Through your shirt you feel scrawny, all bones. I’m not scared like I thought I’d be. I feel more alive, more real than ever. This feels good. It feels right. In the trees you start mumbling about needing to get somewhere, about being late. You’re avoiding eye contact as you pull away from me, but it’s only when we’re deeper in among the trees that you really start to struggle.
‘What is this?’ you hiss.
That’s when I show you the knife. You reel backwards, but I’m still gripping you hard.
‘Don’t struggle,’ I say.
Your eyes are spinning, looking everywhere but at me. I can feel you shaking, like me, as I clasp my hand to your back, steering you to the exit. How dare you be so wasted and useless after all these years I’ve waited?
‘You’re pathetic,’ I mutter.
I want to say it louder, shout at you until you are cowering beneath me. But shouting at you isn’t enough. I drag you through the trees and back towards the exit to my car, keeping a tight hold on your waist. I can’t let go, not like I did when I was sixteen years old. Not when, this time, I can do things my way. I push you through the park gates and up the main road. Your eyes flicker and start to focus on me. Surely, out of all the people who’ve looked at me over the last ten years, it is you who will finally see me: the Gemma behind the Kate. I wait, clasping you, letting you look.
My name.
This is the moment where things turn out alright: your redemption, our release. We’ll talk and you’ll understand. We’ll go back to the ocean-sized bed in my hotel room, and things will be okay. You’ll even explain about the girl—that you weren’t going to do it again, not with her, or anyone. I loosen my grip, wait. When your lips part, as if to speak, I almost smile, ready. Then your head turns back towards the road, and you run.
You run?
I’m so shocked I just stare after you for a few seconds. Then I lower the knife, tuck it away. This isn’t how it was meant to go. I run down the main road after you. And luck is on my side: you head down the side street where my car is parked, and this is a dead end. As you realise and turn back, you see me, and thistime you meet my gaze. But there’s no relief in your expression, no love. Only fear.
You hold your arms out, a buffer between us, as you look over my shoulder. You’ll try to dodge around me, overpower me, throw me to the ground and make your escape. I’m a couple of metres away now, the knife again held out in front of me.
‘Hello, Ty,’ I say.
Your staring eyes seem as large as planets as you blunder backwards a couple of steps. Surely, you can’t still think there’s a way out?
‘You were stalking her, weren’t you?’
When you don’t answer, I jam you up against a brick wall, the firm muscles I’ve made from swimming holding you there. There’s a thud as I push you back. Your head? Your eyes flick back to mine. I feel the heat coming off your skin; I hear your breathing.
Bite me, just go on and sink your teeth in.This is what I want to say.Bite me, and I’ll bite you back.
You push me. I stumble, but reach for the knife again and hold it close to your face. Is this how it’s going to end? Me killing you right here? I could say you followed me and that it was self-defence. You did bad things—you were about to do them again.
‘I saw you,’ I say.
You look over my shoulder as if you’re still thinking of making a run for it.
‘You were going to take her.’
I feel the anger inside me like a spreading fire. I lean closer, so close I smell your staleness, your sweat. Since when did you smell like this? Since when did you start to look so old? I twist the knife and cut you beneath your jaw, enough to make youstill again. You hardly flinch as you stare at me.
‘Don’t do it,’ you whisper.
I wait for you to say it.My name.I want to shake you until you do. I want to dig the knife in to force the word out. I want you to stop thinking about the schoolgirl in the park and the woman in that house, and just think about me.Remember.
‘I’ll go to the cops,’ I say. ‘I’ll tell them what I saw, that you were going to do it all again.’
I’m not wary of you anymore; all my fear is gone. But what is left? Anger? And something else fierce. It snakes through my veins, firing me up, filling me with hatred. I wasn’t expecting this. I thought I just wanted to talk, just wanted you to understand. One more night together to make things right, find what was lost.
But now I want you to pay.
I thrust my face up closer. ‘Apologise.’
I’m so close I could kiss you. Bite you. You could fall on your knees and beg for forgiveness. You should do all this, and more. My heart is a storm as I try to keep steady.
But your scar looks the same.