That One Moment

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Caiden

“ M um? I’m here. They said they can’t keep the table for much longer.” The restaurant is crowded and the waiter keeps eyeing my table, making another lap around before coming back over to see if I’m ready to order. I’ve been sitting here for an hour. Alone. The red tablecloth, white roses, fluttering candles and silverware remind me that this place is far out of my budget. Instrumental Christmas music plays softly through the speakers but I tune it out along with the happy sounds of other diners.

“Oh! Caidy. I’m sooooo sorry.” Mum drags out the word ‘so’ and I already know what she’s going to say before the words leave her mouth. “Roger got tickets to see a Pink Floyd cover band and they’re incredible. I didn’t want to miss it. Next week, okay?”

Next week won’t be my birthday. I stand abruptly from the table and throw down a few notes for a tip and the one drink I had, lay my coat over my arm and storm out of the restaurant. Despite the cold, I hastily undo the buttons of my shirt and shrug it off, feeling like I can breathe better without it.

“Why didn’t you let me know earlier? I’ve been waiting for you for an hour!” I try not to let my anger show, gritting my teeth as I speak. My breath rides away on a cloud of mist as my mother tuts at me on the other end of the line.

“God, no need to get snippy, Caidy, it was just dinner.”

It was my birthday dinner. It wasn’t just any dinner.

As I walk down the tree lined avenue that runs between the restaurant and the main high street, coming up to the entrance to a park, I bang my hand against my head, inwardly berating myself for once again putting so much hope in my mother.

“Anyway Caidy,” I hate that fucking nickname. “I have to go, the band is coming on soon and Roger wants to get some beers first.” She hangs up the phone before I can say anything. The sad part about this is that Roger isn't even the same guy she abandoned me for last time we were meant to meet.

My stomach swoops, my hands tingle and I want to rip my hair from my head so I can feel something other than rejection. The dark pit that opens up inside me every single fucking time she does this, rumbles, threatening to suck me in. I hate myself for not being stronger, for needing her approval and her love. Why can’t I be more like Cooper? He brushed her off years ago and he’s happy . I don’t know when I last felt happy. In less than five hours, I’ll be twenty years old and still craving my mother’s attention like a stupid, pathetic little child.

A light rain starts to fall and the tickle of water on my face makes me shiver. I stop to put on my coat, hugging myself and rubbing at my arms to warm me up. Taking in my surroundings, it’s as though I’ve been walking in a daze, because I have no idea where I am. But worse than that, I have no idea where I’m going.

People will only disappoint you , that’s what my mum told me time and time again, so I keep everyone except Cooper at arm’s length. Which means there isn’t anyone I can call. No friends I can rely on. My brother has his boyfriend and I know they had plans tonight, and my father - I shake my head, not wanting to think about him and his perfect new family. Why couldn’t he have treated my mother the way he treats Maria? Then none of this would be happening. Mum wouldn’t be picking some guy she met in a bar over me, Cooper would never have met Jamie and I wouldn’t be walking alone through a park, wishing I had something sharp to help take away this feeling.

I’m spiraling, choking, drowning. Sinking down into a darkness I am afraid, one day, I will never climb out of. My chest tightens and my skin itches. If I allow myself this, just one more time, I know I’ll feel better. More in control. Less like a fisherman lost at sea.

Leaning my back against a tree, I slide my hand into my jeans, feeling around my thigh for a more recent cut. Most of them have scarred over, but there’s a few that haven’t healed fully. Finding one particularly tender spot, I sink my nail into it and wince at the pain. It shoots through me and all my focus lasers in on the burn. A few tears fall, the night air cooling their trail down my cheek.

I’m in control. I’m in control. I’m in control.

Rapid breaths pass my lips in desperate little pants and I scrunch my eyes closed against the bone deep ache in my body. Behind my closed lids, in the dark of my mind, a memory flashes, unwanted and unbidden.

I’m ten years old and my mother is packing her bags on the bed. A floral duvet lies at the foot of it as she moves from her cupboards back to the bags, throwing clothing and toiletries in. The room smells like smoke and I scrunch my nose, wondering why I can’t smell her perfume like I usually can.

“Where are we going, Mummy?” I ask, looking around for the little blue suitcase I use when we go away, frowning when I don’t see it.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying with Dad. Mummy is going away.” Okay, I tell myself. This is okay because she always comes back. Mummy goes away for work, but she always comes home.

“Will you be back in time for my school play next week?” I’m playing Peter Pan. She told me it’s her favourite book, so I tried really hard to get the part, to make her happy.

She looks at me and I can’t work out the look in her eyes. Maybe it's happiness? Because of my part in the play. Or excitement because she’s so proud of me. She shakes her head and sighs the same way she does whenever Cooper gets ill or when the dog does its business on the carpet.

“No, I don’t think Mummy is coming back this time, not to this house anyway.” Her words are confusing to my little brain. She’s my mum, why wouldn’t she come back? Tears well in my eyes and drip onto the sheets as I crawl over her bed. “Jesus, don’t cry. You’ll be fine. I'll take you for burgers sometime okay?”

“Please don't go, Mummy. I'll be so sad if you miss Peter Pan.” I try really hard to find the words to make her stay, but I’m only ten and the only big thing I can think of is Peter Pan and that’s not working.

“Oh, Caidy, people are going to make you sad your whole life. Trust me. The only person you can depend on is you.”

Nothing I said changed her mind and a day later she was gone, popping back in at random points in my childhood. Sometimes, when the water is closing over my head, I think that life would have been better if she had never come back at all. That if she hadn’t kept contact with me for the last ten years, sprinkling me with little dashes of hope, that maybe things would be easier.

That day was the first time I ever felt like my world was spinning out of control.

I’m in control. I repeat to myself over and over again as blood starts to drip down my fingers. The warm liquid leaving my body is a physical manifestation of my pain. The tension in my chest eases and I choke on a breath as I do it one more time in another spot until my muscles stop clenching and I feel like I can breathe again.

Guilt as powerful as the pain gnaws at my stomach when the moment has passed, and my twin's smiling face comes to mind. I promised him I’d stop hurting myself and I did. For a while, at least. Until my dad said he was getting married. Until my mother laughed about it and said she hoped he was a better husband this time. Until once again I felt like I was spinning out of control.

It’s fucked up, I know it, but I don’t know what else to do. Some days the world overwhelms me and this is my only reprieve. This or… I shake my head against the thought. No matter how much my life sucks, no matter how many times I close my eyes and wish the world would stop spinning, I could never leave Cooper.

Pulling my hand from my jeans, I wipe the blood on the damp grass then pull out my phone, resigned to the fact that I’ll have to either disturb him or go home where I know Dad will level me with his usual look of concern when he finds out that Mum stood me up. Again. He'll be waiting for me to crash, because I always do. Cooper is no different though, I see the pity in his eyes everytime he gathers the broken shards of me off the floor. I see it, I hate it but I'm powerless to change, always stuck on this hamster wheel.

Before I have a chance to call anyone though, I notice a group chat I’m in is going off with loads of notifications. Scrolling through, I see that Alison someone - not sure we’ve met - is having a party at her parents' place a few roads over from the university campus. Suddenly, I know where I'm headed.

It’s the perfect distraction.

There’s a few people I recognise, a few who wave when they see me but I don’t stop to talk, instead, making a beeline for the bar. It’s been set up in the kitchen and it looks like Alison or her parents, who must be bankrolling this party, have gone overboard. My drink of choice is vodka and I mix myself one with some lime and water before taking a few shots neat. The bitter liquid burns as it goes down but I don’t stop until I’ve had three and there’s a nice buzz in my blood. I mull around for a while, making my way to the basement where some kids are playing spin the bottle, while others watch.

I have only one plan for the evening - to drink until the pit in my stomach eases and the darkness hovering over me recedes. It's a simple plan that's worked before.

You'll just end up needing Cooper to rescue you, I think to myself, but the guilt isn't strong enough to stop me, not right now.

Some guys in t-shirts with their university logo on are playing beer pong and I sidle up to one - he’s tall, broad shouldered, with shaggy, dirty blond hair and a five o’clock shadow. He stills when he senses me next to him, his brown eyes raking up and down my body before coming to meet my eyes.

“Can I join you?” I ask, gesturing to the game. He licks his lips then looks at the other guys before nodding. “Sure, I’m already partnered up with Sam,” he points to a dark haired guy who is currently opening two bottles of beer then gestures towards a good looking brunet guy leaning against the wall with a joint in hand. “But Blake needs a partner, so join him?”

Blake smiles when I get closer and hands me the joint. I inhale deeply, letting it burn my lungs, before exhaling. My body feels light and as I walk over to take my turn at the table, I sway a little, laughing as I picture myself on a cloud. My game partner raises an amused brow at me as I take aim and miss the table entirely.

“Oops,” I say, downing one of our red cups. Blake doesn’t look impressed but the blond is watching me from his side of the table with a lopsided smile.

The other team completely annihilates us, and by the time I take my last shot and miss all the cups they still have standing, Blake throws up his hands, completely exasperated.

“Dude,” he says. “Have you ever actually played this before? You were so bad, I don’t even…” he shakes his head. “No, nope, I need a new partner.” His words are slurred and a laugh hiccups out of me again because fuck, I really do suck at beer pong. I don’t tell him it’s only my second time playing or that I have very poor hand/eye coordination, especially after all the drinks.

The world tips left, then right, then spins on its axis and my eyes struggle to focus so I grab onto the table to stop myself from falling.

“You alright there, bud?” The blond guy from earlier grips my arm. He smells like weed and beer, and a little sweaty but there’s also a lingering smell of coffee or something herby there. I can’t make it out but I lean in closer.

“I’m fine. You smell interesting.” My nose is pressed to his neck and though it's probably inappropriate, I kiss the skin there.

He chuckles, but instead of pushing me off him, I feel my feet move as he pulls me along, up the stairs and down the corridor, pausing in the kitchen.

“Shot?” he asks, then hands me a glass containing a hazel liquid. My head is hazy but I'm conscious enough to know I should probably quit drinking. I take the shot. Then the next one and then one more.

Swaying on my feet, I grip the kitchen counter and hang my head, willing the world to just stop. Blond guy takes my arm and wordlessly starts dragging me back down the dim corridor. Everything goes by in a blur, the music is loud and it hurts my head. My stomach turns and I can feel all the alcohol swishing inside it, reminding me that I never actually ate in the end.

“I’m going to take you somewhere private, that okay?” The guy holding me up asks and I nod. He places a hand on the small of my back, then slides it down and squeezes my ass. My dick twitches, taking an interest in his attention, though it's a fleeting bolt of arousal, drowned out by the ache in my stomach. We reach a small, neatly made up bedroom, and the guy pushes me in, then turns and locks the door.

A laugh works its way up my throat even though nothing is funny, and I put a hand out to steady myself against the wall. The room is dimly lit and the bed in the center of it looks so inviting.

“What’s your name?” My words slur and my legs threaten to give out, but the guy catches me and hauls me against his solid chest.

“You can call me Kyle,” he says, then he slams his lips against mine and my head hits the wall with a crack. Kyle’s kiss is sloppy, his tongue fighting for entry into my mouth as his hands work hastily to undo my jeans. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and stale beer and I don’t like it at all. He pulls down my zipper and starts pushing at my boxers. My cock is not hard and I don’t want this. I want to leave.

“Please stop,” I beg. It’s like he doesn’t hear me though as he pulls my soft cock out of my boxers. I move my hands to come between us and he grips them roughly then holds them above my head in one of his.

“Don’t be like that, you came in here with me. You wanted me.” Using his free hand, he undoes his jeans and pulls out his rock hard cock. It brushes against mine and I cringe. I don’t like guys touching my dick. I don’t like them sucking me or getting anywhere near my thighs. If I let them fuck me, it’s always from behind and never when it’s light enough for them to see my skin. But I don’t want that now.

Tears well in my eyes as Kyle takes both our cocks in his hand and starts jacking them together. The feel of his heat where I don't want it makes me jerk, my hands and my stomach muscles tense, begging me to curl into myself. But, his grip on my hands is too tight, my body his prisoner against the wall. He starts kissing my neck and rubbing his stubble roughly against my skin before he bites at me like the predator that he is.

“Please don’t do this.” Tears pour down my cheeks, but he doesn’t stop. He’s working our cocks harder and faster and it hurts, the dry friction against my soft cock hurts. “Stop, please, please,” I beg and beg and keep begging but all I’m doing is angering him. And turning him on until his hold on me is so painful, I feel it in my whole body.

Kyle drops our cocks and my hands and I breathe a short lived sigh of relief before he grips me roughly around the neck. “You wanted this, you came on to me then willingly followed me here.” His nostrils flare as he speaks and he squeezes tighter. My vision starts to blur, black dots dancing on the periphery. I gasp and scratch at his hands, feeling the skin give way beneath my nails but he doesn't even flinch.

I want to go home. My mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water as I beg for both air and for him to stop.

“That’s it, cry for me. No one will hear you and your tears make me so fucking hard.”

No one will hear me and no one will rescue me.

Kyle spins me around and shoves my face into the wall, holding me there while he pulls my jeans down over my ass. He spits, the hot liquid hitting my skin, and then I feel his cock resting in my crease. “I’m not going to fuck you. I don’t know where your dirty ass has been,” he whispers into my ear. It’s not the tender whisper of a lover - not that I’d know what that’s like - but rather the voice of evil. Kyle spits again and with one hand still holding my face, he ruts between my ass cheeks until he’s spilling his cum over my lower back.

Sometime during the whole ordeal, my tears dried up and I let my brain take me somewhere else, away from here. In my mind, I’m with Cooper, and we’re swimming, laughing as we dunk each other in the waves.

Kyle spins me around and I’m forced to bring myself back into the room. Disappointment that I'm here and not safe with my twin twists in my gut, and the burning taste of shame coats my throat as I try in vain to swallow away a fresh wave of tears.

My jeans are around my ankles, Kyle’s cum is cooling on my back and my legs have turned to jelly. He grips my t-shirt as he barks out, “Do not tell anyone about this, I’m not like you. I’m not gay.” Poorly timed laughter slips from my lips as more tears fall, the sound hysterical, and I fall sideways, my top ripping as he tries to hold me.

He gives up, dropping me so I land in a heap on the floor. Then he adjusts his jeans and leaves the room. My stomach churns and I lean over and empty the sad contents right onto the carpet.

I don't know what to do, so I just lay with my face on the ground while my heart tries to escape my body. After a while of listening to the muffled sounds of the party, I sit back up and stare at the bed. A sense of calm - no not calm - a numbness washes over me. I detach myself from what just happened as I stand up and head back out to the party, using the walls to guide my unsteady steps.

Wandering around, I know I should go. I should wash this man off of me, but that empty, lost feeling is overwhelming me again so instead, I plaster on a fake smile and stay. There's a voice inside me that says I should report what he did but that feels far too exhausting and I'd rather just forget.

Someone offers me a drink and I take it, downing it in one go. Then, I take photos with people I don’t know. When Kyle joins the group I eye him warily, but I say nothing and he doesn't acknowledge me.

I'm swaying between a crowd of bodies when a soft, warm hand lands on my arm. I flinch, turning around to glare at the dark haired girl standing in front of me. I know this girl, she’s familiar. Herb . I shake my head, no that’s not right. Ginger . Sage. Her name is Sage.

“Caiden? Are you okay?” Why do people always ask me this? I haven’t been okay in a very long time. I nod anyway, because lying is so much easier. Sometimes I think lies are just that much kinder than the truth.

Sage steps closer so I can hear her over the music. “You don’t look okay, what happened to your shirt? And your neck?” She goes to touch the tender flesh but I bat her away. Knowing I sound petulant when I tell her to leave me alone.

“Look, I get that you don’t want my help.” She’s wrong. I want her help, I want someone’s help. I don’t want to feel this broken. “But I know it’s your birthday tomorrow and your brother is excited to spend the day with you. Jamie told me all your plans, do you really want to ruin that by being too hungover?”

Guilt, my dear friend that always threatens to drown me when I think of my twin and how often I let him down, washes over me and my head falls. “Okay,” I whisper, and I let her and the guy she's with lead me out of the party. I don’t know where we’re going but it doesn’t matter because for this little bit of time, I’m going to trust that she won’t hurt me and even if she does, she wouldn’t be the first person tonight to do so. She wouldn't even be the second.