“I’ll be fine, I promise. He won’t do anything to me.”
I pulled my hand from his and it was the worst feeling. It felt as though my soul was tearing, shredded in half down the middle, and it was screaming. It wailed the saddest agony.
I walked away and I couldn’t look back, I daren’t look back, not until I was out through the front door, wobbly on legs that really didn’t want to carry me. Mum and Dad filed out after me, got into the car without another word. I slipped into the back seat, and Mark was in the doorway, watching me. His expression was one of misery. Misery and guilt and pain.
I cried so hard I couldn’t take a breath, my face pressed to the window as the car pulled away, my fingers tight to the glass, reaching out for one last touch.
Oh God, how I wanted one last touch.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed.
And then he was gone.
***
“How fucking long?” Dad was pacing around the living room.
I perched on the sofa, a dithery mess, struggling for words. “Weeks. Like I said.”
“And you expect me to fucking believe that, do you? Do I look like I was born fucking yesterday?”
I nodded. “It was weeks, Dad. And it was me. I pushed it.”
He sneered. “You think you’re such a fucking grown up. You know fucking nothing about the world, Helen, nothing at all. He’s been grooming you for years.”
I shook my head. “No. He hasn’t.”
“Think what you fucking want. The guy’s a fucking molester.”
I swatted away a tear. “You’re so wrong. You’re really wrong, Dad. You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I’M NOT FUCKING WRONG!”
“George!” Mum had her head in her hands. “Please, just stop!”
He stared at me. “I was right, wasn’t I? About that fucking pantomime?” He pointed at Mum. “I fucking told you, Angela. I fucking told you, but nobody ever listens to me.”
“I tried it on, he stopped it,” I said. “That’s why I was upset.”
“Sure he fucking did.”
More tears spilled, flowing faster than I could wipe them away. “I swear it was me. I’ll swear on anything you want. I pushed it, I chased, I pretty much begged. And he fought it, really hard, I swear. He really did.”
“How fucking noble.” He stopped pacing. “That man’s fucking ruined, I’m telling you. Monday morning I’ll be marching straight into that school and I’ll be telling them exactly what the fuck’s been going on.”
“Then I’ll leave,” I said, and there was concrete behind my tears. Cold, dead concrete. “If you make him leave, then I’ll leave too.”
Dad scoffed, and bellowed, and slammed his fist into the wall. “You’re not fucking leaving anything, Helen! Don’t even think about it! You’re not fucking going anywhere!”
“I mean it,” I said. “I’d fail anyway. If you make him go away, then I’ll go, too. I’ll go anywhere. I couldn’t bear it. I wouldn’t even care anymore.”
Mum got to her feet, hands wringing. “Think about this, George, just think! You go all guns blazing and you’ll ruin everything! Helen’s got exams! She’s got studying! She’s got university, George! Just think about that!”
“She should have fucking thought about that before she got in that pervert’s fucking bed, Angela!”
Mum shook her head. “I’m not saying it’s right. It’s not right, George! I’m saying there’s considerations to be made! Helen needs to finish her exams, George! She needs to pass!”
“So, what do you expect me to do about it?!” he snarled. “Just let it fucking happen?” He jabbed a finger towards her. “I’m not just going to sit here and let that fucking pervert take advantage of my daughter, Angela. You can fucking forget it.”
“Our daughter,” she said. “Do whatever you want, but, please, for God’s sake, at least let her finish her exams first!”
He stared at me so hard it made my skin freeze. “You won’t be seeing him again, understand? No phone calls, no fucking painting workshops, no fucking internet, no late nights from school. Nothing. NOTHING!”
“And then what?” I cried. “And then you’ll leave him alone?”
He didn’t answer me, not for ages.
“This is such fucking bullshit,” he seethed. “The man should be fucking disgraced. He should be GONE!”
“George!” Mum hissed. “Please!”
I forced my voice out. “If I don’t see him again, you’ll leave him alone? Is that what you’re saying?”
Dad folded his arms, glared at me. “I don’t know what I’m fucking saying!”
The silence was putrid and horrible.
Mum sighed. “We just have to do what’s right for Helen, George.”
“And what about him?!” he said. “He just carries on, gets away scot-fucking-free?”
“I don’t give a fuck about him!” Mum cried. “I don’t care, George! I just care about Helen’s exams! I just care about our daughter!”
“AND SO DO I!”
“Then don’t ruin it! Please, George, don’t ruin her A-Levels!”