APRIL 21, 1995
“THANK YOU FOR INVITING ME TO YOUR HOUSE,” SHANNON SAID IN A QUIET VOICE from the back seat of Claire’s dad’s car on Friday after school. “I’m really grateful.”
“That’s okay, Shan.” Claire squeezed her hand. “I’m so happy you’re coming over.” She leaned over Shannon to pat my knee. “You, too, Liz.”
I smiled back at them but didn’t respond because I was so tired. Everything felt heavy on my shoulders and the scary lady was extra loud in my head today.
I had felt it coming for a while now.
My happiness kept getting lower, and lower, and lower until it hit the bottom.
Now, everything was dark and sad.
I wasn’t even cross.
I just felt empty.
Trying to distract myself, I peered at Claire’s parents. Her dad was driving, and her mam was in the passenger seat. He was holding her hand and sometimes he would pick it up and kiss it.
“Rock ’n’ Roll Kids” was playing on the radio, and I knew all the words because Ireland had won the Eurovision Song Contest with it earlier this year.
I couldn’t get myself to care, though.
It didn’t matter if I knew the words or not. It didn’t matter if the girls talked to me or not. Nothing mattered to me. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep.
When we got to Claire’s house, I trailed after my friends and tried my best to keep up with their conversations, but it was exhausting.
The scary lady kept whispering in my head.
Her claws were pushing me under the water.
It felt like my head was underwater and I could see her, but it was blurry and faded.
I was too tired to fight her back in my head.
She was sitting on my shoulder now, but they couldn’t see her.
When I told the girls I needed to use the bathroom, it was a lie. I didn’t need to go. I just needed to go. Climbing into the tub, I curled up in a ball and covered my head.
“Be a good girl and open your mouth.”
Get out.
“If you bite me, I’ll kill her. Do you want that?”
Get out.
“That’s it. You like that, don’t you?”
Get out!
“Stop crying. I can feel you enjoying it.”
Please get out of my head.
“Fuck me, you’re getting so good at that.”
Stop hurting me!
“That’s it. It’s not so bad, is it?”
No!
“Clean yourself up.”
Please make it stop!
“That’s your fault, not mine…”
I didn’t hear the bathroom door open and close, but I did hear Hugh’s voice when he shouted, “Liz? Are you okay?”
Forcing myself to sit up, I lifted my head to look at him. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Crouching down next to the tub, Hugh rested his elbows on the rim and stared at me. “What are you doing in the bath?”
“Resting,” I whispered, too numb to feel embarrassed. “I’m tired.”
“Are you sick?” Reaching out, he pressed his palm to my forehead and frowned. “You’re not warm.”
“Don’t,” I begged when he moved his hand. Shivering, I snatched it back up and held it to my cheek. “I can feel you.”
“Yeah, well, I would hope so,” he offered, giving me a rueful smile. “I am touching your face.”
“No, I can feel you,” I squeezed out, trying to make him understand. “I can feel me when I feel you.”
He didn’t say anything to that, but he didn’t pull his hand away, either. Instead, he knelt beside me and kept his hand on my cheek.
“Listen, I’m doing homework in my room, but you can come with me and sleep in my bed if you want?” he offered after a long silence. “Claire and Shannon are out back in the treehouse, so they won’t mind.”
“You can sleep in my bed…”
I knew what that meant.
But it was okay.
Because I loved Hugh Biggs.
My heart was sure I did.
And Hugh would never hurt me like he did.
Nodding, I took the hand he offered me and climbed out of the tub. Keeping a firm hold of his hand, I soaked in the warmth as he led me into his room.
It would be okay.
Because he was kind.
He wouldn’t make me cry.
He wouldn’t make me bleed.
“You can rest here,” Hugh said in a gentle voice, stopping in front of a big double bed. “It’s comfier than the tub.”
Climbing onto the mattress, I rolled onto my back and settled into the familiar position, arms at my sides and legs open, waiting for this boy to do what Mark told me all boys did.
Except he didn’t.
Instead of taking off my clothes, Hugh covered me with a blanket and stepped away.
Confused, I turned my head to watch him sit cross-legged in front of a stack of schoolbooks on his bedroom floor.
Pulling up on my elbows, I peered down at him, not understanding any of this.
Was I bad?
Did I do something wrong?
Was he cross with me?
He didn’t sound cross.
In fact, he was humming a song under his breath while he scribbled in his copybook. I knew the song. It was the one playing on his Walkman the first day we met—“Send Me on My Way” by Rusted Root.
My heart slammed hard against my rib cage then, and with it came a flood of emotion. Feelings: they bombarded my heart, rushing through me like a river.
I was feeling.
I could feel again.
I didn’t have to scream to make the lady go away, either.
She disappeared when he found me in the tub.
She was afraid of Hugh.
Because he was good.
Because he was brave.
A brave knight.
A wave of relief washed over me, and I gripped the blanket draped over me, allowing my heavy eyelids to close.
Mark didn’t fix me this time.
Hugh did.
And he didn’t have to hurt me to do it…
