Page 48 of Cuts Like an Angel: Part 2

“Okay,” Carly said, hands raised, stepping back from him to give him some space. “We’ll go back to my place. Is that okay?”

“You can’t. It’s not ethical.”

“Neither is me being here, Josh. I should have called the police so they could get you to the hospital.” She must have seen the horror on his face, because she added,” But I didn’t. I knew that if that happened, you’d never trust me again. I need you to trust me, okay.”

“I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anybody.”

“You’re bigger than me, Josh. If you want to leave, you can. I’m a whole five feet and two inches. You’re what? Six-one?”

“Six.” He made his way to his feet.

“Right. I can't stop you if you wanted to leave. You know that. So let’s say we go back to my place, get you dry, clean up that arm and see about Rosie. Okay?”

“I need to charge my phone.”

“You can do that at my house. It’s not far” She tucked herself under his arm when he swayed.

“I can walk,” he mumbled, leaning on her as she directed him.

Twenty minutes later they were pulling up at Carly’s house. A nice little semi in one of those new estates. Made it look like something where they would set suburbanised murders. She let William in, locking the door, but he noted the keys she hung on the large hanger next to it. The house smelt warm, friendly. Maybe that was why Rosie was leaving … his house wasn’t right for her. It was a monster. Stunk with Maria’s shit ... and his.

“Come into the kitchen. We’ll get you sorted.” She was ahead of him, calling over her shoulder. “You sit there,” she said, pulling out a stool to her kitchen bar. “I’m gonna run up and get some clothes. I think my brother is the same height as you. I might have some things that fit.”

“It’s not...”

“It’s fine. I promise.” She offered him a warm smile. The kind she always gave when he saw her for their appointments—the one that calmed him and let him know he could do anything … say anything. He sat himself down, even though his mind told him to leave, but there was nowhere for him to go. He couldn’t go home. He wasn’t ready to face the thank you, fuck you note that Rosie would have left—he could go to the hospital and sit with Maria who wouldn’t give a fuck about him. In fact, she’d be pleased to tell him she was right about Rosie and that he was only safe with her. If she woke.

“Try these,” Carly said, coming back from upstairs. “It’s just some jogging pants and hoodie, but it is better than what you're wearing, dry at least.

He eyed them briefly, struggling to make his arm work as he reached for them. “Thank you.”

“I’ll give you a moment to get changed.”

She pulled the kitchen door, not closing it though. Probably was worried about leaving him in a room with all the knives. How would she explain that away? He slipped off his jeans and his underwear and pulled on the jogging pants. “Okay,” he said, when he was done. “I didn’t put the hoodie on yet,” he said explaining why he was standing half naked in her kitchen. “I didn’t want to get blood on it.”

Carly’s eyes instantly went to his chest, roving over him, that look in her gaze … the one people gave when around him. He wanted to turn, cover himself up. Could no one look at him and just see William? Could no one see beyond the superficial shit?

“I …” Carly cleared her throat. William was still shivering. “Should we head to the lounge? I’ll light the fire, warm you up?”

* * *

In Carly’s lounge, he sat on the sofa, and she sat on a small stool in front of him so that she could clean his arm up. She washed it, rinsing away the salty water and the sand that he had picked up. “A couple of these could do with stitches,” she said, as she applied dressings—paper stitches she kept for those freaky William emergencies—across them to hold the skin in place.

“They’ll heal,” he sighed. “They always do.”

The cuts on his arms from the night before were red and raw from the coldness of the sea when he had plunged. Carly cleaned and dressed them, too.

“Did you talk to Rosie? About her text message,” she said, daring to broach the subject again. His head thumped, filled with heavy thoughts that made his eyes feel swollen and his temples throb.”

“No. There's nothing she can say.” He tried not to think about it. Thinking about it just sent his mind into a spin. He tried not to think about what would happen when she was gone, either. Would she call him? Ask him if he was okay?

The thought of her not being there, made his stomach ache with longing. He should never have let her in. He never would again.

“Maybe if you spoke to her? Get her side of the story. It might not be what you think it is.”

“I don’t want to talk to her. She keeps ringing all fucking day.”

Carly stopped wrapping his arm and met his eyes. “Really? Ringing all day?”

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