Strangers (29 page)

“Talk to me,” he yelled.

His hands were all over her, surging under her dress, tearing it over her head.
Charlie stopped thinking.
He ripped her bra away, dropped his head to her breast and bit her.

Kate howled in pain.
“Fuck it, Charlie.
That hurt.”

She tried to push him away, but he knocked her arms aside, caught hold of her wrists and held them with one hand.

“Tell me to stop,” he begged.

His fingers plunged inside her underwear and moments later her panties lay in shreds on the ground and his fingers were in her.
Charlie pulled her to the front of the car and twisted her around so she lay facedown over the bonnet, sprawled out naked in front of him.
When he let her wrists go, she tried to lever herself up, but he kept her where she was.

“Tell me to stop,” he pleaded.
“Kate, I want you to tell me to stop.
Tell me to fuck off, go away, leave you alone.
Please.”

He fumbled with his zip and freed his erection.
She was the only thing important to him, but he didn’t deserve her.
He wanted her to see what he was really like.
Charlie didn’t even pull down his trousers, just pushed his dick between her legs and fucked her.
Kate gave a loud sob and then fell silent.

She couldn’t move.
The bonnet of the car was hot, hard and hurting her.
Charlie shuddered against her as his cum dribbled down her thighs.
Kate knew exactly why he’d done this.
He wanted to drive her away.
He had no idea how familiar it was, being abused, being loved, then abused again.
She felt something wet, high on her back and his body quivered.
He was crying.
When he pulled away from her, she took a deep breath and eased herself off the front of the car.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed.
“I’m sorry.”

Kate turned.
He stood with tears rolling down his cheeks, his eyes closed, his cock hanging out.
She picked up her tattered panties and wiped herself before pulling her dress over her head.
Charlie still hadn’t moved.
He didn’t even look as though he was breathing.
His eyes were squeezed shut, his fists clenched as if he’d been frozen by the horror of what he’d done.

Kate stepped to him and let her fingers brush over his.

“Open your eyes, Charlie.
I’m still here.”

“Sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“I’m so sorry.
I can’t believe I did that.
I forced you, I raped—”

Kate took hold of his hand, wouldn’t let him pull away.
“Open your eyes and look at me.” She held his gaze.
“You didn’t rape me.”

“I hurt you,” he whispered.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.
Why did I do that to you?
Why did you let me?
Why didn’t you say stop?” He began to shake.
“Oh God, it wasn’t your fault.
Sorry.”

She slid her arms around his waist.
“I’ll be all right, Charlie.
It’s okay.”

His arms remained at his sides.
He stood like a dejected statue.

“It’s not okay,” he said.
“Tell me to leave you alone.
Tell me to fuck off.”

“No.”

He breathed in noisy gasps.
“I don’t want you to love me.
I’m not worth it.”

Kate held him tight.

“My mum doesn’t love me anymore,” Charlie whispered, sounding so much like a little boy that Kate’s heart twisted.

“Yes, she does.
She’s grieving for what she’s lost.
She hurts just like you do.
My God, Charlie, think how you’d feel if you lost your son, someone you’d loved all those years, everything you wanted for him, gone in an instant.
Their lives changed forever that night.
It killed something inside them.
I know you’re hurting too.
I know you went through something unspeakably awful, but he was their child.
They’d watched him grow, fed him, laughed with him and been proud of him.
They had dreams for him and they’re all gone.”

Kate stroked his back, kissed him.
He didn’t respond.

“They know you’re in pain and they’re angry with Michael for that.
They’re angry because if he’d been more careful, it wouldn’t have happened.
And they feel guilty that they’re angry.
You’re all awash with emotions.
Your mum does love you, but she needs time and more than anything else, she needs for you to keep on loving her.”

Finally, Charlie put his arms around her.
Kate held him close, kissed the salty tears from his cheeks.

“Your dad told me he’d like to meet your birth mother.
He wants to thank her for giving you up.
He says they were the lucky ones, because they got you.
They’re frightened of losing you, Charlie.”

“I’m so fucked up.
I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I shouldn’t have done that to you.
I’ll never do it again.”

She kissed his nose.
“I’ve had worse done.”

“Oh Christ.”

She reached down, tucked him back into his pants, gently zipped him up, and fastened the button.

“You wanted me to tell you no?
Well, no more driving like a teenager,” she said as she got back into the car.

“God, I’m sorry.”

“And no more saying you’re sorry.”

As Charlie pulled back onto the road, Kate pretended to sleep.
She was more hurt than he knew.
She’d thought he was different, but when he’d taken his anger out on her, Kate wondered if she’d made another mistake.
She wished he wasn’t hurting, but letting him hurt her had been all she could think of, making him confront whatever it was eating him up.
What did she know about any of this?
Perhaps she’d made things worse.
What if it didn’t stop here?
What if the abuse continued, as it had with Dex.
Was there something about her that drove her to damaged guys?
Kate wanted to believe Charlie would keep his promise to never hurt her again.
She had to believe it because she couldn’t leave him.

Chapter Eighteen

“Hey, wake up.”

Kate stirred to find Charlie nuzzling her ear.
She opened her eyes and blinked.
Everything was pitch black.
“Where the hell are we?”

“In my garage.”

“Isn’t there a light?”

“An automatic one, but it’s gone off.
We’ve been here a while.”

He got out of the car.
A moment later the lights went on and he came round to open the door on Kate’s side.
He took hold of her hand but wouldn’t look at her.
He led her up a flight of steep steps and unlocked the door that took them into the house.
As they moved into the hall, Kate’s eyes rose to the painted ceiling and she shuddered.

“Hungry?” Charlie asked, still looking away from her.

Neither of them had eaten since breakfast, but Kate felt sick.

“I’ll order a takeaway later, if you like,” Charlie said.

Kate knew he felt guilty about hurting her, and so he should, but he had to find a way through this himself.
She’d mothered him enough.

“Do you want to go home?” he whispered.

She raised his scraped knuckles to her lips and kissed them.
“No.
I want you to show me your house.” Kate made sure her voice sounded bright.

They were quiet as they walked around and he clung to her hand like a small child.
The main room was beautiful, nothing old or tatty.
Exotic rugs in shades of blue and brown lay scattered over a pale wood floor.
A massive LCD TV dominated one wall and the others displayed a range of paintings Kate might have chosen herself.
Three large light-brown leather couches strewn with shaggy blue cushions were arranged around a multi-layered, glass coffee table.
Books and magazines sat in neat piles.
Nothing out of place.

“Ooh, furniture,” she said.
“Did you choose it yourself?”

He shrugged, his face etched with distress, dark shadows back under his eyes.

“This is like being at the cinema.” Kate stood next to the huge TV.
“How do you turn it on?”

Charlie picked up a remote, pressed it and the TV went on then off.
Another button brought music.
A third closed the curtains.

“Which is the button for the bat cave?” she asked.

Not even the hint of a smile.
Kate wondered if she’d cried and sobbed, it would have made a difference.
Was her ability to get past it stopping him doing the same?

The kitchen, with its glossy granite work surfaces and brushed steel appliances, looked as though it had come out of a showroom.
She ran her fingers over a butcher’s block.

“It’s a fabulous kitchen,” Kate said and meant it.

The music room was dominated by a grand piano, the floor covered in a sea of paper.
Charlie snapped out of his lethargy and scooped up the sheets of manuscript in such a rush, Kate knew he was hiding something.

“Do you have a garden?” she asked.

“A small one.”

He switched on lights and opened French doors.
Kate looked out onto a yard that seemed all plants and trees.
A herringbone patterned brick patio curled toward a small lawn, and tucked away in the corner was a blue and white mosaic-topped table and four metal chairs.

“We could eat breakfast out here,” she said.

No response.

Kate wondered if she should leave, but he still clung to her hand.
The only time he’d let her go was to pick up the music.
She wandered back into the dining room and admired the glass table laid with hand-painted plates and blue stone-handled cutlery.
Six curvy stemmed, wide-mouthed glasses that looked impossible to use, sat on silver star-shaped coasters.
Kate felt certain no one had ever sat there to eat.
Charlie’s home wasn’t a home.

She touched the edge of the dining table.
“Is this from IKEA?”

“No, it bloody—Right, very funny, Kate.”

But she saw him give a little smile and felt glad.

The final room downstairs was a cross between an electronic store and a music shop.
It was full of equipment—wires and speakers everywhere, three guitars on stands, several amps, a selection box of pedals, another flat-screen TV and a keyboard.
Chaotic order,
this
was Charlie’s heart.

“I thought you’d given up the music?” she said.

“I’m sometimes inspired to write.”

“Written a song about me?”

His eyes opened wide.

Kate smiled and put her arms around him.
“Charlie, sometimes you are as transparent as glass.
What were you racing to pick up by that piano?”

“That was just a piece about this witch of woman who drove every man she slept with completely mad.”

“It
is
about me.” Kate laughed.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

“You drive me mad with lust,” he said, staring into her eyes.
“Sometimes…too mad.
I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

The last place Charlie showed her was his bedroom.
The clothes he’d taken off that morning lay in a little nest on the carpet.
Socks inside pants, inside trousers, just as he’d stepped out of them.

“If you positioned your feet right, you could put those back on again,” she said.

“I sometimes do.”

Kate rolled her eyes and went into the bathroom, walls and floor covered by pale travertine tiles, a scattering of halogen lights over the ceiling.
The silver taps gleamed, as did a huge sail-shaped towel rail holding a set of fluffy bath sheets in decreasing shades of blue.
The walk-in shower had a spotless curved glass wall and a large whirlpool tub sat in the corner.
As far as Kate was concerned, this was a bathroom made in heaven.

“Does the tub take long to fill?”

Charlie started the water running.
“I’ll get us something to drink.”

And finally, Kate hoped it would be all right because she knew a way to make him laugh again.

When Charlie got back, the bathroom door was closed.
Above the hum of the Jacuzzi, he could hear Kate swearing.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Kate?
Are you okay?”

“No, I’m bloody not.
Don’t come in.”

It was like waving a bar of chocolate in front of a child and expecting to hear the words “no thank you”.
Charlie opened the door.

“Fuck,” he said, then laughed.

Kate stood in a sea of foam looking panic-stricken.
The froth covered the bathroom floor and was creeping up the walls like an alien fungus.
Charlie closed the door to save his bedroom carpet and waded across.
He put down the bottle of champagne and the two glasses, lost them in the foam and turned off the jets.

“How much did you squirt in?” he asked.

“The whole bottle.
The top came off.
When I came back in, I couldn’t find a way to switch it off.
Will it damage the tiles?”

“I don’t care about the tiles.”

Kate lifted her dress over her head and let it drop into the foam.

“Oh God,” he whispered.
“Look what I’ve done to your beautiful body.”

His fingers touched a mark on her breast, a bloody graze at her shoulder.
There were smudges of blood all over her, fortunately his.
But the bruises were his fault.
He traced every mark with his fingers, memorizing every one and wishing it all back.

“I should take you to a hospital, I should—”

“I’m all right, Charlie.
I’m not broken.”

He ran his fingers over her cheek and when she turned into the caress like a kitten being stroked, something shattered inside him.
“Please forgive me.
I swear to you that I’ll never lose control like that again.
No matter how furious I get, I’ll never, ever hurt you again.”

“Not even if I scratch your car?”

“Don’t joke, Kate.”

Tears gathered in the bottom of his eyes.
He blinked and they spilled over, rolling down his cheeks.

“Don’t forgive me too quickly.
I want to make it up to you.
I’ll—” He flailed around.
“I’ll buy you a new dress.
A…a new sewing machine.
I could get—”

“Charlie!
All I want is a bath.”

“Let me wash you.”

“That would be nice.”

Kate stepped into the bubbles.
When she sat down, she almost disappeared.
Charlie blew away the foam until he found the glasses and then poured the champagne.
Crouching in the white froth at the side of the bath, he clinked his glass against hers.
“I promise never to hurt you again.”

“I promise not to let you.
Now get in here and wash me.”

Charlie stripped off and slid behind Kate.
He saw more marks on her back and bit the inside of his cheek so hard, the coppery tang of blood seeped into his mouth.
Kate leaned back against him and slid her hands under the foam, piling mounds of white fluff on her breasts.