Fighting to be Free by Kirsty Moseley (43 page)

Behind the tough, scary act that he was putting forth trying to frighten me away from him, his eyes were begging me to stay, to love him unconditionally.

I raised my hand and gripped his wrist, pulling his hand away from my throat as I shook my head.

“Stop it, Jamie. It’s not gonna work. Now just tell me what you should have told me six months ago, and stop trying to scare me away from you so that you don’t have to deal with it,” I ordered.

His face softened as he looked at me shocked. It was almost as if he honestly thought I was going to run out of here screaming. He closed his eyes as I slid my hand down his arm to take his hand, squeezing gently in prompt. It didn’t really matter what he said next, I’d already made up my mind; his past was his past and had no bearing on the future that I still envisioned us having. Looking at the boy standing in front of me, I didn’t see a murderer, instead I saw marriage and babies; I saw grandchildren, grey hair and anniversary parties. Yes I wanted to know the truth, but only so that nothing could ever come between us again.

“I love you, Jamie, but no more secrets. Stop shutting me out, please,” I begged.

He groaned, putting his forehead against mine, his breath blowing across my lips as he breathed that little bit too fast. His other hand that was still wrapped around my throat, moved to the side, cupping my neck instead, his thumb stroking my cheek softly.

“It’s bad, Ellie,” he whispered.

I nodded, trying to prepare myself once and for all to hear about his past. I was confident in the knowledge that whatever came out of his mouth, I was doomed to be in love with him regardless.

I wrapped my free arm around his waist, clamping him to me as he spoke. “Ralf Montgomery. He was my mom’s pimp, and the prick who killed my little sister right in front of me, that’s who I murdered.”

I held my breath as I digested his words. First off, his mom was a prostitute? And secondly, her pimp had killed Jamie’s sister, right in front of him? He was a fourteen year old boy and he’d watched his sister get murdered? I didn’t know what to feel more, horror at the whole situation, or pity because no one should have to see anything like that and his past was going to be a hell of a lot worse than I could have possibly imagined. I tightened my arm on his waist, clamping him to me as his uneven breath blew across my face.

“Oh God, Jamie, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, feeling my chin tremble as I struggled not to burst into tears for him.

He nodded, pulling back, his eyes dropping to the floor. I’d never seen anyone look so sad and defeated in my life, it was gut wrenching to see such a strong and beautiful person have so much pain etched across their face. “So there you go. Happy to be included now?” he asked harshly.

My mouth dropped open in shock as he pulled away from me quickly and turned his back on me, his back stiff as he fisted both hands into his hair. I didn’t know what to say. Yes I was happy to be included because I wanted to be included in every part of his life, but in another way heck no I wished I didn’t know that information. I had a feeling that what he was going to tell me about his childhood was going to make me cry myself to sleep for days when I thought about what he’d been put through.

Because I had no words, I did the only thing I could think of. I stepped closer to him and pressed my face into his shoulder blades, breathing him in, my arms circling around his waist. I felt his stomach muscles tense under my hands as he drew in a sharp breath. I got the distinct impression he was still kind of hoping that I’d tell him I wasn’t interested in him anymore now that I was getting to the truth. It would probably be easier for him if I was to walk out of here; he wouldn’t have to relive it again as he spoke about it. But I wasn’t going to make it that easy on him, I would stand here and hold him for as long as it took for him to realise that he was stuck with me regardless.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked quietly, my voice muffled because my face was still pressed against his hard back.

“Ellie, what difference does it make? He killed her so I killed him, that’s all there is to it,” he mumbled.

I shook my head and moved in front of him, not letting him out of the cage that I’d made with my arms, I didn’t want him to run away and clam up again. He just needed to let me past his boundaries. “That’s not all there is to it, there’s more, much more, I can tell. Please? I love you, Jamie, I want to help you and it’s not good for you to keep all that stuff bottled up inside you, you’ll go crazy,” I whispered, gripping my hands on the back of his shirt as I tried to look in his eyes, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. “You can talk to me. You can tell me anything,” I encouraged.

He gulped and closed his eyes. There was a tightness to his mouth that I longed to kiss away and make him smile again. I hated to see him so sad and defeated. “Fine,” he finally sighed, his arms dropping to his sides as he gripped my wrists and unwrapped my arms from his waist. “Let’s go sit down then or something.” He didn’t wait for me as he let go of my hands and stalked away into the lounge.

I took a couple of deep breaths and looked at the ceiling, willing myself not to cry. I had a feeling that me being upset was going to make this whole thing harder for him to get through, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hold it together indefinitely. When my fried nerves seemed to be under control, I turned and followed after him into the lounge. I just about had time to notice that the room was bare apart from a few things scattered here and there. He’d already put most of his stuff into storage, all he had left out was his clothes and what came with the apartment when he rented it, the room looked so empty.

I chewed on my lip as my gaze settled on him. He’d sat on the sofa, his shoulders slumped, his head in his hands. My weary legs carried me over to him and I plopped down in the space next to him, looking at him sympathetically. I didn’t know what to say or do to make him feel better so I stayed silent. It wasn’t long before he started talking.

“My dad died when I was two, so it was always just me and my mum on our own. Things were hard on her, she had no qualifications or anything so she started sleeping with guys for money. She’d bring them back to the house and I’d get locked in my room so that I couldn’t interrupt or anything.

I didn’t really know what was going on at the time, it was only as I got older that I realised what she was doing,” he said, cringing, his hands fisting in his hair. “She got pregnant. I don’t know who Sophie’s dad was; no one ever stuck around so I assume it was one of her clients.”

His eyes flicked to me and I tried to keep my expression neutral even though I was crying on the inside. His voice was so full of pain already that it was hurting me to listen to it. I nodded encouragingly. I wanted to take his hand but my body was frozen in place, just waiting for the rest of it. My eyes flicked to one of his scars on his neck, you could only just see it under the collar of his t-shirt. Silently I wondered how it got there, how he got all of the marks that were on his body.

“I was seven when she was born and from that day I had to grow up quickly. My mom, she never bonded with Soph, she never held her for longer than necessary, never smiled at her. Even at the age of seven I knew something was wrong so I tried to be the best brother in the world so that it’d make up for the fact that my mom never seemed to want to be in the same room as her.”

I gulped and tried not to hate his mom but the more he spoke the more I wondered how a person such as her could birth an amazing person like Jamie.

“I used to play with her all the time, feed her and change her and stuff. I made it into a kind of game, and we got through it. When Soph was about one, things got worse. My mom started taking drugs; I didn’t know that was the reason for the change at the time but looking back on it now I think she was addicted to cocaine.” He blew out a big breath and shook his head. “That was about the time that she kind of forgot she even had two kids. She was barely home in the nights or weekends, I was eight and I’d be left home alone with Sophie. She’d forget to buy food, or she’d not have the money for it because she’d wasted the food money on drugs. During the week I used to get Sophie dressed and give her breakfast, then I’d put her in her crib and go to school. When I’d come home she’d still be in there, her diaper dirty where I hadn’t been there to change it.

Sometimes her bum would get so sore that it would bleed and I wouldn’t know what to do about it.

Know what though? She didn’t even cry when she was left in there all day. It was kind of like she knew that no one would come and get her so she never bothered. The whole time my mom would just be passed out on the sofa or working.”

“Oh God, Jamie,” I mumbled. My eyes prickled with tears imagining an eight year old boy trying to be a dad to a one year old baby while his mom spent their money on drugs. It was horrifying.

He smiled weakly, still not meeting my eyes. “I was eight and a half when I first broke the law,” he stated. “I went to the local store and I stole a loaf of bread and a lump of cheese so that I could feed my baby sister.” He hung his head as if he was ashamed to admit that or something.

The lump in my throat seemed to get bigger as I struggled to swallow. Suddenly my body seemed to thaw out and I could move. I scooted closer to him on the sofa and put my hand on the back of his head, resting my chin on his shoulder, looking at the ceiling so that the tears wouldn’t fall. His body was trembling against mine and I realised that I’d never hated anyone as much as I hated his mother for letting him go through all of that. He’d never even had a childhood. There was most people at eight years old probably having a strop because they wanted the latest GI Joe, but the eight year old Jamie was stealing food to feed himself and his sister.

“Sophie was an amazing kid. She was so happy, so loving and adorable. I did everything I could to keep her safe and smiling. I’d steal practically everything she needed, food, clothes, medicine. My mom was barely around so it was just us really.” His voice broke when he was talking about what an amazing kid his sister was, I could hear the agony in his tone.

“Why didn’t you tell someone? A teacher or something?” I asked quietly.

He snorted and shook his head. “I couldn’t. I knew that we’d be taken and put into care or something, and I didn’t want to lose my sister. I knew they’d split us up and that I’d never see her. I couldn’t have that. I was scared to be alone, I guess I was selfish in that respect and I should have thought about what was best for her in the long run, but I selfishly thought that I was what was best for her. I wish I’d told someone now though, maybe if I had done then she’d be alive. Hindsight can sometimes give you nightmares,” he replied sadly.

I gripped my hand on the back of his head and pressed myself to him tighter. “You aren’t selfish, Jamie. Jeez, don’t ever think that!” I said fiercely as a lone tear escaped down my cheek.

He turned his head and his eyes finally met mine for the first time since this whole revelation began.

“Ellie, don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t need your pity looks,” he said fiercely.

My fingers twisted into the back of his hair as I pressed my forehead to his and squeezed my eyes shut. “Jamie, you can’t stop me from feeling these things. Of course it’s going to upset me that you went through all that because I love you. If I told you these things about my childhood; would you be able to stop yourself from feeling sorry for me?” I asked incredulously.

He sighed, his warm breath caressing my cheek and ruffling my hair at my neck. “I guess not.”

I sniffed and nodded, pulling back and resting my chin on his shoulder again. We were almost at the worst part now; I just needed to brace myself for the impact. “Who was the guy that killed her?” I asked.

His body seemed to tighten when I asked that, his jaw snapped shut with an audible click as his hands tightened into fists as they rested on his knees. “My mom got with Ralf when I was ten. They kind of dated but he used to pimp her out too. He moved in with us and things got better in some ways and worse in others.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, not really sure if I wanted to know the answer.

He shrugged. “At least there was food in the house once he moved in.”

I narrowed my eyes trying to work out his detached tone that had slipped into that answer. “What got worse?” I questioned. He groaned and looked at me pleadingly, as if he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Jamie, please? What got worse?” I repeated.

“Ralf was a sick assh0le. He…. he got off on hurting people. Me especially,” he answered.

“He was the one that-” I couldn’t say it, so I traced my finger on a small round burn mark that he had on the back of his neck.

He nodded, seeming to look anywhere but me. “Yeah. He used to like it. You understand what I mean by that?” he asked.

Like it
….

“Oh God,” I muttered, as I realised what he was talking about.

Jamie nodded again, shrugging me off of him as he stood up, rubbing on hand on his arm as if he was cold. “Yeah, he’d get drunk and she’d be off earning him cash, so he’d have a little fun by kicking the crap out of me. After, he’d tell me to clean up my wounds and stuff and he’d watch me do it and…. touch himself.” Images of that seemed to flood my brain and it I was right earlier, this information was definitely going to make me cry myself to sleep for weeks.

“Did he ever,” I took a deep breath before finishing that sentence, “touch you?” My voice came out too high pitched as horror and anger seemed to build up inside. Bile rose in my throat as I wondered how much worse this conversation was going to get.

Jamie shook his head quickly and I breathed a sigh of relief. “No. He just used to like it when I was in pain. Thankfully he never paid much attention to Sophie, well, not until the day she died anyway,” he practically growled the last part. “I hated him so fucking much, Ellie. I used to dream about fighting back, about taking the knife that he used to have clipped on his belt, and ramming it through his heart. But I couldn’t because things were better for Sophie with him there, so I just let it go on.”