Page 78 of Judging Duke

“I took what little money I had, a backpack full of clothes and headed to my aunt’s place in Liverpool. I thought I could lie low there for a few days, maybe a week, then return home when things died down a little.

“When I found out that Robbie was in a bad way, I stayed away longer. I didn’t want to face up to what I’d done, and there was no way I could visit him. I didn’t know it was to be the worst decision of my life.”

“Why? What happened?”

“My uncle happened. Aunt Deb’s husband was a predator and especially liked boys. At first, I thought I was imagining it. A stray hand here and there, a touch he always apologised for, but they became more and more frequent. I swear Aunt Deb saw him do it, but she’d just smile and say he’d always wanted a son and hugged me, saying how glad she was I was staying with them.”

“God, Duke. I didn’t know.”

“No one did. I never told a soul, but the moment he came into my room and pinned me to the bed, his hand over my mouth, I knew it was time to leave.”

“Did he…?”

“Did he rape me? Yeah, he did. You said yourself I was a scrawny kid. He had 150 lbs on me, give or take. I was overpowered and terrified. I’m surprised he didn’t tear me apart. I closed my eyes, taking myself to a place I never want to go to again, but I did anything I could to remove myself from that situation. His foul breath on my cheek as he told me I was a good little slut, how he’d watched me for a week and knew I’d be his for the taking. His fat, sweaty stomach rubbing against my back, his hands pawing me, spreading my cheeks wider.”

I shuddered at the memory, and bile raced up my throat. I swallowed hard and took a calming breath. It had been years since I’d thought about it, and I had pushed the memories far into the recesses of my mind. Remembering it now brought it all flooding back.

A gentle hand on my face reminded me I was no longer there but sharing a bed with Simon.

“Who did you tell?”

I laughed dryly. “I tried to tell my aunt, but she didn’t listen. I was too ashamed to go home, so I packed up my bag the next day and I left. Walked into Liverpool city centre and never looked back. I slept on the streets for a couple of nights until I met an older prostitute that took me under her wing.”

“Fuck me, and I thought I had it bad.”

“Oh, I’m not done yet.” I hopped out of bed, suddenly thirsty. Reliving the memories had the adrenaline pumping through my veins, and now I’d started, I couldn’t stop the words tumbling from my mouth.

“Do I want to know?”

“I don’t know. Do you? It doesn’t get any easier to listen to.”

He nodded. “I want to know.”

I continued while I searched the room. “Let’s just say one thing led to another, and I spent the next God knows how manyyears selling myself to make a living. I couldn’t go home. How could I tell my parents and Isla what I’d become?”

I found a couple of bottles of water and handed one to Simon. I took a gulp, moistening my dry mouth.

I sat on the edge of the bed. It didn’t feel right lying down telling my story. I needed to look him in the eye and make him understand the effect his words and actions had on my life. He’d said before I’d had a good life.

Guaranteed, that hadn’t happened.

“You were a prostitute. That’s what you meant.” He sat up and shifted uncomfortably in the bed, the sheet slipping down his body.

“Jackpot! Men, women. It didn’t matter to me. If they had enough money, they could have me.” It was a part of my life I’d tried desperately to hide from everyone I loved. Even Isla didn’t know the full details, although she’d pieced together a few.

He looked around the room, anywhere but at me.

“It’s in the past, Simon. I’m notthatDuke anymore either. It was a means to an end, but it was hard to get out of. I knew I wanted to be a better person, to make something of myself. So, when I met a fellow prostitute, Lottie, we talked about getting out of the game, and we both did. I took a course in massage and physio, all paid for with the proceeds of my days on the streets. She put herself through beauty school. I worked fucking hard to get where I am now.”

“I don’t know how you did it. And here was me accusing you of having a charmed life when it was shit.”

“It wasn’t all shit. I had some good laughs, made some amazing friends, and I’m who I am today because of it. I grew up quickly. I don’t give a fuck, and I’m confident as all hell. If I see something I want, I take it. Working on the streets taught me to never give up on my dreams, to fight for what I want. And I’ve had my fair share of fights, even have the scars to prove it.”

I showed him a particularly bad one on my ribs, where I’d been slashed with a knife. A few stitches and it had healed well, but the reminder was always there.

“How long have you been, you know?” Was Simon struggling with my confession? It didn’t matter. It was a big part of me. It was who I was.

“How long have I been off the streets? A good few years, but you know, I’ve lost count. I don’t look at the past anymore, just the future. That’s where my success lies. I’ve had some good jobs. Worked in some exclusive hotels, spas and even did some work on a movie. I met some famous people too, had my hands on a few of them. All that matters is what happens the next day, and the next, and the next. We can’t change the past. It happened, and we have to move on.”

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