The Road Trip(87)

The picture comes next. Through the window, the warm glow of the office inside, with the two of them sitting side by side, drinking wine out of tumblers, his hand resting on her upper thigh.

‘Luke?’ I say. My voice is strangled. ‘I have to go.’

I press the off button to turn the screen black, then sit with the phone cradled between my hands, staring down, heart big and sick in my chest. The phrase seeing red has never meant anything to me before, but now I understand. I saw the image for less than a second but it’s drawn on the inside of my eyelids like sparklers in the night.

Eventually, after those long, stifling seconds of stillness, I grab my coat and pull on my shoes – so slow, so mundane, as if my world isn’t ending – and I run for the car.





Addie

He nips me with his teeth.

I turn in the cage of his arms. It’s worse. He pushes up my skirt, hand running up my thigh, pulling my leg so that the muscle along the back of my thigh wrenches with a shot of pain, and I’m bunching my fists now, trying to turn my head aside, and I’m clear, I couldn’t be clearer. I’m pushing his chest. I’m talking, I think – Stop it, please – and our teeth clatter, a dull thud inside my head as he keeps pushing his lips down on mine.

‘I know you want this,’ he tells me. ‘Don’t you?’

It’s a sound outside that makes him turn his head aside for a moment. We can’t see the window from here; he takes half a step back, then pauses, unsure. I remember something from long past. Self-defence classes in school, maybe. The fist that was pushing at his chest unravels and I grab his shoulder while he’s unsteady and my skirt is already up around my thighs so I can bring my knee up hard between his legs and watch him fold over, letting out a noise like an animal and – finally, as I sob – letting me go.

I run. The door isn’t locked. As I sprint down the corridor to the back exit, through the staffroom, I feel bone-cold with the fear that he’s locked up the school, but he hasn’t. He wasn’t afraid I’d run. He knew I wanted it, he’d said.

I run all the way home. At least ten kilometres. My feet bleed. When I take my shoes off inside the flat I flinch when I see them. I’m shaking so hard I can’t use my fingers properly. I sit on the floor and weep like I’ll never stop crying. I claw at my skin. I dig my fingernails into my arms. I remember all the times I smiled at him when he smiled at me.





Dylan

I get there just as Etienne is coming out of the building; he turns, carefully locking up behind him.

‘That’s him,’ Marcus says, suddenly at my shoulder. ‘There. That’s him.’

I know. I saw the photo. That split second of the image on the screen was more than enough for me to memorise every line of that bastard’s face.

I run at him. Marcus calls to me – he sounds surprised. He’s been drinking, and he isn’t fast enough to catch me. My fist hits Etienne’s jaw just as he turns. There’s a hot pain in my knuckle, a jarring shock in my elbow. He doubles over.

‘What the—’

‘What the fuck were you doing with my girlfriend?’ I say, realising with shame that I’m crying.

Etienne looks up at me, eyes wide. ‘It’s not what you think,’ he says.

‘No? Looked pretty cosy to me,’ Marcus says.

Etienne looks at him quickly, eyes narrowing. He stays low, crouched. I keep my fists bunched at my sides and wish I wasn’t sniffling and shaking like a child.

‘She’s . . . intense,’ Etienne says. ‘She’s been coming on to me all term, finding reasons to spend time alone with me, staying late just to try and . . .’

‘Shut up,’ I say, wiping my face hard. ‘Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up.’

‘No, go on,’ Marcus says. He steps forward. ‘Go on.’

‘Look, I tried to be a good guy. But she’s – I had a moment of weakness. She said how badly she wanted me and . . .’

He darts backwards as I move towards him again, but Marcus puts his hand out to stop me.

‘I’m sorry,’ Etienne says. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘What happened?’ Marcus asks. ‘Where is she now?’

‘I stopped her as soon as I realised what was happening,’ Etienne says, eyes flicking between me and Marcus. ‘She got mad and left. I didn’t mean for anything to happen with her. She just . . . got in my head. I can’t think straight around her.’

Marcus is nodding. ‘Yeah,’ he says. His voice slurs. ‘Yeah. That sounds just like Addie.’





Addie

I call my sister. I will never be grateful enough for Deb. I barely have words to say it, but she never says, I thought you fancied him. She never says, You wanted that. She turns up at the flat and she undresses me like I’m made of something precious, then gets me in the shower. After I’m clean, she wraps me in my old threadbare dressing gown and holds me very tightly. It isn’t a hug – she’s holding me together.

The guilt sets in after the shock. It’s all very predictable. When I’m no longer running from him, when the horror isn’t right in front of me, I’m totally sure it’s my fault. I fancied him. I drank his wine and I replied to his texts.