Her smile doesn’t hide the vulnerability in her voice. ‘I hated you, Shepherd. I hated you so much for leaving me behind. I needed you when my sister nearly died and I was put inside my cage. I hated that the one person I needed the most was the one person who hurt me the most. And yet, I still needed you. You were the only person who could tell me Elizabeth would be alright and I would believe it.’
This.
This fight me and Amy had that led us up to this moment. This fucked up situation where I had to hurt the only person I gave a shit about in the whole goddamn earth sphere.
I reach my hand up, my fingers trembling for some fucking reason and I brush away the hair from Amy’s eyes.
I push the pain boiling in my chest down, and say, ‘The night I left you alone in the woods . . . ’ My voice is rough with guilt and I pause.
I fed you to the fucking hyenas. . .
‘. . . I’ve never looked in the mirror right since then. Can’t ever forgive myself for it. Kicker is, I did it to save you from me.’
I was becoming something dark.
I swallow the hard lump in my throat. ‘The graffiti on the wall — Amy, it wasn’t me.’
She looks surprised. ‘I wish you told me, Shepherd. Why didn’t you?’
‘It was too late by then, you hated my guts. In the end, that’s what I wanted so I let you believe it. The next day I hunted out the real culprit. It was one of the lads in my gang. I beat the living daylights out of him. Put him in hospital.’
‘You did?’
I’m afraid you’ll tear me apart.
‘Yeah . . . I could’ve killed him. That’s how much I loved you, Amy. I could’ve killed any guy who hurt you. The reason why I pushed you away. I was falling deeper into bad and I had nothing to give you back then. No money, no name, no future. Christ, you deserved a fucking king.’
I close my eyes, sniff. ‘I’m sorry, Amy. From the bottom of my fucking shitty heart, I’m so sorry. I should have found another way to keep you from me.’
I feel her hand on the back of mine. ‘It’s okay, Shepherd, I forgive you. I know what it’s like when darkness is your world. You lose yourself in the shadows and it’s so easy to forget who you are, who you wish to be. You were a kid and lost and hurt by the people who should have protected you. You did it to save me from the monsters. I love you and I don’t ever want to be the reason you hate yourself.’
‘I’ve been such a bastard to you, Amy. Since I got back. Lying and blackmailing. I just don’t know any other way and I fucking hate myself for it.’
‘No, please don’t think like that. You’ve been trying to take care of me. All this time. I didn’t see it.’
‘I didn’t let you see it.’ I scoff, a bitter regret. ‘I remember hearing that saying as a kid: If you love someone, set them free. So I did. I set you free. But now I know that’s bullshit. If you love someone, you hold on tight, and you never let fucking go.’
She half smiles, and I get that stranger-thing feeling again.
‘We’re one and the same — you and me,’ she says. ‘Guilt made me hide from you. My sister is broken, Shepherd, and she will always be broken. I can’t fix her. Never. And it’s my fault. I need to tell you something . . . I just hope you can forgive me. Because I can’t live with you hating me.’
I keep silent and listen to her. She spills her secrets, tells from the heart. I keep silent when she tells me about her father’s abuse on Elizabeth, and all his underage pornographic movies. I keep silent when she tells me her sister is really her mother. I keep silent when she tells me that she’s seen my mum’s face before. I keep silent when she pulls out a DVD from her bag and gives me it. And I keep silent as my mother’s sad baby face looks up at me.
‘When you showed me your mother’s photograph, I think deep down I’ve always known. I blocked it out . . . I should have told you. Shouldn’t have doubted you. I don’t doubt you.’ In a small voice she says, ‘Do you hate me?’
Amy’s sunshine in my whole fucking universe.
She’s the opposite of my destruction.
We sit in the middle of the room. We don’t speak about loss, but it’s with us in the broken room. Amy wears the sadness she shares with her sister. I look at her with my mum’s eyes. We see the dead written on each other’s faces. We don’t mean to, but we do. Even now, drawn together in the peace, we’re not alone.
Amy is consumed with torture. Her heart is cut with pain. There’s still a thousand places I haven’t gone to die, but it feels like I’m dying here with her.
I look at her hand in mine. ‘Here’s the thing, Amy. If my dad hadn’t been a sadistic bastard, if he hadn’t forced my mother’s hand to get rid of me, if I hadn’t grown up in a loveless home . . . then I wouldn’t have loved you. I went through hell, but it all led me to you, and I wouldn’t change a single damn thing. You’re worth every cut & scrape of hellfire. No regrets. No what ifs.’
There’s that certainty. No fucking hesitation. Not an instant where I look or feel unsure.
Just you and me
