He waggles his eyebrows. ‘Now? I’m quite sure you’ve exhausted me.’
I fake a laugh. ‘Not that. Well, that. But also, you know, meeting up. Conversing. Sharing the same oxygen. We should do it again.’
‘Monday?’
Wow. Right in there, Joshua. ‘Monday works for me.’
Get my bag. Collect up my things. Resist the urge to flinch again when Joshua kisses my neck. Make dinner plans. Say thank you for such a great evening. Kiss goodbye at the door. Sigh with relief when door closes behind me. Act happily surprised when Joshua comes and stops the lift to kiss me again. Wave and keep smiling. Get outside. Wonder how I’m going to make it through a day so hot when feeling like this. Get on stuffy but mostly-empty Tube. Look down at hands. See they are shaking. Remember the white wall. Tell myself not now. Soon, but you have to get home first. Make it to Tube stop. Get off. Get through ticket barrier. Have message on phone from Joshua when I get signal. Don’t read it. Can’t. Not now. Slog through London streets, unable to cope with other humans who dare to be on the pavement with me. Steam rising from concrete. Can’t get his face out of my head. His face afterwards. Not Joshua’s face. Ryan’s. How he slept soundly and I watched him sleep and couldn’t understand how he could sleep after doing that to me. Could it have really happened if he slept that soundly afterwards? How much it hurt. Sore. Burning. He slept all night through. By morning I’d told myself I’d imagined it. But my body didn’t forget. Couldn’t. It closed up. Clamped shut. Get to the end of my road. I’m almost there. I want to peel my skin off it itches so bad. Breathing is hard. Lungs are smaller. I gasp more than I inhale. Keys won’t go into the lock. Try again. No. Please go into the lock, why is this so hard? There. There we go. Push into the flat. Empty. Mine. Alone. Finally all alone. I can let it out now. The hiccup I’ve been holding in since I heard Ryan’s voice in my head. I’m ready to cry. I lie on the sofa. I want to let it out. But now I’m here, now I can, the tears won’t come. I feel nothing. Empty. Numb. I lie on my side with my knees up. I stare at the wall. This wall is pale pink. Megan’s mum picked it. The other wall was white at the time. With embossed wallpaper.
Can’t breathe.
He’s here. It’s hurting. I don’t know how to say stop. Why is he doing this? The tears are here. Pouring. The numbness has gone but I want it back because now it hurts too much. Too many feelings. Too strong. How am I going to live my life with these feelings that won’t ever dull, no matter how much time passes?
I hate you.
I hate you.
I HATE YOU.
I FUCKING HATE YOU RYAN SO FUCKING MUCH YOU FUCKING PRICK. YOU RUINED MY FUCKING LIFE AND NOTHING BAD HAPPENED TO YOU IN RETURN. MY LIFE IS RUINED AND I WILL NEVER BE ME AGAIN AND YET YOU GET TO CARRY ON LIVING THAT FUCKING LIFE OF YOURS YOU FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING WANKING SHITTING FUCKING WANKER MADE OF SHIT I HATE YOU. GOD I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU SO MUCH IF I COULD KILL YOU I WOULD KILL YOU. I’D MAKE IT HURT SO BAD. LIKE YOU HURT ME. FUCK YOU.
FUCK
YOU
FUCK YOU
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ANYTHING WITH ANY PART OF MY LIFE?
Crying so hard now. I can’t see for the tears. This anger. This anger is too much. It’s always too much. I have a scatter cushion in my hands. I’m pounding it against the sofa. I’m screaming. I’m screaming ‘I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU.’ I can’t stop screaming it. I hate you I hate you. Smash smash smash goes the pillow. Why can’t it be your face? Why can’t it be your fucking face? I don’t think I can stop. ‘I hate you I hate you I hate you. I HATE YOUUUUUU.’
Smash against the sofa. Crash. I don’t care if the neighbours hear. Nobody will do anything anyway. Nobody