Chapter 13: Stay With Me

Trigger warnings:

References to violence and murder (POV 1)

Very mild sexual references (POV 2)

Carla

"Liam, I'm capable of entering my own flat." I roll my eyes sharply as he steps in front of me, hesitantly opening the front door as if he was embarking on a murder investigation. With any luck, it would be. Maybe George had managed to get his hands on some dodgy gear that had finally sent him over the edge. Planting a hand on my hip, I stand against the wall, waiting for my 'knight in shining armour' to give Rob and I the all clear.

"He's here. Passed out though." I hear Liam call from inside, tugging on Rob's wrist and slamming the battered door behind us. I didn't want to be lurking out in that corridor longer than needed. I didn't know where I was more unsafe; in here with George or out there where the thugs would graffiti the walls on a Saturday night. "I could smash him over the head right now." I notice Liam staring down at George's frail body, lying in the centre of the floor, empty whiskey bottle still desperately clutched in his hand. "I could. Be done with it. Put him out his misery."

"Us, more like." I dare to jibe as I ruffle Liam's hair, skirting past to reach the kitchen cupboards. "And don't tempt me. I've thought of doing that enough times."

"Why don't we?" Rob's gruff tone sounds from the living room door as I find where I stash the first aid kit in the hidden corner of the cupboard, stocked ready for any fights I might get myself into. It's only when I turn around that I realise how intently he is staring at me, with such meaning, his eyes alight with thought. "...Why don't we just do it?"

"Do what?" I reach for the words, half expecting him to burst out laughing. But he doesn't, he looks more serious than ever.

"Kill him." His eyes flicker to George and I notice Liam move his feet shiftily. I let out a cackle of laughter, which seems to offend him slightly, narrowing his eyes as if I was being insensitive. "I'm not joking, Carla. Who's gonna care? Who's gonna even know he's dead? We'd do mam a favour. Ourselves. Him. What's he even living for, ey? His next fix." His eyes burn through me. It's almost terrifying. I hadn't seen this side of him before. "Why don't we kill him?"

"...Because I'm not a murderer." I finally broach, not shifting my gaze from his, challenging him at his own game. "And neither are you, Robert." I say it firmly, the twinkle in his eyes glimmering slightly at the thought. "You'll kill a spider, that's about as far as you'd go."

"You wanna bet?" His eyes finally shift to George again, eyeing him up and down. I could practically see the thoughts racing through his mind. "I wonder what it's like... To have that control over somebody... To see the light leave their eyes... I bet when you've done it once, you can do it again. I bet it gets easier every time. Until it's just like counting chickens. Entire existences just pointless. Over and on to the next."

My eyes follow where he is approaching George, stopping to stare into his haggard face. The rough stubble. The purple bags under his eyes. The greasy hair. The stained t-shirt. He was the most disgusting human being I had ever known. Maybe I could do it. Maybe I had it in me. "...Rob, let's clean your face." I finally say and he turns to face me slowly, challenging one another once more. I make the first move, pacing towards him. He was my little brother. I had seen him sob. I had seen his heartbreak over rejected advances towards Michelle Connor. I wasn't scared of him. I never would be. "Here, stay still. It might sting." He finally relents, allowing me to take a look at his eyebrow, wincing as I wipe over it with anti-septic. I clean most of it up, before my eyes drop to his again, a playful smile appearing on my cheeks. "...Like you could ever kill anyone."

Michelle

If it wasn't for the booming music, the sound of smashing glass and the hurtled laughter from outside the bedroom door, I was sure Dean and I would be drowning in awkward silence. I stare up at the ceiling, my neck sticky with sweat, analysing the cracks in the paint like a palm reader. I didn't feel as embarrassed, ruined or impure as last time. But I didn't feel amazing. I felt a little cheap, if anything. Sure, it had been an experience to know I could rile Dean up like that, feeling the weight of his body against mine, the way he panted and uttered my name. And it hadn't hurt as much as last time, although I still had tomorrow's aching to look forward to. I still didn't understand what people raved about though. I hadn't experienced the 'fizzing, soaring feeling' Carla once referred to. Maybe I was doing it wrong. Maybe Dean was doing it wrong. Then again, he was a teenage boy. No matter how much he shouted his mouth off about sleeping around, I was sure he couldn't be the most experienced bloke out there. "...Do you have feelings for me, Chelle?" The question comes out of nowhere, but it also doesn't shock me.

I just take a moment to contemplate my answer before uttering a blunt and honest, "yes."

"You seem to be forcing yourself." He turns onto his side, finally searching my face for answers. I turn my head to face him, dark hair flowing out across the pillow. "...During sex. You don't seem to enjoy it."

"Well um..." I pause, looking into midair as if it would offer me some crafty response. "If you want me to be honest with you... I hadn't actually done it before we last... You know."

He suddenly lets out a puff of laughter and my eyes snap back to his, glaring sharply. "I know, Chelle."

"What do you mean, you know?" I sit up, suddenly defensive, folding my arms over the duvet.

"I knew you hadn't... I could tell. And I kinda, well, you're fifteen. Just. I hadn't expected you to either." He speaks softly, gently, like he genuinely cared for me. "That's why I'm constantly asking you if you're ok... I don't want to hurt you."

"I thought that was just... A way you guys get off." I shrug my shoulders, feeling slightly stupid and transparent but altogether relieved that at least we were on the same page now. "...I didn't realise you actually cared."

"Are you kidding?" His tone is genuine, and my eyes meet him, hesitating as I soak up the sincerity he is throwing my way. "Course I care. I'd never want to hurt you..." He trails off, grazing a hand down my arm and goosebumps prickle behind it. "I'm not a dickhead, Michelle."

"...That's not what Maisie Evans wrote on the toilet wall." I dare to mock him, smirking slightly as I watch his brow furrow, pressing me further. "Third cubicle along, top left corner, black biro, 'Dean Powell is a total dickhead'."

"Well what goes on in the girls toilets isn't my business." He tries to shrug it off, pride clearly dented and I laugh gently, reaching out to smooth away the hair that had fallen over his face. My smile softly fades, noticing how he stares at me with such lust. I was sure he could have anyone. Why was he here with me?

"Can I ask you something?" I quietly utter and he just nods his head, waiting patiently. "How many girls have you slept with?"

I anticipate the worst, running over double figured numbers I expect to hear him admit to. "...Two."

I pause, registering his response, before rolling my eyes and letting out a sarcastic laugh. But his expression doesn't shift, it doesn't falter, he just stares straight back at me, waiting for me to stop. "...Wait, you're serious?" My eyes narrow and he nods his head. "Two?"

"You and... Well, Maisie Evans, as it happens." He gives a slightly embarrassed shrug, prompting me to smile softly. I sit in silence for a moment, fingers jittering in my lap, absorbing the unexpected information. "Why? Are you going to call me a loser now?"

"No, quite the opposite." I turn back to him. It was my turn to be genuine now, showing him how much I appreciated the honesty. "Actually, it makes me feel a lot better. After the first time... I built up in my head all the comparisons I thought you'd make to other girls. More experienced girls. I mean, you seem to know what you're doing."

"It's not about knowing what you're doing, Chelle." He laughs slightly. "It's just enjoying yourself, being wrapped up in the moment. You know, it's special, isn't it? Having that kind of connection with someone."

He laces his fingers with mine and I feel heat rise inside me, swallowing against the lump in my throat. Wow, I was falling hard. I wasn't used to this. "...I didn't know you felt like that."

"...So now can I ask you a question?" He gages and there is a flicker of panic at what it could be, nodding slowly. "Honestly, do you enjoy it?"

"...Yeah." I didn't even know whether it was the truth or a lie. But I could hardly say no.

"No, I mean. Do you feel it?" He whispers and I struggle to understand what he means. "When we're... Do you feel that? As if, even for a brief second, you've never been that alive. A high that a drug could never give you."

"...I don't know." I answer, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but also not even knowing for myself. "Maybe it just takes practice."

"Can I try something?" He asks gently and I nod, allowing him to lie me down on the pillow. He stares at me for a moment, before meeting my lips, kissing me with such passion I feel my heart flutter. "Ok, this is about you now." He whispers against my skin, his fingers walking themselves up my thigh. "See if you feel it now..."

Carla

"You staying for one?" I pull the bottle of scotch from it's safe space, lodged between my mattress and the bed frame. Liam's eyes glint at the tempting chestnut liquid, Rob taking a seat hungrily next to me. Usually, I wouldn't be so open to sharing, but he had endured a pretty rough evening and I thought it necessary to calm his nerves. "Thought so." I grin as Liam rests at the end of my bed, taking the glass I pour out and hand to him. "You not going back to the party then?"

"Ah well, there's not much point. It's all Michelle's mates really, isn't it?" Liam takes a sip of the scotch, leaning back against my bedroom wall and I scoff slightly at the assumption that most of the overly made-up slappers there could ever be lucky enough to befriend somebody as genuine as Michelle Connor. "You did talk to Dean didn't you? Made sure he'd get her home safe?"

"I did." I just murmur over the rim of my glass, noticing how Rob was rolling his awkwardly between his hands.

"And you told him not to let any boys near her. Yeah? He's gotta be like a guard dog; chasing off any bloke who makes a move." He adds and my eyes flicker to Rob, momentarily.

"I'm sure he'll do just that." I promise Liam. I hated lying to him. But my loyalties would forever be with Michelle. She had covered for me enough times. It was only fair that I repaid the favour. "Fifteen." I dwell on her age, staring into space as I think of the time that had passed since I met her at eight years old. "And Rob'll be fourteen next month." I give him a soft kick and he glares at me. "Won't yer?"

"When's your birthday?" Liam makes conversation, Rob surprised he even cared. It was rare that either of the Connor boys really engaged with Rob. I was sure they thought very little of him. And Rob had never been too keen on them. I guess he maybe felt like that took up a part of my life, a large part of my life, that nobody else had ever filled.

"May seventh." He responds shortly, before washing the words down with another gulp of alcohol.

"You don't say 'May seventh'." I prompt him and he raises his head, screwing his face up at the manner I had spoken to him with. "That's Americanised. We say 'the seventh of May'."

"...Shut the fuck up Carla." He just shakes his head, slightly amused at how I had lectured him and I throw a pillow at his head playfully. "Look, she starts actually getting her head down into a text book and she thinks she's the smartest person in the Greater Manchester."

"Smarter than you." I challenge, laughing as the pillow is thrown back in my direction, flickering my gaze to Liam. "And definitely smarter than you."

"Full of yourself." He just raises an eyebrow cockily, his lips settling around the rim of the glass. I watch it steam up as he exhales, condensation climbing the walls of it's transparent cage. "Chelle says you're learning German."

"Am I the only topic of conversation between you and your sister, Lee-bugs?" I tease him, watching the subtle roll of his eyes, before pursing my lips, sighing softly. "Bleibst du heute abend bei mir?"

"And what on Earth does that mean, while it's at home?" Liam retaliates, folding his arms, watching as my teeth brush softly over my lower lip.

"...I guess you'll never know." I just return his smile, my head falling to my lap at last. "Will you?"

Michelle

"Oh, here she is. Where the hell have you been?" Paul scolds as soon as I can close the front door behind me, still dressed in last night's clothes with one of 'Big Mikey's' sweatshirts pulled over the top. "It's a flamin' good job mam and dad are away, isn't it?"

"I went to Lily's for a sleepover." I just pour out some lame excuse, too tired for this lecture right now.

"Dressed like that?" He eyes me up and down. "Liam said they threw you a birthday party. I hope there were no boys there."

"Ugh, Paul." I groan, going into my bedroom and annoyingly, he follows me. "Look I was just up late watching horror films and eating cookies, ok? Can I get some sleep now?"

"Yeah, you can sleep as much as you like." He finalises. "Because you're grounded today."

"Ey?" I scoff, pulling my knees up to my chest as soon as I am sat on my bed. "You can't ground me!"

"Uh, I seem to believe that when mam and dad are away, I'm in charge." He points out and I screw my face up at the sourness of his tone. "Dad's words. So you leave this house today, and I'll spread the word that you didn't get in until one in the afternoon. Got it?" He slams the door sharply and I just shake my head. The audacity of him. The fact he thought he was somebody just because he earned an apprentice wage and drove a run-down Corsa which was well overdue an MOT.

I didn't want to go out anyway. I wanted to lie here all day, running through the events of last night in my head. I wanted to write a million letters to Dean about how I felt and then screw them all up so he would never know. A small smile tugs at my cheeks as I think back to how he made me feel. He had been right. I had felt it. I just hoped they weren't all empty promises

And then I realise what I had forgotten. The morning-after pill. I had to find some way of getting it.

Daring to open my door a crack, I hear the sounds of Paul shouting at his Gameboy. I slip around the frame, taking a few steps down the hall before I am stopped in my tracks. "Don't even think about it." The words are fired from the living room and I turn defensively, wondering how his ears were so sensitive. He appears in the doorway then, throwing his ugly looking white console down on the sofa. "I told you, you're grounded. I'm not having you going off to see that girl."

"That girl?" I raise an eyebrow, almost humoured by his cockiness. "You mean the sixteen-year-old you've been shagging?"

"Shut your gob, Michelle." There's bitterness in his tone as I hit a nerve. "And get back in your bedroom. I thought you said you were tired."

"I wasn't going to see her. There's something I need to do." I realise it might come down to begging him. "It's important."

"What is it?" He folds his arms, prepared to hear me out. But I knew the real reason would never win him around. Instead, I just falter for an excuse, scraping the sole of my shoe on the rough, fraying carpet before emitting a sigh of surrender. "Didn't think so. So back to bed. Go on, and I might bring you in some mac and cheese." A small smile appears on his face, which is hard to stay mad at. I knew he cared. I knew that was why he did all of this. He was just way too over-protective. They both were. There was no chance of me ever getting away with anything. Forcing myself to hopelessly trail back into my room, I glance out my window at the drop, debating whether to make an escape. If Paul found out, I'd be done for. There definitely wouldn't be any mac and cheese then.

No, I'd just have to wait until tomorrow. I could slip off after school with Carla and everything would be fine. I was sure a couple of hours wouldn't make a difference. Surely.