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One hundred and one. Sephy

 

 

Lying on my back, I concentrated on breathing regularly. In. Out. In. Out. The pain in my lower abdomen was less than it had been but it was still sharp. My eyes closed and, still forcing myself to breathe in a slow, regular pattern, I moved my hand in a circular motion over my abdomen below my navel.

‘What’s the matter?’

My hand slowed for a moment but did not stop. I turned to lie on my side, my face averted, my eyes now open and wary.

‘Sephy, what’s the matter?’ Callum moved further into the room to stand beside my bed.

‘It’s nothing. Go away.’

I kept my back towards him. Even if I’d been ordered and chastised, I couldn’t have looked at Callum. To look at him would be to weep and scream and beg. And I wasn’t going to do any of those things. Ever. I’d never give him the satisfaction. He was one of them now. My Callum was dead. The mattress sank where Callum sat down. Neither of us spoke. I continued to rub my abdomen. Slow, circular strokes. If only this pain in my stomach would ease – just for a second. Callum’s brother must’ve really enjoyed that thump he gave me. From the continuing feel of it, he’d put his whole heart and soul into it. And my finger was as sore as blazes. Every time I stretched it out, the wound opened up again. Between them, the McGregor boys had really sorted me out.

Without warning, my hand was moved away from my body and moments later, Callum’s hand replaced it. I turned to Callum, eyes wide with shock. I tried to push his hand away. Gently but firmly, Callum placed my hand at my side and continued rubbing my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe. My heart slammed against my ribs as I stared at my captor.

‘What’re you doing?’ I whispered.

‘You’re hurting.’

‘Like you care.’

At first I thought that Callum wasn’t going to reply.

‘I care,’ he said at last.

‘Then let me go. Please.’

‘I can’t.’

Ashamed of myself for having asked, I tried to turn my head away, but Callum’s restraining hand on my cheek stopped me. He carried on rubbing my stomach. We watched each other in a silence that surrounded us like a bubble of barbed wire. There was no outside, no sight, no sound. The world was reduced to the room we were in. Time was condensed to the moments that passed between us.

‘I love you,’ Callum said softly.

‘Then let me go. Please . . .’

Callum’s finger on my lips stilled the words. ‘I love you,’ he repeated. ‘I told you once before – when you were asleep and couldn’t hear me. I was afraid for you to hear me. But I’m not any more.’

Callum loved me . . .

My heart began to rocket against my ribs again. Yesterday those words would’ve enabled me to fly. But that was yesterday.

‘You don’t. You can’t love me. It doesn’t exist. You told me so.’

‘If it didn’t exist, I wouldn’t’ve cared when I saw you drive off for Chivers. I came after you, you know. But I was too late.’

‘Y-you . . . came after me?’

Callum smiled sadly. ‘I didn’t read your letter until about twenty minutes before you were due to leave. I ran and ran all the way, but I was too late . . .’



I closed my eyes to stop my tears from escaping, but they did anyway. They trickled slowly down my face like solitary raindrops on a window pane. What might’ve been . . .

‘Ignore me,’ I said, wiping my eyes. ‘Just go away, please.’

‘Do you hate me?’ asked Callum.

I was finding it hard to think straight. Callum had come after me . . . He had wanted us to be together. His hand was still stroking my abdomen but it was no longer soothing. Instead it seemed to burn through my clothes and straight down into my insides.

‘Do you?’ Callum prompted.

I shook my head. ‘Another place . . . another time . . . you and I . . .’

‘I don’t know anything about another place and another time,’ Callum interrupted. ‘All I know is here and now.’

And he bent his head to kiss me. He moved so quickly, I had no time to even be surprised. Before I could make a sound, his lips were on mine and I could see nothing but his face, his eyes. His lips were so soft. Even softer than I’d remembered. I’d daydreamed so many times of doing this, until I’d realized that I was dreaming about something that was never, ever going to happen. And then the dream had been, not exactly abandoned, but buried deep where not even I could reach it easily. But now the world had turned upside down and Callum was kissing me. His lips coaxed open my mouth, but there was very little coaxing to be done. I closed my eyes.

This wasn’t real.

None of it was real.

It couldn’t be.

It was forbidden.

Against the law.

Against nature.

So I was dreaming again. Lost in my own world where there were no noughts and Crosses. Just me and Callum, as Callum and I should be, whilst the rest of the world smiled kindly at us or turned their backs on us – but either way, we were left alone. Callum’s hand moved from my abdomen to my waist and higher. I pushed at his hand but it didn’t move. His kiss became gentler.

‘Callum . . .’

‘Shush! I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you. I love you,’ Callum whispered against my mouth. His breath was hot and made my insides melt. Uncertain, confused, I tried to pull away, but his kiss grew more urgent and all at once I didn’t want to move away any more. I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him, kissing him just as desperately as he was kissing me. Like if we could just love long enough and hard enough and deep enough, then the world outside would never, could never hurt us again. And then, it was as if we’d both caught fire. Sort of like spontaneous combustion and we were burning up together.

‘I love you,’ Callum whispered again.

But I could hardly hear him over the sound of my blood roaring in my ears. His hands were everywhere, moving over my arms, my breasts, my waist, my thighs. And every caress, every stroke robbed me of my breath and burnt through my skin. I pulled him closer and closer, my hands moving over his back and his bum and his legs. He sat up, pulling me with him. He raised my hands to pull off my jumper. I unbuttoned his shirt. He unfastened my bra. I unzipped his trousers. We stripped each other until we were both naked. And I was shaking. But not from the cold. I was melting inside. Never had I felt so scared and exhilarated and alive all at once. We both knelt on the bed, facing each other. Callum’s gaze moved down over my body. I’d never realized before just how physical a mere look could be. Callum reached out with both hands and touched my cheeks. He ran his hands over my lips and my nose and my forehead. I closed my eyes, just before his fingers softly touched my eyelids. And then moments later, his lips were exploring my face the way his hands had done. He lay me down gently, his hands and lips still exploring my body. I wanted to do the same to him. I was going to do the same to him. We were going to make this time last for ever. Callum was right. We had here and now. And that was all that mattered. I let myself drift away, following wherever Callum led. Beside him all the way as he led me into a real, unreal world. Not quite heaven. Not quite hell.

I sat up, scrambling for my jeans and my jumper. I couldn’t stop sobbing. My head was pounding and my nose was running and my throat was hurting, but I couldn’t stop.

‘Sephy . . .’ Callum began.

Did I look like him? So miserably unhappy after what had just happened to us? If I did, then I wouldn’t look at him again. His expression was my reflection. I pulled on my jeans and my jumper and hunted frantically for my sandals. I was aware of Callum getting dressed even though I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

Stop weeping . . . Just stop . . .

But I couldn’t. More tears for the impossible. My sandals were on the wrong feet. I didn’t know what I was doing. I kicked them off and tried again, still weeping.

Sephy, please . . .

Callum tried to put his arms around me. I pushed him away. He pulled me toward him again, which just made me cry harder and push against him more frantically.

The door of my prison cell was flung open and in ran Jude and Morgan, only to stop abruptly when they saw Callum and me together on the bed. Callum leapt up, but it was too late.

Stop crying . . . If only I could stop crying . . .


Date: 2015-12-18; view: 600


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