast and brush my thumb against her rosy nipple which stiffens instantaneously.
A faint smile crosses her full lips. “Make it up to me, Rhys. You don’t have to be sorry forever.”
“How do I make it up to you?” I ask, lacing my fingers through hers. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
