Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1)) (18 page)

I ACHE IN muscles I didn’t know existed as I embrace the first stretch of the morning. The cotton sheets feel like silk and the bed is deep and luxurious, it takes only a moment to remember where I am. Not that I could confuse this bed with my own. I am, however, alone in the bed, the chill I feel is a stark contrast to the warm covers. I look at the indent of the pillow next to me, I think we barely moved at all last night, but Daniel has definitely moved now. The bathroom door is open and I can hear no movement, no running water, no sounds at all. I sit up and see that the clothes that were strewn across the floor are no longer there, well mine are. I sink back into the pillow. My hand rubs my temples to try and ease the pressure I know is about to build. Daniel has left. I take a deep breath and tell myself; ‘
it is what it is Bethany,
’ I did know that and I did want to do it anyway, pretty sure I begged on a few occasions. It was a quick fuck, and it was good, hell it was amazing. Sofia had said to listen to my body and I did and it was fun. End-of! So that
was
the worst that came from letting go for once. Move on Bets.

I swing my legs round and sit up but I flinch at the soreness and aches, I am tender everywhere. Then too quickly, the world falls away and my stomach rushes to my mouth. I run to the bathroom and quickly and noisily deposit the contents of my stomach. There isn’t much and I am left dry heaving, exhausting my already spent and tired muscles. I collapse on the floor and press my fevered head to the cool tiled floor. Oh God this can’t be happening. I stand on shaking legs and return to the bedroom slowly walking over to the sight that made me sick, makes me sick. There, on the nightstand, on top of my purse is cash, lots of cash. The tears that were waiting until I had finished throwing up, fall freely and silently. Of course
, this
is the worst that could happen. I have honestly never cared what anyone said about me, never really, and certainly not since John died but to think that Daniel has paid me for last night, rips my heart right out.

God I am such a fucking idiot. He took me to a hotel and not his apartment, I mean we actually had to drive past his place. He fucked me all night but never kissed me once on the lips and of course he didn’t want to know about my family, why would he? He had me for the night, he paid and he left. I look at the clock, its six thirty but London will be quiet this early on a Sunday and I need to be home, I need to
not
be here. I grab my dress and shoes, my panties and bra are under the bed. I quickly get dressed, tie my hair back and grab my bag. I look at the money. I don’t know how much is there and I can’t bear to think how much I was worth because at this moment I think a penny would be too much. He still has to check out so if I leave the money he will think something is wrong, understatement of the year, but the last thing I want is to keep a door open for him now and leaving the money would do that for sure. He believes I would take money for sex, let him. I take the money, transaction complete, clean, simple, brutal. I grab the cash and leave the room.

I make my way to the stairs, I am less likely to run into other guests that way. I also make my way to the staff entrance and slip out of the cargo doors which are open for deliveries. I cross the road and on to the Embankment pathway. I feel like I am going to be sick again and I put my head to my knees and take some deep breaths. I start to walk toward the tube station. I notice sitting on the steps of one of the many monuments’ that dot the Thames, a homeless woman wrapped in a torn sleeping bag. Curled up next to the bags that probably contain everything she owns is a dog, some sort of terrier by the scruff of its coat. I sit next to her as she sleeps; her dog gets over excited and jumps on to my lap and starts licking profusely at my fingers. She starts to wake and slowly sits up, she frowns and then smiles picking up her dog and placing it back in her arms.

“Sorry he’s a little over friendly.” She has a rough cough when she speaks.

“He’s kind of sweet, very friendly . . . my names Bethany, Bets to my friends.” I would smile but I can’t make those muscles work for me right now.

“I’m Ruth and this is Buddy. It’s a little early to be dressed like that honey.” She laughs but it’s a friendly laugh and I’m hardly in any position to take offence. I take my hand from my bag, it’s still gripping Daniels cash. “I’d like you to have this, I don’t know how much is here but if it’s more than you need.” I sniff out a sad laugh at the irony of what I have just said and a shameful smile briefly flashes across my face. “I’m sorry, it’s just, you know if you want to share, look anyway it’s yours.” I press the money into her hand and walk away. I don’t look back but ahead I notice the bright yellow light on top of a taxi. I honestly don’t remember how I got home, I don’t remember getting in the shower and I don’t remember getting undressed. Which is why I am sobbing, fully clothed on the floor of the staff shower. The sound of the water drowns the noise of the bone shaking sobs that wrack my body. I search my mind for a time when my heart didn’t ache, a time when I wasn’t so lonely.

The sun is streaming through my bedroom curtains and I would wake instantly, throw my covers to the wall. It was the first day of the school summer holidays and I know he’s going to be waiting for me. I would grab whatever clothes I could find, cut up jean shorts, t-shirt and plimsolls and run down stairs. If my mum was working she would be gone by this time, if not she’d still be in bed. I would pour a glass of milk and search the cupboards for food I could stuff in my pockets and some extra for John, he never ate breakfast. I would open the back door quietly and leave it on the latch so I could get back in later when everyone was out. I would race round the side of the house. He would be sitting on my front door step, waiting, picking at the flaking paint on the door frame. Hearing me he would look up, tap his arm where a watch should be. It was just after dawn.

At fourteen he had just started to get a little taller than me, he had dark chocolate brown hair and darker eyes. The first day of primary school, when my sister refused to hold my hand and take me into the playground, John had walked up to me and said the he would ‘take care of me,’ he was six years old . Every summer had been the same for as long as I could remember. Some days we would just wander the lanes, sometimes we would venture into the playground but really we preferred our own company. He had a bike and when it didn’t have a puncture I would sit on the back and he would peddle. That way we could go further afield and I loved that sense of freedom. I remember one hot summer the long grass in the playing fields at the end of my road had been cut and we spent all morning gathering it up. We piled it high as a mountain underneath a willow tree that had split and bent in half from old age. One of the thick branches curved high over a stream and into the field. We spent the afternoon in the blistering heat climbing high and flinging our little bodies with fear and delight into the freshly cut grass, only tiring when dusk gave way to the night time. My mother had shouted at John that night as I came home covered in grass cuts and nettle rash. The next day I was bed ridden with sun stroke. I had had the best day.

John had been distant the day after and when I pushed him to find out why, he had just said he shouldn’t have let me get hurt, it was his responsibility to take care of me. I thought he was mad.

On the rare occasions I would call for him I was always nervous. I would knock on his door and run to the end of the path, but one day I heard shouting coming from his back yard, I was sixteen at the time. I could hear Vince, Johns’ older brother taking the piss about him for being a virgin, having a little bitch of a girlfriend but never getting to fuck her. I could see the fury in John’s face even from my distance and my heart started racing. Vince called him, “chicken shit” and said he only had to ask me, hell you didn’t even have to ask my sister he said; she’d fuck you for a fiver he laughed and went on to say your little bitch will be exactly the same. John flew at him and knocked him to the ground.

I screamed and ran throwing myself on top of the pile of fighting bodies. I pulled and pulled to break their fighting arms and managed to get between them. John instantly stepped back, I knew he would, he wouldn’t risk hurting me. I grabbed his hand and led him away. I could hear Vince’s caustic laughter but I didn’t look back. I took John’s bike that was leaning against the garden wall and told him to take a seat. I rode a while heading to the edge of the village, under the motorway bridge. My legs burned with the weight of two teenagers but I wanted to take him somewhere peaceful. I wanted to go to our lagoon.

When we first started to roam further afield we found this tranquil place that didn’t look like it belonged in this world. It was a small shallow lake surrounded with over hanging trees which hid it from the road and kept it completely in the shade. The banks of the water were soft sand and if you lay on the shore and looked to the canopy, a million shards of sunlight broke through the foliage; it looked like a fairies glen, magical. That was when we were little, now it was just somewhere quiet to take John so he could calm down. John had taken a beating from his brother before so I knew he wasn’t hurt but I had never seen him look so angry. I tried to laugh a little attempting to lighten the mood. I said it didn’t matter what people said, he could tell Vince and everyone that he fucked me, it didn’t matter, it was nothing. He turned his head and his eyes looked so beautiful but I could see the tears he was holding. He held my face and told me I wasn’t my sister, could never be like her and it
did
matter. If
it
was nothing then that made me nothing and that wasn’t true, I wasn’t nothing, I was everything.

I had started college and John was doing an IT apprenticeship which meant he spent one day each week at my college, he would meet me on the bus and we’d walk home together. It was the end of the Christmas term and I had stayed after class to have a Christmas drink and only just missed my bus. The one I did manage to get was only twenty minutes later but it turned out that it was twenty minutes too long. I started to walk up the dark footpath that cut across the back of the fields to the small group of houses where I lived. The street lamp was ineffective and the darkness meant I didn’t see him straight away. It looked like a drunk had settled against the fencing and slumped over and had fallen asleep but as I got close I saw his trainers and recognised his dark green jacket. I dropped my bag and ran the last few metres, kneeling at his side and holding his head in my hands.

John had his eyes closed and as I pulled one hand away from his hair my fingers were sticky, slippery and warm. My hands are covered in the dark red liquid and I look up to see the five inch rusty crooked nail poking from the splintered fence post. The nail was glossy and slowly dripped the same liquid onto the damp ground. I cried his name and he opened his eyes, the rich dark brown now a dull black in the poor light. I couldn’t focus for the tears streaming my eyes, trying to get him to speak, I didn’t know what to do, I asked him what to do? His face was swollen with dirt ground into his cheek and his jacket was ripped. His fists were clenched and there was blood on his knuckles, but it was the blood gushing down his neck that caused the heart wrenching sob to escape my lips, there was so much blood. It had started to rain and I remember his eyes warm as he recognised me. Tiny droplets of rain were suspended on his thick lashes as he closed his lids. He smiled and he told me again what he told me that day at the lagoon. That I wasn’t like her, that I wasn’t nothing, I was everything; he kept repeating; I wasn’t nothing. He’d fought for me again but this time I wasn’t there to stop him. I couldn’t hold him tight enough. I shouted for help, I screamed. I didn’t have a phone to call for help and I couldn’t leave him. The world fell silent; it was silent for so long and I was so cold when I finally heard the footsteps.

The nearness of the footsteps wakes me, my body is still heaving with unshed sobs and I am so cold my bones ache. My sore eyes open through the water that continues to stream over my head and down my back. I look up to where the noise is coming from. There is a loud banging on the door followed by the sound of splintering wood and a crash as the door to the staff shower flies open and Daniel fills the doorway.