It is seven minutes past twelve. I am sixteen years old. I pull away from his lips. My head is spinning. I taste him on my lips. Musk. He looks so confused.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m not thinking straight.” I say quickly. Sam frowns, “Why did you do that? What about your boyfriend?” It takes me a good few minutes to understand what he is talking about. David. I’d forgotten about him. I feel a little sick again. I remember the way David said my name so carefully, so lovingly. Then I look at Sam. He’s everything I wanted.
“I’m not with David.” I say slowly.
Sam closes his eyes and breaths in deeply. “This is all getting very complicated. Jocelyn. Can you try to explain things for me? It’s been too long since I talked to you.”
I smile, I mean it. I smile properly; I feel my face move in way I didn’t know took so little effort.
We walk carefully to his bedroom, he sets me down on his bed. It’s been made for him. His mother still does that for him. He never could work out quite how to make it not look like a bird’s nest.
“I loved you from the age of 10.” I say. I’m just going to tell him the truth, lies don’t really work with Sam, he knows me too well. “I’ve been really depressed for ages. I don’t eat right, I self harm” I cringe as I say that one, I remember the laughter of two years ago. I remember how it cut me deeper than I could ever cut myself. “I wanted to kill myself for a long time. I’m not doing too well at the moment.”
Sam nods but says nothing. I know he is listening. I know he just needs to listen for now.
“The bandage on my arm is from self harm. I needed some stitches and so is my hand. I hit it against a wall, it’s a bit messed up. They wanted to x-ray it, so they took my metal stuff off, then they took my clothes because they had blood on them. When I was getting put back together the doctor told me I needed to see a therapist and I ran. I ran from St Catherine’s to the park and when I got there I was so scared of what had just happened I threw up. Then you found me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “St Catherine’s?”
I nod. “I know, well my feet felt the distance.” At this I come to a stuttering halt. Sam nudges me back into conversation.
“And David?”
“He’s liked me for ages and has been nice to me recently. He took me to St Catherine’s to get my arm sorted the other day.”
I stop, I can’t make myself say another word. I was so desperate to keep him talking I didn’t think about trying to make myself seem normal.
“How much of this could I have stopped?” Asks Sam, his hands have curled into fists and he is speaking more slowly than he normally does. This means he is angry, he’s very angry.
I don’t know what to say. My brain screams at me that he could have stopped all of it. That he was the only one who could have let me live. He could have made me happy.
“If I had just stayed. If I had ignored my bloody mother. If I hadn’t gone with the crowd. I was so damn stupid. Jocelyn. Did I ruin everything? Is it my fault? I’m as bad as those bastards who hurt you in the first place.”
I can’t talk. I just watch him.
“I deserve to hurt. Not you Jocelyn. I wanted you to be okay. You have been hurt by so many people.”
He’s almost crying. I am not really thinking. I just need to see what he does next. I want to be impartial.
“Tell me you still love me Jocelyn.” Sam begs. “Tell me you forgive me.”
I can’t. I can’t say I love him. I can’t forgive him for leaving me. Humiliating me. I cant’ forgive him for forgetting about me. I shake my head.
Sam’s face falls. “Jocelyn?”
I look up at him, he’s a little boy again. Terrified of the bin men, his favourite game is snakes and ladders, even though I always win. He is innocent. He’s my Sam still. And I can’t forgive him. I don’t even know what he’s done.
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