Disclaimer: As before, I don't own any of the characters or places, obviously; although if I did I would be very rich by now.
Warning: The following chapters contain or refer to violence as well as physical and/or sexual abuse. There are no graphic/explicit scenes, but there may be descriptions of self-harm.
I stare intently at a patch of silver moonlight drifting across the ceiling, waiting for Fulton to fall asleep. I know he's trying to stay awake and keep an eye on me...he's afraid I'll do something drastic as soon as he closes his eyes. He's probably right.
As I listen to the gentle snores beginning to rise from the floor, images flash through my mind; pictures of past and present merging into a terrible slideshow that I couldn't ever imagine in my worst nightmares. What can I do? There's no escape, no way to just leave the memories behind and carry on like nothing's happened...I can't do that this time. If only I had someone to confide in...I know I spent most of the night talking to Fulton and Dwayne, but it wasn't a heart-to-heart, more of a purging. The scars are still there, covered by the raw wounds inflicted tonight...much like the cuts on my arm.
Sighing, I roll onto my stomach and reach down into the bag beside my bed. Fulton's bundled into a sleeping bag on the floor, drooling contentedly onto his pillow. We both refused to sleep in the other bed and Fulton wouldn't let me sleep on the floor. Being careful not to wake him, I slowly slide a fat journal from my bag, along with a torch and a pen. Then, rolling right over again, I face the wall and pull the blankets up to dim the light from the torch. With something akin to reverence I flip open my journal, flicking gently through four years' worth of scribbled notes, drawings and photos...my album of memories.
I pause as I reach one page, dated two years ago. The paper is wrinkled and the writing smudged-a testament to my tears.
'He came to me again last night, just like he has every night. I pushed my desk against the door, but he still got in. He was angry...I ought not to have blocked the door, he doesn't like it when I try to stop him coming in. I regretted it this morning-he beat me again, hitting me with his belt until I passed out. I woke up in the middle of the floor where he had left me, my back on fire. It's still too painful to move very far, but I can't get help. If I go to the hospital, they'll ask questions I won't want to answer, and if he finds out I went and told someone he'd kill me. I don't know how much more I can take...I feel like I'm being eaten up inside...but I can't talk to anyone about it. There's only one way I can deal with it, but it scares me. Why do I do this to myself? I don't understand it...I think I need help...'
Even now I don't fully understand why more pain is the only way I can keep my mind together...and everything I do I document in this journal, which I fastidiously carry around with me everywhere. I turn the pages again, to another entry that sticks out in my mind. Again, the page is wrinkled, but this time it's also spattered with dark shadows-my own blood. The writing's terrible, rusty smudges smearing the ink. The words are badly formed, the script shaky. My hand was trembling badly, I can remember, the ache in my arm aggravated as I scraped fresh cuts over the paper in my desperation to put my thoughts into visible words, to force out all the pain, all the feeling.
After a slight hesitation, I turn to a new page and allow the pen to rest on the paper for a moment before writing.
'Charlie's duplicity has left me full of rage and pain...he's hurt me, physically and emotionally. I trusted him, how could he do that to me? What did I do? Did I encourage him in any way? I didn't even know he felt that way...what about his girlfriend? If he did that to me, what does he do to her? Maybe it's all just an act...maybe he's not really into her at all...is everything a lie? I wish I knew. It's so hard now, I can't trust anyone, not even Fulton or Dwayne. They're hurt, but I can't stand to have anyone near me. All I can remember are Charlie and my dad ...I'm so afraid. Will Charlie do it again? I've got to go to practise tomorrow...I don't know if I can face him again...I don't know if I can ever face anyone again...And what's with Dwayne? I know he's hiding something, after all, I've done enough hiding myself. But what's his secret?'
I lay down my pen, thinking. I was writing without forethought, just letting my soul guide my pen. But now I come to it, what is Dwayne's hidden facet? What is he concealing? Frowning, I close the journal and slip it under my pillow. At least now I've got something to distract me.
Five am, as is its wont, comes early the next morning. I rub my eyes blearily as Fulton's alarm clock blares painfully in my ear. I hadn't even realised I'd fallen asleep, but I guess I was pretty tired last night. I slide my hand beneath my pillow to check my journal's still there and then reach over to switch the alarm off. Fulton groans and raises his head from his sodden pillow.
"I was having a really nice dream...something about...marshmallows, I think" He looks back at the large damp patch and groans again, collapsing. I smile a little: Fulton can always bring a ray of humour to my day, no matter how bleak it may seem.
"We'd better get up, hockey practise starts in half an hour."
My voice is quiet and it takes a moment for my comment to register, but when it does Fulton sits up, suddenly wide-awake and staring at me. "You're really going?" His expression is incredulous.
"Of course, I can't let Orion down, can I?"
"What about Charlie?" It's a plain enough question, but a whole load of silent words hide behind that one sentence. I sigh.
"I don't know Fulton, but if I don't get onto the ice soon I'll go mad. I haven't played hockey all summer and now is my chance to get back to the one thing that, despite the circumstances, I love most. I can't let Charlie ruin everything for me."
Fulton gives me a slight grin. "That's the spirit Banksie! We'll show him, he won't stand a chance!"
I smile half-heartedly, my stomach churning sickeningly. However much I tell myself he won't get the better of me, I know he's already won.
There seems to be a new, ominous creak to the locker-room door as I push it open, squeaking over the clamour emanating from inside. Maybe it's just my imagination.
As I step into the room I'm enveloped by a familiar scene, one I've witnessed so many times before, and hope to see many times more. In one corner there's Connie and Julie, chatting animatedly as they pull on their padding (despite Orion's instructions that they should get changed in the girls' locker room), lined up along another bench are Russ, Goldberg and Averman, all debating last night's baseball game. Portman and Ken are flicking towels at each other, the snaps cracking over the general hubbub of the room, Guy's watching them, laughing and Dwayne's sitting in the furthest corner of the changing room quietly getting into his gear. He spots me and waves, a smile appearing on his face, but as I make to walk over, someone blocks my path. I stop dead in my tracks as I catch Charlie's sadistic grin, my knees immediately turning to water and threatening to collapse beneath me.
"You look tired, Adam. Late night last night?" He chuckles in a low, purring voice that no one else can hear, but as I stutter a reply, Fulton steps around me, not towering over him, but exuding a powerful presence that's nevertheless challenging the insolence in Charlie. He looks once at Fulton before turning his gaze to me, winking and retreating backwards. "Till tonight, sweetie." And, laughing, he walks back to where he's getting changed. I look around, watching everyone, but no one seems to have noticed a thing.
"Creep!" Hisses Fulton venomously, still standing slightly ahead of me, his eyes narrowed in a baleful glare. Still trembling, I hurry over to Dwayne and my new bodyguard follows, always keeping his eyes on Charlie. As I sit down, Dwayne turns to me.
"I saw what he did just then," He mutters, keeping his voice quiet. "Are you okay?"
I nod mutely, pulling my kit from my bag and beginning to change. I hurriedly pull my gear on, trying to hide from my team members, but unsuccessfully, it would seem.
"Hey, Banksie!" Guy calls over the uproar. "What'd you do to yourself?" It's a moment before I realise he's talking about the bandages still tightly wrapped around my chest. Flushing slightly, I'm only glad that they cover the worst of the bruising.
"Oh...I-I fell off a horse while I was on holiday...cracked a rib, but it's on the mend now." I feel Fulton and Dwayne stare at me, but no one else except them and Charlie knows I'm lying. I hold my breath, waiting for Charlie to speak up and tell them it's not true, that I was beaten senseless over the summer...but the voice never comes. Of course, I should have known. That's not Charlie's style. He'll use it as blackmail instead, a weak spot that he can build on and use to his advantage
"Should you be playing hockey then?" Asks Julie, her bright, catlike eyes wide with concern. I just nod.
"Yeah...the doctor said it would be better for me to exercise and work out the stiffness. It should be pretty much healed, it's just a matter of letting movement do the rest."
The rest of the team, who had stopped what they were doing when Guy called attention to me, immediately start calling out good wishes and go back to whatever they'd been doing before. I let out a huge sigh and fall back onto the bench, my face hot but my excuse accepted, for the time being.
Within a quarter of an hour we're on the ice and warming up before Orion arrives. I tentatively push forward across the rink; I'm a little stiff, but it only takes me a few minutes to ease the tension from my muscles and I'm off speeding around beside Guy, racing him to the goal, the enjoyment plain on both our faces. Laughing, he pulls forward a little.
"You'll have to try harder than that to beat me, Banksie!" He calls, his face now shining under his bright grin. I give him a mock salute and lean forward, taking the lead and streaking off ahead of him. I hear him give a shout of laughter and know that he's desperately trying to catch up. Grinning, I take the curve of the rink smoothly as it rolls up in front me...
Before I know what's happened I'm lying on the ice struggling to breathe whilst a cacophony of bells jangle in my head and ears. There are voices around me and I desperately try to make sense of them.
"Nice going Spazway, just injure Banksie on our first practise, why don't you?" But the voice is laughing slightly...I think it's Russ...
"I'm sorry, it was an accident!" I look up to see Charlie standing over me, a very convincing look of innocence and concern on his face. He turns to me. "Are you all right Adam?" He takes my arm and pulls me upright. As soon as I can stand, I yank myself free of his grip, an intense pain burning across my back.
"Fine, thanks." My voice is cold and yet shaken, my limbs rubbery and threatening to collapse.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Asks Julie, looking earnestly into my face. I smile slightly at her, trying not to grimace as the stinging gives a particularly vicious throb. She puts her arm around my waist and leads me slowly over to the bench. "Maybe you'd better sit down for a couple of minutes, give your rib a rest...that was a pretty nasty wallop you took" Yeah, no kidding. And it was no accident, either.
I only smile, gratefully this time, and skate with her to the bench. As I sit, I grab her hand. "Will you sit with me? Just a couple of minutes, until I'm better?" I feel I need her company right now
She gives me one of her sweet, shy grins and nods, seating herself beside me. I steal a glance at her as the warm-up continues, taking in her delicate profile. Maybe there's something more for me than hockey after all? I look back to the ice and see Charlie turn swiftly to catch my gaze and wave at me, giving a slow, secretive wink. I allow my head to drop. There can never be anything else. How can there be, with so many problems looming over me and spoiling every new experience with vivid memories or damaged emotions? I suppose that's what I am really...damaged goods...
"I'm ready to go back now." I mutter. I think Julie's startled at the change in my mood, but she makes no answer, just stands, helps me up and together we return to the ice. She skates off towards the goal, sending Goldberg into the locker room to get some pucks for practise. As I glide slowly round the rink, closely hugging the boards in case of another 'accident', Fulton skates over to join me.
"You okay?"
"I wish everyone would stop asking me that! It should be obvious to you that I'm about as far from 'okay' as it's possible to be!" I growl under my breath.
"...Sorry for caring."
I'm immediately repentant. "Oh Fulton...I didn't mean to be nasty...I'm just tired and hurt...and scared. I shouldn't take it out on you."
"It doesn't matter." He shrugs. "I can understand your reasons. All I wanted to do was ask how you are about being so close to Charlie again. You seemed to be shaking pretty bad when he came up to you in the locker room."
I snort. "Thanks for the vote of confidence Fulton." Frowning, I answer him. "Actually I'm terrified. I know I can't have someone protecting me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week...it's only a matter of time before he comes after me again. And when he does, what will I do?"
"After I'm done with him he won't go near anybody again!" He murmurs, but I hush him swiftly.
"Violence only leads to violence, Fulton. And anyway, you shouldn't get involved."
"Too late."
"But this isn't your problem!"
"It shouldn't have to be yours either!"
I stop, realising our voices are rising above the soft whispers we'd been using and pause to calm down before answering, concentrating instead on the rhythmic hissing of my skates beneath me.
"Look, I don't want to talk about it right now."
"You were keen enough to talk last night."
I remain silent for a moment, my eyes burning with angry tears. "That was a cheap shot Fulton."
"I know...sorry...I didn't mean...I was angry..." He fails to form a proper sentence and gives up, shrugging instead and pulling away, skating towards the centre of the rink where the others are all gathering to kneel on the ice. Reluctantly I switch direction and follow him, pulling up behind Kenny and easing myself down onto one knee just as Orion clatters into the rink and skates towards us. Let the games begin.
"Right team, we'll start with the usual warm-ups, but then I thought we'd have a mini-match, just so that everybody gets a proper practise before next week's game and so that both goalies can get in some practise too."
"That's all right coach, I'm fine, I don't need any practise. I can't see you needing me today, so I'll just be on my-"
"Nice try Goldberg. Get back here and work for once. Now, everybody up and give me three laps while I set out the cones. Come on! Get going!" But he's grinning as he yells at us. We scramble upright and hasten to comply, grabbing our sticks and helmets from the various places we threw them when we arrived and begin speeding round the rink. Carrying my helmet in one hand and my hockey stick in the other, I concentrate only on the ice in front of me, always keeping an eye out for Charlie. He won't get me this time...
The warm-ups go well, or at least pass uneventfully. Fulton keeps a constant watch on me and is always right behind me, separating me from Charlie any time he tries to get near. This tactic becomes much harder, however, when we're split up to play against one another. Orion sorts the teams by numbering us all one or two. I'm on team one with Guy, Kenny, Portman, Julie and Dwayne and team two has got Russ, Connie, Charlie, Goldberg, Luis and Fulton. This is going to be bad.
"All right, face-off to start with, as always. I think we'll have Conway and Banks, just to add a little excitement. Our two star players against one another...it should be fun!" He smiles genially; having absolutely no idea what he's just done. "Now, let's have a good, clean match and show me plenty of those tactics I taught you last year! And don't forget-"
"Defence not just offence!" We chorus. He grins.
"Right! And remember to clear all the rubbish out from in front of the net people!" He drops a puck onto the ice in front of him. "Now, Banks and Conway, get over here and take the face-off." I make my way over with great reluctance, turning to bend over my hockey stick and concentrate on the small black puck before me. I glance up and meet Charlie's eyes glinting maliciously at me. I'm in way over my head here...
Charlie's steady gaze never wavers and I feel my muscles tighten, expecting an attack at any moment. Instead he contents himself with a slow, lazy smile and a muttered: "Good luck darling."
Before I can prepare myself, Orion's whistle echoes throughout the arena and he leaps out of the way. Reacting purely from instinct I swipe the puck away from Charlie and slide it down to Guy, who speeds off down the rink closely followed by the rest of our side and the other team of Ducks. I push forward, but one of my skates disappears from under me, throwing me onto the ice. Pain flares up in my right wrist as I throw it out to break my fall, despite the support bandage wrapped around it. I look up to see Charlie skating off laughing. Orion, it seems, hasn't noticed anything. Raising myself hurriedly, I race down the rink after him, ignoring the pain throbbing up my arm. As I near the goal I hear a call from my right and see Portman pass me the puck. Diving forward I scoop it up against my stick and rush forwards, faking twice and finally sending it flying in on the third pass. Goldberg makes a spectacular dive, but just misses. A cheer goes up and four sets of hands are clapping my on the back, making me wince slightly. I look around for Fulton and see him grin at me and give me the thumbs up sign. Smiling broadly, I return to the centre of the ice to wait for the face-off between Guy and Luis, not noticing Charlie skate up beside me. I feel him collide with me, however and catch myself as I stumble, just in time not to fall again. He skids to a sharp halt opposite me and laughs softly.
"Nice goal Banksie, but if you think you're going to last long enough to make another one you're mistaken. I will take you down."
My mouth has gone dry and I have to swallow several times before I can make a reply. "Why are you doing this to me?"
His expression suddenly takes on a much more sinister aspect and he snarls fiercely. "Because you told Dwayne about last night!" He hisses. "I had to put him in his place after that. I must say, he wasn't nearly as much fun as you, didn't have quite the same passive nature or pleading, helpless look. " My eyes widen in shock and I glance over to Dwayne, who's staring intently at Guy and Luis.
"What...?"
"He hasn't told you?" Charlie's voice is gleeful and he's about to say more, but the whistle goes before he can continue. With a last glance at each other, we push off and follow the puck, which has gone to the other Ducks team. I don't have time to wonder at Charlie's words, I'm too busy following him. He's calling for the puck and I see it zigzagging towards the goal between various players, towards Julie, who's crouched and ready...Charlie takes possession of the puck, goes for the triple deke and veers off around the back of the goal at the last moment, trying to use my scoring technique. I race forward as he tips the puck towards the nearest corner of the goal, Julie throws out her stick; time seems almost to have frozen as I watch her lean forward...and the puck rebounds! It bounces straight back to me and I hug it to my stick, turning and weaving through the opposition. I see Dwayne emerging beside me and forward the puck to him just before I reach the curve of the rink...
Charlie pulls out in front of me and bends low, sending me flying over his back before I can stop. I flip over and collide with the boards and then hit the ice, feeling my helmet disappear on contact with the barriers. Pain explodes in a white-hot flower of blinding proportions in my skull as my bare head knocks against the brick-hard ice. On my back and nursing a deafening headache, I open my eyes to see dim shapes moving around above me in between a shimmering haze of coloured lights. Guy's face swims into view and I moan feebly.
"Adam! Jesus Adam, answer me! Are you all right? Can you hear me?"
I form the words in my head and slowly force them out of my mouth. "Fine...thanks..."
"Oh thank God!" Cries another voice, Connie by the sound of it.
"Adam, can you move at all?" Asks Coach Orion, his voice close to my ear. I nod once, aggravating the pain in my head to such a degree that I retch, rolling over onto my front in case I throw up.
"I don't think anything's broken." Murmurs Portman, his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up.
"Come on Adam, lean on me and I'll help you." I blink slowly and see Fulton kneeling beside me, his face pale and taut with worry. My head seems to clear a bit and I blink to clear my vision and the fuzziness in my mind. With some effort I manage to loop my arm around his neck and he leads me away to the bench, the rest of the team following. Orion sits me down and looks into each of my eyes.
"I don't think there's any serious concussion...he wasn't unconscious at all...he'll probably need stitches, though. You'd best get him to the nurse, Fulton."
"No...nurse..." I mutter, trying to keep my head up. It suddenly seems to weigh a tonne.
"Adam, you need medical attention and you need it now. I advise you to get out of your skates as quickly as possible and get down to the medical rooms. Fulton will go with you to make sure you're all right-"
"I'll go too." Adds Dwayne, already behind Fulton and prepared to carry me to the medical wing if I need him to. There's no point in arguing, so I just shrug and allow them both to pull me upright, supporting me under each shoulder and helping me to stand. As we leave, I hear Coach Orion call out to the rest of the team.
"All right team, that's it for today! Everybody into the showers and get changed, I expect you've all got something better to do than stand around here for the rest of the day."
In the changing rooms, Fulton and Dwayne hastily pull off my skates and pack them into my kit bag before removing their own and slipping on their trainers. As Dwayne laces up my sneakers, I catch sight of myself in a mirror on the wall opposite and jump slightly. Staring back at me is what looks like my own face, but it's drawn and as white as chalk, my eyes darkened in pain. Shining wet and stark against the cadaverous pallor of my face is a thick, cascading stream of blood, leaking swiftly from a large gash along one side of my head. Fulton sees me staring in the mirror and nudges Dwayne. Together they haul me up and lead me towards the door.
"Come on Banksie, we'll get you to the nurse, she'll have you better in no time." But his expression is one of worry, a look that's echoed on Dwayne's strained face. As we leave the locker room I receive a tide of good-wishes from the team, each of them as pale and shocked as Dwayne and Fulton. I look back before the door closes-my last view is of Charlie, standing behind the rest of the Ducks, a smug grin on his face.