“Amen,” Bridget cries.
“Maybe I should stay then.” Abbie scoffs. “Sounds like the fun might just be about to begin.”
Joshua
I sit in the darkened room as I watch her, the weight sits heavily on my shoulders and my mind refuses to stop. She still has the marks from past bruises on her and I can’t let it go. I need to know how she got them.
Natasha wakes with a start. “Joshua,” she croaks out, realising I’m not in bed with her.
“I’m here, Presh,” I answer softly from my chair in the darkened corner.
Her face falls. “Are you ok?”
I nod sadly.
She watches me for a moment. “Did you take your sleeping tablets?”
“Yes.”
She looks to the clock on the side table. It’s 2:30 a.m. “You only get four hours from them?”
“Yes.”
She sits up. “Joshua, come back to bed, baby.”
I stand and sit next to her and she cups my cheek in her hand.
“You look so sad, so lost. What are you thinking about, my love?” she asks.
I stare at her for a moment. “Did he use his hand to hit you?” I whisper.
She swallows and nods once.
Pain lances through my chest. I can’t bear that she went through this because of me.
“How often, how often did he…” I stop, unable to go on.
“How often did he hit me?” she finishes for me.
“Yes.”
“When I didn’t do what he wanted me to do.”
What he wanted her to do? It never even occurred to me before. Oh my God. I feel like I can’t breathe and bile rises from my stomach.
“Did he…?” I hesitate again. I can’t even say it out loud.
“Rape me?” she whispers.
I drop my head and screw up my pained face as tears fill my eyes.
“No.” She sits up and cups my cheek once more.
“He would have as soon as he got the go ahead. Amelie protected me to an extent.”
“Don’t say that. It was me that should have protected you,” I whisper. “This was all my fault, Natasha. I should have protected you. I should have picked up that Amelie was unstable.”
She leans in and kisses me gently, trying to calm me. “I’m ok, Joshua. I survived. I wasn’t raped. How could you have possibly known?”
“How hard did he hit you?”
She hesitates and frowns as her eyes mist over. “He only hit me really hard twice with his fists. He knocked me out once. Mostly he would slap me until I fell and then kick me when I was on the ground.”
I scrunch my eyes closed. I can’t bear this. “You should have killed him,” I whisper.
Her eyes hold mine for a moment. “The scary thing is, Josh, I wished I killed him, too.”
I watch her struggle with her internal thoughts.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
Her dark eyes meet mine. “I can still feel the way the glass felt as it sliced though his neck. I can still hear him screaming out in pain.”
I swallow. “What memory is stronger? Him hitting you or you attacking him?”
“Me attacking him is much stronger.”
“Good,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to remember the other stuff. You need to try and forget it, baby.”
“Can you tell me? Can you tell me about the night I went missing?”
“Why would you want to hear that shit?” I murmur.
She frowns. “I…” Then she hesitates. “I’m trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. I think it will help me.”
I lay down and pull her across my body so her head is on my arm and her top leg is thrown over mine. My hand runs aimlessly through her hair.
“How did you find I was gone?” she whispers.
I frown as I remember. “I was cold. It was so cold. I could hear the wind banging on something.”
She, too, frowns as she tries to visualise my words. “What time was this?”
“Dawn. It was foggy.”
She lies still as she listens.
“I thought you were in the bathroom and I went back to sleep. I could have saved you, but I went back to sleep.”
“Josh,” she whispers.
“The door kept banging and eventually it woke me up completely. I went looking for you.”
“Oh Josh. My heart aches for you,” She whispers. “I can’t imagine going through this.”
I hesitate; knowing the next part of the story is what upsets me. I can’t bear going back there. The lump in my throat forms and my chest tightens.
“Then what happened?” she prompts.
“I slipped.”
“You slipped?” she repeats.
I nod.
“God, Josh, your heart rate is racing. You’re back there, aren’t you? You relive this every night?” she whispers in horror.
My eyes mist over.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“Huh?”
“When you slipped?”
“No,” I reply blankly.
“Was the deck wet?” she asks.
“I slipped on your blood.”
She gasps.
“There was blood everywhere,” I whisper.
She screws up her eyes in pain.
I feel perspiration start to wet me.
“There was so much blood and…” I hesitate as I realise that this might upset her further.
“Tell me,” she urges. “I’m ok and I want to hear this, Joshua.”