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“For Tommen?” I asked, setting a sudsy mug on the draining board.
“Yeah,” he replied, snatching up the mug to dry it with his tea towel. “I’m starting on the thirtieth of August.”
“Oh.” My heart plummeted. “I wish I were going with you.”
“Not half as much I wish you were,” he replied, opening a cupboard door and depositing the mug inside. “When are you back to Sacred Heart?”
“August thirtieth. Same as you.” I shook my head in disappointment. “It’s so unfair, Hugh. I should be going into first year with you.”
“I know, Liz,” he replied, sounding just as frustrated. “I agree.”
“I’m too old to be stuck in primary school for two more years.”
“You’re too smart to be stuck in primary school for two more years.”
“I’ll be fourteen by the time I get to secondary school.” Reaching into the kitchen sink, I pulled the plug and watched as the water swirled down the drain. “Everyone’s going to think there’s something wrong with me.”
“No, they won’t.” Hugh was quick to rebuff my argument, neatly folding the tea towel before setting it down on the draining board. “Because there isnothingwrong with you. Besides, it’ll even out after your junior cert.” Reaching for my hand, he pulled me into his arms. “You can skip fourth year, and then we’ll only be one year apart.”
“I know.” Shivering, I rested my cheek in the curve of his neck and wrapped my arms around his waist. “But I just want to be with you now.”
“Youarewith me now.” Hooking an arm around my waist, he cupped the back of my head with the other and whispered, “And I’m with you.”
Exhaling a shaky breath, I allowed my eyelids to flutter shut and my body to fold into his. “You make me feel so much.”
“In a good or bad kind of way?”
“In thebestkind of way.”
“That’s a relief,” he mused, quite content to hold on to me. “It’s the same for me, Liz.”
It wasn’t.
It couldn’t be.
He couldn’t possibly understand the feelings he evoked from deep inside of me or the reaction mybodyhad to his touch. Iknew I wasn’t supposed to feel that way, so I didn’t dare tell him, but it was growing stronger by the day.
What had started out as a pleasurable flutter in my chest whenever Hugh touched me had grown into a more urgent itch that needed to be scratched, before evolving into a full-blown hunger.
Holding my hand helped eased the hunger pains and hugging me like this took the edge off a little more, but I was stillstarvingand had no idea how to make it stop.
In the forefront of my mind was the conversation we once had about the bad touch, and I was acutely aware that I had to keep my hands to myself.
That I had tonottouch him.
Kissing only seemed to make the ache grow stronger, which resulted in my body moving in strange ways against his. Even worse was the frantic urge I had to move my hands over his skin in ways I knew werebad.
It made me feel so confused because all the scary things the monster forced me to do, all the awful things that hurt me inside and made me cry, were the very things I wantedthisboy to do to me.
The monster’s gone, a voice that sounded awfully like my sister echoed in my mind.You’re free now.
No, I wasn’t.
Because the monster might have been gone, but I would never be free of him.
Of the things he did to me.
Of the things that made me want to peel the skin off my bones forcraving.
