‘Because I do. Because when our Kieron told me he was gay, I couldn’t have loved him more.’ I put my arm around the boy and pulled him to me, rocked him gently, slowly. ‘And in my darkest moments, the fact that I was there and that I was what he needed me to be that day is the only thing that keeps me tethered to this earth.’
His head had fallen onto my shoulder. I kissed his hair, felt the full weight of him in my arms. I felt his jacket fall open, the pressure of his borrowed T-shirt against the tip of the knife. I felt the skin yield, felt the blade slice through. The sickening shock when it sank between his ribs. The warm slick of his lifeblood on my hand. He didn’t move. His brain had not yet caught on to what his body knew. I pulled the knife out and pressed it in again – it was easier this time, holding him to me, holding him tight.
‘Shh,’ I whispered. ‘You’re all right, my love. I’ve got you.’
His warmth infused me. Our skin dissolved. He was of me and I was of him. Drops into water. One body, one whole. His pulse beat like a timepiece, counting down seconds. Seconds, minutes, hours that chime. All the hours, all the never-ending hours. I felt myself go as he went. My vision clouded, blackened. Tiredness rolled in, unfathomable, unstoppable. We were sinking. We were part of the same. We were one, one body of water.
‘Shh now, my darling boy.’ I cradled his soft head in my hand. ‘My darling, darling boy. I’m here with you. Be still now, my love. Everything will be all right. I’m here; I’ll always be here with you. Let go now, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, my love, my darling boy.’
He was silent. He was still. He was heavy. The white moon flashed in the black pond. I held him to me. I felt him go.
I lowered my lips to his ear and whispered, ‘Sleep now, my angel.’
44
Rachel
Blue Eyes is looking at me, and it seems to me she’s been looking at me for months.
‘He died in your arms?’ she says. ‘You’re saying you killed Ian Brown and he died in your arms?’
I nod. ‘I comforted him in his last moments.’
‘And you didn’t remember any of that when you got home?’
‘None of it. I’ve no memory of walking home. I know that when I got there, Anne-Marie had already returned to the forefront of my mind because I didn’t know about Ian yet, do you see? I was thinking of Kieron too, maybe because of Ian. Kieron was with me very strongly, not that he ever leaves me. But no, everything I’ve just told you came to me the next day, when I read the news.’
‘So what did you do when you got home?’
‘I put Ian’s clothes in the washing machine ready to put on to wash the next morning. I made myself a hot drink. Just hot water, actually – it was all I could face. The cider and lager had made me feel queasy; I couldn’t handle it like I used to. I… checked Kieron’s Facebook page, had a trawl through some of his photos. It was too late to message him, so I went upstairs, and that’s when I checked my rucksack.’
‘And found the bloodstained tissues.’
‘It’s a loop, don’t you see? Bloody tissues found and found again. A knife in a bag. Memory and life. Life and memory. Loneliness to love, anger to hate to death, to anger to hate and so on. Round and round, never stopping, the world was filling up with it.’
‘That’s what you were thinking?’
‘I was thinking… I was thinking that no matter how much love I had to give, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.’ I wipe at my eyes. The box says extra-soft but the tissue doesn’t feel soft; it scratches. ‘I was thinking that hate is turned on people who don’t deserve it, who aren’t responsible for the anger, who have nothing to do with the hate, not really, do you see?’
‘Yes. I see. And the next morning?’
‘The next morning, I stared at the second hand on the kitchen clock and tried to put myself under, like, to dive down, down, down and remember something.’
‘You tried to hypnotise yourself?’
I nod. ‘But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t feel Anne-Marie’s car