My jaw clenches at the thought.
I make my way to the stable yard building. The gardens are overgrown and littered with bottles and feg butts. When I come up over the hill and see it, I sigh, overwhelmed. This place was my sanctuary, the place where I could grieve for the life I never wanted to live.
I walk the same paths I did ten years ago, but so much has changed. That boy didn’t know who he was destined to become. I’m surprised the door is still intact. It’s unlocked, of course, so I open it and peer inside. The interior is different, but the feelings are still the same—I’m home.
Walking into my gaff, I stand in the middle of the room, taking everything in. My possessions are long gone, but the memories will never fade. I close my eyes, and all I see is Babydoll. I can hear her laughter, her breathless moans as we lost ourselves in one another over and over again.
I remember the way she tested me, refusing to back down. She was the strongest person I knew.
Her scent, her taste is amplified in here as this was our private oasis where the outside world didn’t exist. It was us versus them. I miss her so fucking much.
I never allowed myself to think of her because when I did, all I felt was this—this gaping hole in my chest. I never knew what love was, but now I know that I loved Babydoll with every fiber of my being. There wasn’t a specific event or time when I fell for her; it was simply inevitable.
Being apart from her is like missing a part of me, and now that I know she isn’t my sister, I can’t stop thinking about how she made me feel. I want that feeling back.
I want her.
And just like that…I get my wish…and I can finally breathe again after ten long years.
“…Hi, Punky.”
Turning slowly, afraid my mind is playing tricks on me, I prepare to be greeted by a ghost of the past. But when I lock in on those expressive green eyes, I realize she’s here. She’s really here.
I need a minute to take her in because she’s changed, although, in some ways, she looks exactly the same.
Her long hair is now a light brown with blonde through it. I remember when we met, it was a brighter blonde. I wonder if she dyed it to help disguise who she really was. She wears fitted blue jeans and a short knitted jumper. She has some makeup on, and I focus on her glossy pink lips.
How I want to taste them.
“I wanted”—she clears her throat—“I wanted to come pick you up.”
My body instantly responds to her voice, and I wonder how I lived without it for ten years. I realize I was only half living.
“But I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”
Her chest shudders as she exhales. She’s nervous.
“You look—” She scrunches up her nose when she takes in my black and blue state. “Just how I remember you. But older.”
I want to speak, but I’m addicted to hearing her voice, so I remain quiet.
She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess that’s what happens when ten years pass. We get old.”
I can’t take my eyes off her, and when her cheeks turn scarlet, I know she still feels this pull between us. It never left. It was merely in a ten-year slumber. But the beast has awoken, and it needs to be fed.
“Are you going to say anything?” she asks, biting her bottom lip. “Do you want me to go? You’re not happy to see me?”
She’s clutching at straws as I haven’t said a word. I’m afraid to. I’m afraid to tell her I love her because I’ve never told anyone that I’ve loved them before.
“This was a mistake.”
She spins on her heel, intent on running out the door, but I lunge forward and seize her arm, stopping her. The sparks between us almost set me alight. Touching her winds me, as I’m reminded of the times when I devoured every inch of her skin.
But when a breathy whimper leaves her parted lips, I realize she’s not privy to the secret that we’re not blood. So I let her go because I don’t want her feeling ashamed for the attraction which still lingers between us.
“I am happy to see ye.” I finally speak, watching the way her body softens to my words. “I’m sorry. It’s just…a lot.”
She nods, lowering her eyes. “I know what you mean. I don’t know where to start.”
“Aye. It’s fucking weird,” I say, wishing I could be a little more articulate. “Ya look…good.”
I wanted to say beautiful, but it’s hardly appropriate.
“How are you? I mean…” She quickly covers her face with her palms, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I mean. Why is this so difficult?”
I understand how she’s feeling. I want to say so many things, but words escape me.
Stepping forward, I gently remove her hands so I can see her face. She allows me to touch her openly. I don’t let go of her hands. I can feel her pulse racing wildly on her wrist.
“It’s okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too.”
“You are?” she asks with a small smile. “You don’t look nervous.”
“How do I look then?”
She exhales deeply, her eyes filled with tears. “You look like you,” she confesses softly. “Why didn’t you want to see me? I wrote you hundreds of letters. I came to see you. But you just…forgot about me? Is that it? You couldn’t forgive me? What you said to me…you meant it?”
Her insecurity hurts me because she’s got it all wrong. I was forced to stay away from all of them to protect them. But it seems even though their safety was ensured, the pain I caused mentally has been far worse than I ever imagined.
Brushing over her knuckles, I reply, “I didn’t want to see ye in there. Not caged up like some animal. And I never forgot ya.”
A tear trickles down her cheek. “I’m sorry for everything. I thought I was doing the right t-thing.”
“Shh, it’s all right. We all made mistakes. How’s yer ma? Yer wee sister?”
She sniffs back her tears. “My mom is good. She’s been in remission for almost eight years. My sister isn’t so little anymore,” she says with a smile.
“Ach, I’m happy yer ma is all right.”
“She’s okay because of you, because of what you did. You went to prison for me. For all of us,” she says, squeezing my hands.
“I’m doin’ this so we’re even. But I don’t want to see ye again. No matter what ye did, ya lied to me, and now I have the deaths of my family on my hands. I cannot forgive ya. And ye shouldn’t forgive me.”
Those are the last words I spoke to her, yet she still sees me as the hero in this story.
“I’ve missed you…so much,” she declares in a whisper, ashamed. “A piece of me died when you left. I’ve been searching for it since you were gone—”
“I need to tell ya somethin’,” I interrupt, unable to stomach her pain a second longer. But what she says next changes everything forever.
“I met someone,” she blurts out, lowering her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just…we can’t be together. And…fuck. He’s a good man. I’m sorry, Punky. He makes me ha-happy.”
She throws herself into my arms, sobbing into my chest guiltily.