CORAL - Fallen (A Romance Trilogy, Book 2) (37 page)

“So my Mom’s having a good day, or she’s
really high, I’m not sure, and it’s Sunday so she’s going to cook. A beef
casserole with dumplings, she told me, she knew I loved it, then the lady next
door comes round gave her the news they are leaving. When she leaves my Mom
starts freaking out at me, because she’s got to find another babysitter. So she
leaves the house, slamming the door behind her and I’m left alone. It’s night
time so the house is dark, I’m tired, scared and hungry and I have no idea if
she’s coming back,” I take another drink.

“I don’t know what time she returned, but I
was asleep upstairs. The music starts playing downstairs, and I can hear loads
of people, laughing, joking…my Mom comes up the stairs, falling over god knows
how many times, and tells me to come downstairs, that she’s found me a new
babysitter…” My hands start to shake uncontrollably, the water sloshing about
in the glass giving me away. Reaching out Tristan gently takes the glass out of
my trembling hands.

I close my eyes and try to push the images
away. I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around myself.

“So I follow my Mom down the stairs, she staggers into the
living room and I follow her. There are adults everywhere, on the floor,
against the wall, on the sofa, I can hear them in the kitchen too, and there
naked....there’s naked bodies everywhere. My Mom shouts to some woman who looks
up and smiles at me, then my Mom passes out on top of some naked guy.”

“So the woman comes over to me and tells me she’s my new
babysitter, she smelt so bad, of stale booze and cigarettes, and she had really
nasty yellow teeth and a deep rasping cough. This went on several times, my Mom
would go to work and she would come round with a bunch of her friends,
I didn’t know what they were doing, she always sent me to my room.
There was always loud music playing, and I could smell a funny smoke coming up
the stairs and they were always noisy, in and out of the kitchen,” I glance
across at Tristan. “They were getting pissed, smoking crack and weed, and
having orgies,” Tristan looks horrified. I stare back at the fireplace and try
to control the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Not ideal for a
babysitter right, but what harm were they doing?” I close my eyes again.

“Anyway, this one night I was woken up by the noise, so I
creep downstairs and peep into the living room, I wanted to see if my Mom was
home, because whenever she came back from work, she would join in with them,
she stopped bothering with me altogether. But I still loved her, she was my
Mom, I was a kid...” I
take a moment because I can hear how
badly my voice is trembling.

“That night a man caught me watching, I
thought I would be told off and taken back to up to my room, but he just stood
there completely naked in the doorway, I hadn’t seen him before. He called back
to everyone in the room, some looked up at me others didn’t. He smiled down at
me and held his hand out, I didn’t know if I should take it. My Dad had at
least taught me not to speak to strangers, but he knelt down and started
talking to me, he asked me my name and stroked my hair, he told me I had pretty
eyes, my Dad always used to say that to me, so I thought he was ok…. you know.
When you’re a kid, you don't know any better....that was the first night I was
sexually abused.” I hear Tristan’s sharp intake of breathe.

I lie down on the sofa and curl up into a
ball, wrapping the throw even tighter around me, staring blankly ahead I
continue.

“I don't know how many times it happened in
those six months. George said I repressed the memories of it, but I still get
flashbacks. I remember his hairy chest, his nasty smell and how he would always
be telling me ‘good girl’ when I did what he asked. At first it was just him,
then this other guy started joining in, then the babysitter bought a camera in,
and they would film it.

“George said they were probably a pedophile
ring. I remember once they brought a boy over and made me do it with him. He
was so scared, but I told him ‘do what they say or they hit you hard’ – In my
peripheral vision I see Tristan’s hands ball into fists – ‘they hurt me so
badly sometimes that I would bleed and bleed. I knew how to turn the shower on,
so I would stay under it until it stopped, I didn’t want to bleed on my
bed-sheets. I was so scared that my Mom would find out, and completely lose it
with me, because I thought I was the one in the wrong, I thought I must have
done something wrong for them to be doing this to me.

“I used to cry out at first, tell them to
stop, but that just made them angry, so I found a way of blocking it all out so
whenever they would start on me, I would just go numb as though I wasn’t even
there. It all stopped when my Mom was put on psychiatric leave, she was
supposed to be seeing a shrink, but she didn’t, she just faded away. Sometimes
she would sleep for days on end, no doubt completely comatosed by the drugs she
was taking. I was so hungry and scared. I wanted to call my Dad, but I didn’t
know his number.

“Then one day, I woke up feeling really
ill, I head a head cold or something. I was sick, I needed my Mom, but she
wouldn’t wake up. She’d been like that for a couple of days, so I went
downstairs picked up the phone and
dialled
999. I
remember the lady that answered had a kind voice, she talked to me until the
police and the ambulance came. I can remember the poiliceman trying to pick me
up, but I didn’t want them to touch me. I screamed the place down, but they
just grabbed me and we all left the house. They took Mom away, and I was put
into foster care,” I say numbly – I close my eyes, feeling completely drained,
mentally, physically, emotionally, metaphysically; just like I did when I told
George.

“Tristan,” I mumble sleepily. “Are you
going to leave me now?”

I feel him take my hand in his. “No,” he
trembles. I feel him kiss my temple. “Never,” he adds. I exhale in relief like
I’ve been holding my breath the whole time.

“Ok.” I mumble. He tightens his grip,
almost to the point of pain. “If you want to talk to George, his number’s in my
mobile. The lock code is 1987 it’s the year I moved in with Gladys.” Tristan
doesn’t say anything, but I hear him sniff.

“I need to sleep now Tristan,” I tell him
keeping my eyes closed. I hear him move, I feel his breathe on my face as he
gently kisses my temple again.

“Ok baby,” he whispers. “Sleep as long as
you want, I’ll be here when you wake up.” I feel my heart stutter madly against
my chest –
He’s staying, thank-god he’s staying!

Sighing heavily, I let the darkness take
over and drift away into unconsciousness...

WHEN I WAKE I SEE
its gone
dark outside and the only light is from the glow of the fire, the rest of the
house is in darkness. I sit up slowly, feeling dazed and confused, looking down
I see I have a quilt draped across me.
Tristan!
My eyes search the
living room and the kitchen, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Tristan?” I call out, but I get no answer.
I need to find him.

Standing up I wobble slightly, so I take a
second to let my blood pressure adjust. My stomach growls loudly at me, but I
ignore it. I see my knickers on the floor, reaching down I pull them on, they I
spy Tristan’s work shirt. I pick it up and inhale his scent, it’s still as
potent. Slipping it on and doing up the buttons, I pad quietly into the
kitchen.

Looking around, I see my handbag on the
kitchen table, with my mobile sitting next to it. I wonder if Tristan has
spoken to George? –
I have to find him. I need to know we are still ok!

Walking through the kitchen to the hallway,
I call up the stairs for him, but I get no reply. With all the lights are off,
the house suddenly seems dark and eerie. As I go to turn around, I suddenly
realise the real reason why I didn’t want to be here without Tristan – I don’t
like being in big houses on my own, there are too many rooms, it reminds me of
my childhood, of being in that house alone.

A shiver runs down my spine, I actually
feel a little scared –
I need Tristan and I need him now!
Running back
through the kitchen and into the living room, I pull the throw off the sofa and
wrap it around me. I decide to check his office first.

Flinging the door open, I see the lights
are all off, not in here. Dashing down the stairs to the basement, my steps
falter as I hear some kind of music playing – it’s haunting and makes me slow
my pace down.

Padding along the hallway, I follow the
sound of the music and come to a stop at the cinema room, the door is cracked
open, peeking through I see such a sad vision before me. Tristan is sat on the
sofa, soft lighting illuminating the room, the woman, whoever she is, is
singing a haunting melody around him; it sounds like opera?

He has a large glass of amber liquid in his
hand. I can see he’s been training, his t-shirt is soaked with sweat, and he still
has a towel wrapped around his neck. I watch him take a drink then wipe the
sweat from his brow, but it’s his haunted look that worries me. His expression
is so sad…so forlorn. He looks so lonely as he sits there sipping his drink…
Oh
Tristan!

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HESITANTLY STEPPING FORWARD
, I push the door open, and as I do, I see he’s on his mobile. I
didn’t realise so I go to turn around, leave him to it, but his head snaps up
and our eyes meet, they look dark and broody. As I look closer, I see the rims
of his eyes look a little red, like he’s been crying –
Oh no! Tristan!

As he gazes up at me, his eyes take on a
warm melting light shade of brown. He puts down his drink, and holds out his
hand to me as he continues to listen. “Yes...I understand…,” he says.

I tentatively walk towards him, then reach
out and place my hand in his. Tristan tugs me forward and pulls me onto his lap,
then he wraps his free arm around my waist, and squeezes me tightly against his
body. I cradle my head under his jaw and inhale his scent – Even his sweat
smells good. I sigh inwardly and close my eyes –
He hasn’t gone!

“Can we continue this later?” He asks then
he listens for a moment. “Yes, she’s woken up.” My eyes dart open. “Thank you
George.” Tristan hangs up and puts his mobile down on the table.

“Hey.” He croaks, wrapping his other arm
around me squeezing me tight.

I close my eyes again and surrender to the
safety of his arms.

“Who’s this?” I ask.

“What?” he asks bemused.

“Singing?” I whisper.

“Oh…it’s called Lovers, by Kathleen Battle,”
he tells me.

“It’s beautiful…and kind of sad,” I say.

“I thought you’d be out all night,” he says
kissing my hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t next to you when you woke, like I said I
would be.” For some reason I feel shy again, like I did when we first met. I
don't know what to say to him?

“Baby?” He prompts. I wrap my arms around
his body and squeeze him tight. I don't want to move, I don’t want to let go. “That
was George,” he says.

“I know,” I answer snuggling even more into
his body.

“You don't want to talk?” he guesses. I
shake my head. “Ok. Hungry, thirsty? What do you need baby?” he asks.

I open my eyes and tilt my head back. “You,”
I whisper. “Are the most wonderful man I have ever met,” I tremble, softly
touching his cheek with my fingertips.

“You’re cold,” Tristan says. Grasping my
fingertips between his warm hand, he gently blows on them to warm them up…
oh
he is so sweet
…

I shake my head. “I don’t feel cold,” I
dither.
Ok, maybe I am, I probably need food.
Tristan leans down and
gently kisses my lips.

“You’ve been working out?” I question.

“Yes.” I see his pupils dilate.

“You were angry,” I guess.

“Yes.” Tristan blinks a couple of times at
me.

“And sad,” I say tracing my forefinger
under his eye.

“Yes,” he croaks.

“Don’t be sad for me baby,” I whisper.

Tristan turns his face away from me,
clenches his jaw and shakes his head in frustration. “Kind of hard not being
sad, now I know what...what happened to you,” he answers looking back at me.

I take a deep breath and exhale. What do I
say to that? If this had happened to Tristan, I would cry for him, I know I
would.

“I know we have a lot to talk about,” I
tell him staring at his broad chest. “And I'm sure you have a lot of questions,
but just for tonight can we pretend like it didn’t happen?” I ask.

Tristan smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach
his eyes. “Baby, we can do whatever you want,” he tells me, leaning down and
kissing my forehead.

“I did warn you,” I tell him, remembering
how I pleaded with him to stop pursuing the subject, and me.

“That you did.” He answers.

“I guess we’re not eating out tonight,” I
chuckle.

“Seriously! You’re laughing?” He chokes.

I frown back at him. “Um...yeah,” I mumble.
Then it hits me –
Tristan needs time, time to process what I’ve told him.

“Sorry,” I mumble apologetically. “I guess
it’s all just so fresh to you, I’ve had it forever....” I stare back at him. He’s
broody again, which I guess is understandable. “I did something very brave,” I
tell him proudly, trying to pull him out of it.

“You did?” He questions his brows knitted
together.

“Yes, I bought a dress!” I say smiling
broadly. Tristan’s face falls, his eyes darkening. “George told you,” I guess.

“Yes,” he whisper, his voice breaking
slightly.

“So now you know why I wouldn’t wear
dresses?” I whisper back.

“Yes.” He swallows hard.

“And why I'm having Hypnotherapy to fix
it?” I add.

“Yes, and for what it’s worth, I think
you’re the bravest person I have ever met. But you don't need to do that for me
baby’ I place my fingers across his lips. “I'm not, well I am, it’s complicated,”
I croak.

“I'm all ears baby, if you want to say,” he
softly says.

I gaze back at him debating. Oh well, it’s
not like I need to hold back anymore. The worst is over, yet here I am, wrapped
up in his arms! I nod and start speed talking.

“When I met you, it wasn’t something I
would have even considered Tristan, but you brought me out of my shell, out of
the safe little bubble I’d placed myself in. George has been trying for ages to
get me to work on it with him, but I kept telling him I was fine, happy with
the way things were. Of course, I was in denial,” I laugh, Tristan frowns
again.

“I wanted to look nice and sexy for you, but
I started to realise that I’d been holding
myself
  back, blocking
it out instead of taking a risk, and taking the steps I needed to get better. I
realised I didn’t just want it for you, I wanted it for me too. I want to feel
feminine and sexy, but most of all, I wanted the freedom to wear whatever I
wanted, whenever I wanted to, without freaking out about it. Does that make
sense?” I breathe.

Tristan pulls me into him and kisses my
cheek. “You’re so sweet baby,” he kisses me again. “And yes, it makes sense,” he
adds.

Feeling thirsty I lean forward, pick up
Tristan’s glass and take a sip, instantly wishing that I hadn’t, the Brandy
burns like crazy!

Pulling a face, he takes it off me and puts
it on the table. “
Not going down well?
”
he surmises.

“No,” I wince. Then I remember my initial
fear about telling Tristan. That once he knows, he won’t want me the same way,
won’t look at me like he used to.

I stare down at the floor –
I wonder if
he still feels the same about me?

“What is it?” he asks lifting my chin, with
his fingers.

I gaze back at him trying to read his
reaction to me. “I...I had my reasons for not telling you about my past,” I
whisper.

“I know baby, you told me. You were afraid
to lose me,” he answers.

I shake my head. “No, I was afraid you
wouldn’t want me anymore...I mean sexually...I was afraid I’d never see you
look at me again with the same intense, passionate, burning look in your eyes.
It would kill me if that was gone,” I mumble.

“Well it’s not gone,” he tells me firmly,
and I can see a flicker of it burning behind the sadness in his eyes. “I’ll
always want you like that Coral, we just need to sit down and talk about the
dos and
dont’s;
so I don't fuck up in or out of the
bedroom.”

I take his gorgeous face in my hands and
kiss his full, warm lips, trying to reassure him. “You won't, I know you won't.
Besides you already know them, don’t say good girl, no tickling, no cameras in
the bedroom, and well…you don’t have a hairy chest so…” I close my eyes for a
moment, trying not to remember.

Tristan nods then drifts off again. “I
don’t like people touching me that I don’t know,” I whisper. Tristan’s body
stiffens, so I stop talking.
Do I really want him to know the depravity of
it all?

“Can I ask you something?” He asks wearily.
I nod in reply. “George said…the first time you were abused, you were in a
dress?” he says with difficulty.

“Yes,” I whisper. “My
favourite
dress,” I add.

“What happens when you put one on?” He
questions. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Shit, Coral I’m sorry you don’t have to…” He
stops and sighs heavily.

I open my eyes, take a deep breath and
blurt it out. “I feel…well I kind of…it starts with trembling, like my body is
going into freefall. I feel faint and nauseous, but the worse part about it is
the vulnerability. Like…I just feel exposed, like…like any man could slip his
hand under my dress and…” I break off and look up at Tristan; he looks like
he’s going to throw up. “Tristan, I’m so glad you know now, at least you can
share it with me as I try to get better, hold my hand through it.”

Tristan takes my hand in his and tenderly
kisses the back of it. “Always,” he softly whispers.

My heart melts, I think about making a
move, then I remember we can't as there’s no condoms, my heart sinks just
thinking about it, that’s something else I need to tell him.

Sighing heavily, I gaze back at Tristan,
debating again.

“I was thinking,” I tell him nervously.

“That’s dangerous!” He softly teases
smiling boyishly at me.

“Tristan!” I scold, playfully slapping his
shoulder, but I'm glad he’s got his sense of
humour
back, it would kill me if he was all moody and depressed about what he now
knows.

“I'm sorry. Please continue,” he says, tucking
my hair that’s fallen against my cheek behind my ear. It’s such a sweet gesture.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Now is not the time for laughter,” he adds, his hand
gently rubbing up and down my back – It’s so soothing.

I swallow hard and look up at him –
Come
on Coral!

“Well I was thinking I should tell you that
I don't like condoms,” I whisper. Which I don't, can't stand the things, but
I'm dodging the issue here, I know I am.

Tristan frowns down at me, his hand
stilling on my back. “Ok,” he says warily. I look away from his eyes and stare
at his chest.
Come on Coral be brave!

“We don’t have to use them,” I whisper
nervously, keeping my eyes fixed ahead.

“No?” He questions. “You...you want to try
for a kid?” he asks a little hesitantly.

“No.” I laugh nervously, glancing up at him
then fixing my eyes at his chest again.

“You want to use another form of
protection?” he asks quizzically.

“I can't conceive,” I croak swallowing hard
against the lump that’s formed.

Tristan’s frame goes rigid. He takes my
face in his hands and brushes my cheeks with his thumbs. “How do you know
that?” he asks softly, his eyes searching mine.

I chicken out again, and close my eyes, I’m
not sure if either of us can take much more.

“Coral, look at me baby,” his calm voice
commands. I open my eyes and look up into his warm, soulful eyes. “How do you
know?” he asks again.

“How do you think?” I tremble.

Tristan’s eyes widen with horror as he adds
it all up.

“I'm sorry,” I sniff, trying not to cry. “I
should have told you when we talked about it, but I chickened out. I was so
afraid you’d say you wanted children and because I can't, I’d lose you.”

Tristan sighs heavily, closes his eyes and
rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he tells me
firmly opening his eyes as he does. “Baby, I told you before, and I’ll tell you
again. You have me darling and I want you to be my wife, kids or no kids. I
want to marry you, and I want you to feel proud to call me your husband.”
Oh
Tristan!

“Are you sure though, have you had any
tests done?” he adds softly.

I nod my head at him. “Two years ago,
after...” I stop and we both look away from one another. I take another deep
breath and continue. “I went to the clinic, used a false name, I had to make
sure I was ok, that I hadn’t caught anything from
him
. The gynecologist
that examined me was concerned, said I showed massive internal scaring, he…he
questioned me about it, of course, you know me I wouldn’t give anything up, but
I was concerned, you know. So I made an appointment with the nurse, told her
very briefly that I was abused as a child and asked if it would affect me
having children. She said in most cases it’s psychological problems that
actually prevent the woman from conceiving, but you know me, I stamped my feet
and demanded an internal scan.” I squint as I remember the internal
examination.

“They examined me, scanned me and took
x-rays.” I stare down at my twisted fingers. “The doctor told me that he’s
never seen internal scarring like it.” I feel the tears start bubbling up to
the surface, my vision becoming more blurry. “He said my chances were one in a
million of conceiving, and that if I wanted children, I should look into
adoption.” I sniff loudly, and swipe at the silent tears, feeling angry that
I'm crying again.