Page 52 of Restitution
Nothing.
I keep speaking. “I’m going to turn on the shower. You don’t need to talk, but let me look after you. Please.”
Slowly, Kade drops his hands from his hair, his head still bowed. He slips the face covering up to cover his top lip with shaky fingers and closes his eyes. I think he might be oblivious to the fact he just ruined Chris without hiding his face.
I don’t want him to hide.
He stays sitting in the corner of the room while I walk into the adjoining bathroom and hunt for a towel, some soap and a scrubber, and turn on the shower. I wait for it to get hot, and when I turn around, Kade is back to rocking again, muttering under his breath.
He’s whispering in Russian, I think. I can’t understand a word he’s saying.
I drop the towel on the sink and inch closer, trying to hear his words. The shower drowns out most of the noise, belting against the glass panel, and there’s a clicking coming from the slightly ajar window.
Kade’s shoulders shake, and he glances at me like I’m a ghost haunting him, like I’m stalking him and ready to pounce with a knife in my hand. Terror. Fear. The look of someone who’s given up and is begging for mercy.
Then the words he’s whispering are English again, and they get more distorted with his spasming body.
I stop moving when what he’s saying becomes as clear as asummer’s day.
“She’s not there. She’s not there. She’s not fucking there.” They’re uneven, his face red as he forces each one out. “Stop looking. She’s not there. She’s never there. Not there. No. She’s not there.”
This is a massive flip from the way he was while I was in that room with him, while he whispered in my ear, fingers deep inside me. Until it all got too much and I had to leave. He was in control of himself, semi-sane, but now it’s like his bubble has burst and the entire world is on his shoulders.
I sit on the bed, keeping my distance. “Kade…”
He flinches and curls in on himself, hiding in the corner some more. As if a dark shadow is pulling over him, he does everything he can to put distance between us, and I chew my lip, not sure what to do.
I’m not going to force him to look at me, but I need him to know he’s safe. I’m not Bernadette. I’m not Archie. Nor am I any of the clients who took from him when he didn’t want to give. I’m not asking him to kill anyone or to take drugs, or injecting him with substances that made him this way. I just want him to know he’s safe.
He looks like a scared little boy, and I refuse to leave him like this.
“I’m here. It’s me, Stacey. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He slaps the side of his head, his mutters growing louder, and my eyes burn while I watch my first and only love try not to destroy himself. The eighteen-year-old who was nervous to kiss me during a game of dares – who shook nervously when he pressed me into the couch and kissed me – who shared all my firsts and treated me like a princess.
My voice cracks. “I’m your Freckles, remember?”
The hand beating against the side of his head stops, and hisfingers curl into his palm as he drops it so he can hold his knees with both arms.
“We have two dogs. Milo and Hopper.” They’re with the manor staff, waiting patiently for their master to return. “Do you remember when we used to walk them on the grounds, and they’d get us all muddy when they dragged us through the woods? You always held the leads because I let them go when they ran, and you’d need to chase them through the manor.”
He doesn’t need to give me a response, but I know he’s listening.
So I continue, kicking off my shoes and crossing my legs on his bed. I smile as I think of the times we’ve had.
“You always loved my singing voice, even though you said you didn’t. It made you laugh. We laughed a lot. When we were drunk and singing karaoke in Greece, or even when we were just lying in bed and talking. We always had that, you know? We kept each other smiling. You gave me a reason to live when I felt like I was already dead inside.”
I gulp, fresh tears already sliding down my cheeks.
“You still make me smile. When I think of you, I feel alive. I think of our first date a lot. London. Dinner. Hotel rooms and more firsts. They’reours. All of those memories are ours. Kade and Stacey. Stacey and Kade. What we had was special.”
Kade stops shaking like a leaf, his head still lowered.
I study him. “I haven’t been able to watchThe Greatest Showmanwithout crying. I don’t even sing during ‘From Now On’ – can you believe that?”
The shower is still running, steam building in the room and causing the window to mist up. I stare at the blood on the floor, a slide mark showing that he slipped and stayed where he landed.
“I’m glad you designed some tattoos for me. I still have them,” I say, standing up slightly, but the movement still makes him flinch like I’ve hit him. I step back to give him space and pull my hoodie down at the back, showing him our initials warped together with the design he made. “I’ll never cover this one. It’s my favourite.”
