I’m smiling inside, despite myself.
‘Are you hungry, baby?’
I’m not, but the casserole he brings up from the kitchen tastes delicious.
Shepherd looks bone-tired, his eyes shadowed. I catch his eye for a moment and I feel my heart quicken. If he tries to kiss me now, I’d sell my soul so easily for it.
‘You’re staying here tonight,’ he says, after we finish our meal.
‘Maybe it would be better for me to go back home,’ I say.
‘This is your home.’
Considering that takes me too close to tears, so I close the door on the future. No sense looking in there.
‘Just go back to my bed.’
I slowly lie back on his bed, under the warm soft pile of duvet that smells of lavender and, faintly of his heady aftershave.
He comes into the room and hands me two white pills. ‘What’re you giving me?’ I say.
‘Just something to help with the fever. Your temperature is high.’
I close my eyes for a minute, feel him place a cold pack on my forehead. In the middle of it, a familiar warm hand comes to rest on mine.
‘How are you now?’ Shepherd says. I move my hand and he takes it in his, holds it, running his thumb over my knuckles.
Our eyes lock and for a second, maybe I see a hint of remorse that Shepherd hints at in rare moments. That maybe he didn't want things to end the way they did when we were teenagers. Maybe he is sorry — somewhere in that messed-up psyche of his. Maybe he didn't want to hurt me. Maybe there was a good reason.
He looks so kind, squinting a little against the moonlight spilling in from the window, his hand so warm and comforting, that I take a chance.
‘Please, promise me,’ I say.
‘You better leave that if you don't want to make me mad.’
There is no saying sorry. There is no remorse for what he did. He is a reminder that nightmares come true.
‘We wouldn't want that, would we?’ I say. ‘You might do something really bad if you got mad.’
I shut my eyes as my heart crushes until it hurts. When I open them again, Shepherd is leaning over me with a concerned look.
‘Baby?’ he says.
‘P — ’
‘Don't say it again. I’ve been sweet as pie to you up to this moment, but you're gonna find yourself friendless real soon if you don't drop that.’ The warning is as sharp as crystal. ‘Baby, I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away from your father. Is he gonna tell me something you don’t want me to hear?’
When the monsters come out at night, some of us hide. We stay quiet in the corner, shut our eyes, and wait for it to be over.
I look deep into his moonlit eyes and for a moment I see something human there. A thing that could be wounded, could be cured.
There’s a secret sorrow trapped inside his heart. It’s where his cruelness masks his sadness.
I keep looking into his eyes until he blinks and shuts himself away. I swallow and the back of my throat is hot and dry.
Sweet as pie, he said.
I’m so tired of it all, so I say, ‘Can I have some ice cream?’
He laughs and kisses my forehead. ‘You want ice cream?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘The painkillers are kicking in,’ he chuckles.
Shepherd leaves the bedroom and returns carrying a small pink and white striped carton.
‘Lie back against the pillows, Amy.’
I obey, feeling weightless, and lose myself in lavender and something that is him.
Shepherd sits on the floor next to the bed so that he’s at eye level with me. Opening the striped carton, he offers me a spoonful of ice cream.
The ice cream is wonderfully cool and green with Matcha. I open my mouth for another bite.
‘You'll get a brain freeze,’ he chuckles darkly, but gives it to me anyway. He’s being so nice. I know I should be worried. But I’m not. My brain feels fuzzy, untrustworthy.
‘It's good,’ I say around the next mouthful. He kisses me, pressing his tongue in among the creamy green coldness. And that’s how little I can trust my brain. I kiss him back. Long, slippery cold kisses. Bite after bite, kiss him until the ice cream is gone.
‘You like that?’ he says.
‘Yeah,’ I say, and touch his thick veiny arm where it rests on the bed beside me.
After that, I suppose I sleep. I wake at some point in the dark, lying under the sheets, alone. I don’t know where I am until I try to roll over and feel the pain of my head.
Carefully, I work my way to the edge of the bed. I find the floor with my bare feet. My head still spins a little, but I can walk well enough. I take two halting steps away from the bed. I try to guess at the correct trajectory to the bathroom. After two more steps, I hear his voice close by.
‘What are you doing, Amy?’
My heart thumps violently. If he’s there in the dark for me, it only ever means one thing. I can’t stomach the thought of it. Not now, I think. I can fight my desires so soon. Especially if he isn’t going to promise.
‘I'm thirsty.’
‘Get back in bed and I'll bring you some water.’
Slowly I move backwards, feeling for the bed. I sit down to wait. His boots scuff against the floor, then he takes my hand and closes it around a cool glass. I drink eagerly and hold the glass out into the dark for him.
‘You want more?’ he says.
I shake my head and inch back on the bed, drawing the sheet over me. A
