8. Helpless

It wasn't even seven in the morning yet but Nick needed to get out of the house. He couldn't stand another moment under the same roof as David.

His brother had come back late last night. Nick hadn't dared to go downstairs but had heard the blazing row his mum and David had had. Nick had pulled his headphones on and tried to block out how many times his and Charlie's names were brought into the argument. Fortunately, once David had slammed his door loudly down the hall, he had not re-emerged.

Nick had obviously succeeded in exhausting himself enough to sleep well that night, dreamless. But when he had woken up with a start, he could not find the courage to tempt fate any further and risk having another nightmare.

He had spent the early hours of the morning arranging the Polaroids from yesterday on his wall with the older ones. Even though the sight of them had given him great comfort, there had only been so long he could spend staring at them with nothing else to occupy his mind.

When it had finally been an acceptable time to get up, he showered, dressed and was just making himself some tea when David shuffled into the kitchen.

David slammed cupboards and used the same knife in the butter and then the jam. Once he had kicked Nellie out of his way as he strode across the kitchen, Nick had had enough.

That was how Nick had found himself and Nellie on a walk much earlier than either of them were used to.

Nellie didn't seem to mind much though, she was perfectly happy to plod along on an adventure, no matter what time of day it was.

Only as Nick stepped through the park gate did he realise where Nellie had led them. He had not been paying much attention, but Nellie knew their usual route as well as he did.

And Nellie had no reason to associate this place with anything but joy and fun.

He hadn't been back here since that day, Nick realised as he strode across the grass toward the riverside path.

He tried to convince himself that everything was okay. He couldn't avoid this place forever. There was no reason he shouldn't be here.

Nellie led the way down the path along the river. Nick couldn't help but glance across the field toward the treeline where he knew the cabin lay beyond.

The play park was mostly empty except for a couple of toddlers and parents. Nick watched a small child giggle in delight as they soared through the air, watched their parents gossip away happily as they pushed them higher.

Nick wondered if they were aware of the horrific events that had taken place just a few metres away.

He shivered and shook himself slightly as Nellie stopped by a tree to do her business.

It wasn't until the dog was done and Nick went to pull her on their way when he realised where he was.

This was the willow tree he and Charlie had stopped at that afternoon after… everything.

Nellie let out several loud barks, and Nick almost jumped out of his skin.

"What is it, Nel?"

"Boof!" She trotted toward the riverbank and sniffed the water cautiously.

This was pretty strange behaviour, Nick thought. Nellie hated the water.

But then Nick saw it.

Something dull and metallic floated near the opposite bank - something that glinted in the rising sun.

It was the gun.

Charlie stared down at the scrambled eggs on his plate.

The bacon.

The tomatoes.

The toast.

Jane, Julio, Tori and Oliver chattered away happily over their own breakfast - well, Tori didn't exactly chatter but still - Charlie felt like they were all staring at him, judging him.

He also felt that if he looked up at his mum across the table, if he met her eye, then everyone else would know what had happened.

That Tori would be able to tell.

Or Oliver.

Please, not Oliver.

Charlie had long since abandoned his cutlery and any pretence that he could eat.

He clenched his fists tighter than ever in his lap. He could feel the definite sting on his palms but the pressure didn't seem to be working this morning.

"Staring at it isn't going to make it eat itself, Charlie," Julio chuckled.

Jane scoffed. "What's wrong with this meal, Charlie? Is my cooking not satisfactory enough for you?"

"I'm not hungry. Sorry."

Jane pursed her lips. "I bet you'd eat Sarah Nelson's breakfast. You would obviously prefer it if she was your mother - but sorry to disappoint, Charlie, but I'm all you get."

Charlie couldn't think of anything he would want less than for Sarah Nelson to be his mother.

"Mum!" Tori gasped.

"Jane…"

Jane ignored the uncomfortable look her husband gave her.

"Well, you aren't to leave this table until you've eaten every last thing on your plate - I don't want any objections!" She sighed and then murmured, "Why am I always made out to be the villain?"

"Mum, you can't do that," said Tori. "That's not fair."

"Daddy," said Oliver quietly. "Why is Charlie so sad?"

As if from the end of a long tunnel, Charlie watched his dad battle with the instinct to agree with his wife and the instinct to support his son. The result ended in a guilty kind of grimace which was of no help to anyone.

The gathering fog rolled in through Charlie's head, smothering any last glimmers of hope - but then a distant buzzing suddenly cut sharply through the darkness.

Charlie blinked his eyes open. They had been screwed up tight but he had no memory of shutting them.

The pain in his hands was harsher now, but he knew that sound.

It repeated several times and seemed to lift Charlie to his feet.

"Did you not hear me? I said, sit down."

But Charlie had already crossed the kitchen.

He grabbed his phone from the side and saw three texts from Nick. Charlie managed to steady his hands enough to tap through to read them.

NICK (6:58): Meet me by the river at the park asap

NICK (6:59): If you can!

NICK (6:59): Please? ❤️❤️

Charlie scrambled a quick reply, shoved his phone into his pocket and, ignoring his mum's protests, fled the kitchen and the house.

The front door snapped shut behind him and finally Jane's voice was silenced.

Charlie set off at a quick pace down the road. By the time the park entrance came into view he was fully sprinting. The movement helped clear his mind somewhat but it didn't allow him to forget where he was going.

But he had to go. Nick needed him.

There was no time to dwell on the last time they were there.

At a distance, Charlie heard Nellie whine.

A little closer and he saw Nick pacing anxiously by the riverbank. Nick stared down at the phone in his hand, then glanced fleetingly toward the water, then up toward the path -

"Charlie! I didn't know what to do - I found - It's -"

Charlie came to a stop beside him and Nick stopped his pacing. Nick reached out to hold onto the sleeve of Charlie's hoodie, then realised distantly that it was his own hoodie.

"What is it?" Charlie gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Are you okay?"

Nellie whined up at him. Charlie petted her head absent-mindedly.

"It's just -" Nick breathed. "Look!"

Nick pointed toward the river, toward the far bank.

It took Charlie several seconds to realise what his boyfriend was talking about - but then he saw it. It was floating, partially tangled in some weeds, no more than a few feet away.

"Shit," said Charlie. "Fucking shit."

"Fucking shit is right. What do we do, Charlie? I don't know what to do!"

Charlie took several deep, steadying breaths.

Nothing like a good shock to get his brain back in gear after a food-induced panic attack.

He looked around desperately, not knowing what for exactly, but then his eyes fell over the rocks by the water's edge.

"Hang on," he said. "I think I have an idea."

"What are you -?"

Nick watched, confused as Charlie went over to the edge of the river and started collecting rocks. Charlie took aim and then began throwing them as hard as he could toward the gun in the water.

The second rock hit the gun and nudged it further into the weeds. The third moved it further still. Nick soon got the idea and joined the task.

Several minutes of frantic throwing later, and they both flopped down by the tree trunk, exhausted.

Nellie seemed a bit disappointed that all the throwing had not been for her to catch, and she settled down at their feet.

"I'm not sure that did that much," Charlie panted. "But it's something."

"I don't think you'd be able to notice it was there if you didn't know to look for it," said Nick, leaning a tired head against his boyfriend's shoulder. "That was an excellent idea. I forgot I was dating a genius."

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Charlie felt the fog begin to roll in again, so much so that he barely heard Nick's complimentary words.

"Hi, by the way," said Nick, removing his head to smile across at Charlie.

"Hi," Charlie breathed, forcing a smile.

Nick's face fell, concern filtered through his features as he studied Charlie's face. Up until that moment, Nick hadn't noticed just how pale Charlie looked. How world-weary and tired. How haunted.

"Char…"

Charlie had to look away from the intensity of Nick's concern.

"Oh God," said Nick. "I hope you didn't get in trouble for coming to meet me. I'm so sorry for making you sneak out. I didn't know what else to do. There wasn't anyone else I could call. I wasn't even sure if you would get my message -"

"It's okay…"

Suddenly, Charlie's narrow shoulders shuddered and he began to cry, huge racking sobs.

"Oh, Charlie…"

For a moment Nick held Charlie's face in his hands, tried to get him to look at him but then he soon gave up as Charlie flung himself forward into Nick's chest. Nick wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could, wishing he could hold Charlie together by sheer force of will and love.

"Shh… you're okay, my love… I've got you… I've got you… Shh…"

Charlie's breath came in sharp gasps that tore at Nick's heart painfully.

"Breathe, Char… listen to my breathing, yeah?"

Nick felt Charlie shift slightly so that his ear lay flat over Nick's heart.

He was practically laying across Nick's lap, cradled like a child as Nick continued to rock him, to stroke his back, kiss his curls, whisper sweet words.

Finally, Charlie became still in his arms. Almost too still, Nick thought.

The tears were still wet on Charlie's face but Charlie made no effort to wipe them away. In fact, his entire being seemed to have been cried out of him.

Something horrible struck against Nick's throat.

"Charlie? Are you alright?"

Charlie swallowed. It looked like hard work.

He blinked up at Nick through clouded eyes.

Charlie didn't want to say 'no'. But he also didn't want to lie.

A sudden snuffling puff of air against Charlie's hand made him flinch.

He and Nick looked down bleakly and saw Nellie sniffing at Charlie's limp hand in concern. A rough pink tongue licked lovingly against his palm.

"Stop that, Nellie," said Nick. "Don't be gross."

Nellie whined but stopped.

Charlie sat up to wipe the dog slobber on his jeans. He didn't notice the resulting smear came away slightly red but Nick definitely did.

Nick grasped Charlie's hands and looked again at the crescent shaped marks. "You're bleeding, Char."

"It's fine," said Charlie, tucking his hands away beneath the baggy sleeves of the hoodie. "I'm fine."

"It is not fine. They need to be cleaned and wrapped. You could get an infection."

"I said I'm fine, Nick!" Charlie scrambled to his feet, ashamed at having raised his voice but feeling too weak to stop himself.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, glimpsed the notification from 'Mum' and promptly turned it off. "I should go."

It was barely a whisper but Nick heard it, even as he got to his own feet. Charlie turned toward the path and Nick strode quickly after him.

"Charlie, wait! Please don't go!" Nick's voice cracked - the panic that had shot through him when Charlie had turned away…

But then Charlie turned back around to face him and Nick could barely contain his own tears.

"Let's… I would say we should go back to mine but David's still going to be there until this evening… But I don't care where we go or what we do as long as we stick together. I really, really don't want to leave you alone right now, okay?"

Nick thought for a horrible moment that Charlie might just turn around and run away but then, finally, Charlie breathed an "Okay."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know."

In the end, Nick managed to drag Charlie over to the park toilets to at least wash his bloody hands. Nick rolled up the sleeves of the hoodie and turned the tap on.

"It's probably going to sting…"

Nick guided Charlie's hands under the water and Charlie sucked in a breath. "It's freezing!"

"I'm sorry, my love, but it's better than nothing." Nick pressed the nearby soap dispenser a few times. "Crap. And there's no soap."

"That would probably only sting more to be fair," said Charlie.

He scrubbed his palms and watched the reddish crust fall away into the pink-tinged water. The cold had been a shock to start with but Charlie now welcomed the numbness. He continued scrubbing.

Nellie nosed the door open, displeased about having been left outside on her own for so long.

"We'll be out in a minute, Nel. Then we'll continue our walk, okay?"

Nick turned back to Charlie and found him now scrubbing his palms so hard they were starting to bleed afresh. "I think that's enough now, Char."

Nick turned the tap off and gently pulled Charlie's hands away. They were blotchy white and pink and freezing to the touch but most of the dried blood was gone.

Charlie shook his hands dry (the hand dryer was broken and there were no paper towels) and then stuffed them into the hoodie pocket, out of sight, not wanting to look at them.

Once they had set off down the riverside path though, one hand did make it's way back out to hold Nick's.

Nellie trotted happily in front of them as they walked along in comfortable silence, content to be together in nature, with only a few other dog walkers to disturb their solitude.

This had been exactly what Charlie had needed, he thought as Nellie half-heartedly chased a leaf which had blown across their path. The fresh air was definitely doing him some good. Being with Nick always helped, of course. With him there were never any expectations, no judgement, no demands to do anything he didn't want to do. Nick was his home.

They made it all the way to the hilltop overlooking the town before Charlie's feet began to tire. They flopped down on a bench to take a rest.

"I should have brought some snacks or at least some water," said Nick.

"Hmm…" Charlie cuddled into Nick's side and kissed his cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

Nick turned his head slightly and kissed Charlie on the mouth.

Charlie's hands were still cold against Nick's cheek but that only made him deepen the kiss further. For several wonderful, warming moments Nick and Charlie were gloriously wrapped up in their own bubble. But then they felt a warm weight appear on their knees.

The boys drew apart to see a pair of big brown eyes staring up at them. Nellie had her chin rested half on Nick's knee and half on Charlie's.

Charlie laughed. "We love you, too, Nellie!"

"Were you feeling left out? We love you, Nellie! Yes, we do!"

Nick and Charlie showered the dog with kisses and pets. Nellie was soon skipping about in delight, tail wagging, having finally got the attention she deserves.

"Ready to head home now then, Nellie?"

She was not.

"Come on, you."

Nellie reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled back down the path the way they had come.

On the way back, Charlie started to slow down considerably. Nick noticed he had started to drag his feet a little.

By the time the park gates came back into view, the colour Charlie had gained in his cheeks since earlier had vanished again. His hand hung limply in Nick's - Nick gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Let's go to mine, yeah? I'll ask my mum to keep David away from us. It'll be fine."

Charlie nodded gratefully.

But as they strode around the corner onto River Crescent, a car pulled up on the road beside them. The window wound down and Jane Spring glared at them from the driver's seat.

Charlie froze, grasping Nick's hand tightly as a reflex.

Nick tried to school his features into that of mild politeness. "Oh, hello, Mrs Spring," he managed. "We were just heading to mine for some lunch. I hope that's okay with you."

"Boof!" said Nellie.

"It's nice of you to offer but I'm afraid Charlie needs to come home with me. Now, Charlie."

Charlie took a deep breath and held his head up high. "No. I'm going to have lunch at Nick's."

Nick blinked, surprised but impressed - also slightly terrified at how Jane would react.

"Charles Frances Spring, I have had enough of your insolence today. First you violate family breakfast time with your dramatics, and then you blatantly disregard my attempts to keep you safe by running away like that. Honestly, Charlie, three teenagers have already been shot dead in this town, we don't need a fourth."

"I'm sorry, mum."

Nick watched, helpless, as Charlie withdrew back into himself. His face fell, his shoulders slumped, his hand fell out of Nick's as he opened the car door.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Charlie mumbled.

"Will you be okay?"

But the car door slammed shut and Jane drove Charlie away down the road.

It had been a stupid question anyway, Nick thought as he and Nellie headed toward home.

Despite the warm June air, Nick shivered.

Jane didn't say one word to Charlie all the way home.

The progress Nick had made in pulling Charlie out of his spiral was quickly unravelling again. By the time Jane pushed him into a seat at the kitchen table, Charlie knew there was no way he was going to be able to eat the food she slid in front of him.

He should have known running away like he had done this morning would only delay the inevitable. He had been stupid, being so reckless. He had only made things worse.

Just like he always did.

And now Charlie was back in the position he was in this morning, sitting in the same chair, staring at another impossible plate of food. Only now it was worse because his mum had sat down across from him to watch closely, not even with her own plate.

Charlie took a deep breath.

With one trembling hand he tore a corner off the sandwich. He squished the bread between his fingers experimentally. He tore off another piece.

Soon he had a small collection of evenly sized lumps of bread and cheese and ham…

Jane heaved a great long-suffering sigh. "Don't play with it. Just eat it, Charlie. It's not hard."

"I'm sorry."

"If you were sorry then you'd eat the lunch I prepared for you, and you would stop making everything into more than it needs to be, but here we are."

Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood up.

A flicker of hope - maybe she had had enough and Charlie would be able to sneak away.

But Jane made her way around the table toward him. She sat down beside him and Charlie immediately became even more tense.

Jane reached over and picked up one of the balls of sandwich.

For some reason Charlie knew what was coming next, even though she had never tried it before.

Still, nothing could have prepared him for the sickening horror that flooded him as his mum pressed the bread against his mouth.

Jane had obviously expected it to open but Charlie merely clamped his jaw shut tighter.

Charlie's hands shook so hard it spread up his arms. He felt the carefully washed crescents split open under his fingernails. He swallowed back the rising bile in his throat.

A tear trickled down over his lips and, for a fraction of a second, he opened his mouth.

And Jane took her chance.

Suddenly, bread was in his mouth and a hand was clamped over it.

He gagged, his eyes watering. His mouth was far too dry.

"Chew it, Charlie. Please just chew." Jane was breathing hard, her hand was shaking but firm over Charlie's mouth. "You have to. It's for your own good."

Charlie screwed up his eyes, and managed to chew the bread for all of two seconds. He gagged again, more intensely this time and Jane sensed danger.

She withdrew her hand and as she edged away, Charlie threw up spectacularly all over himself and the table in front of him.

"Now, really!"

The following several minutes passed in a blur of misery and humiliation.

Somehow Charlie found himself being hauled to his feet and up the stairs into the bathroom. His mum switched the shower on, chucked him a change of clothes and left him standing there, shaking from head to foot, without so much as a backwards glance.

Charlie stumbled to the shower and felt his knees give way. He collapsed into a heap against the corner and watched the cold water spatter his jeans, his socks, his hoodie…

Nick's hoodie was covered in vomit - again.

Disgusting. Weak. Pathetic. Unlovable.

Charlie pulled the hoodie over his head and threw it blindly onto the bathroom floor.

He didn't want to look at it. He didn't deserve the comfort his boyfriend's hoodie brought him. Not now.

Charlie wrapped his arms tightly around his knees, and tried to make himself as small as possible.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but by the time he raised his head again the water had warmed up and turned scalding.

Charlie withdrew his hands from where they had been clenched in his hair and studied the bloody marks once again. He watched the hot water wash away the red, remembering the gentleness of Nick's touch as he had removed them from the icy sink in the park toilets.

Their walk seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago, to someone else. Or else it had happened in a dream. Surely nobody could look at Charlie with so much love and affection after knowing and seeing how broken he was.

The dull pain in his hands was not enough.

He pulled himself to his feet, sliding a little in his soggy socks. He swiped the water off and stepped out onto the mat.

The floor was soaked. He hadn't closed the shower door.

He found nothing useful on the side by the sink.

He rummaged blindly through the contents of the cupboard underneath but still came away empty.

It had been a long time.

Charlie slammed the cupboard doors shut in frustration. He grasped the edge of the sink, allowing the cool porcelain to irritate the cuts on his palms.

But it still wasn't enough.

One second. He spied the shaving mirror.

Two seconds. He struck it hard against the side of the sink. The glass cracked.

Three seconds. Glass shattered across the floor.

The sound it made was kind of beautiful, along with the mess of refracting light at his feet.

A hand reached for one perfectly sized piece. He was a hair's breadth away from the release he needed but then -

The door burst open behind him.

"What on earth are you doing in here?" Jane barked.

Charlie sprang away from the shard, slipped on the wet floor in his haste and went sprawling into the corner. He landed hard beside the laundry basket.

"Did you break that? Goodness, what a mess. It's one thing after another with you lately. How could you be so careless? Exactly how I wanted to spend my afternoon, cleaning sick and now glass…"

She was still ranting away even as Charlie slipped out of the room.

In the cocoon of his bed, his biggest regret was failing to even try and swipe a shard from under his mum's nose.

Charlie lay there for hours. Nobody disturbed him. But that was fine by him.

The urge to cut was still doing it's best to push into the forefront of his mind but he knew, if he just stayed where he was, wrapped in his duvet, if he didn't move, then he wouldn't do it.

He wouldn't.

Just get up and do it -

No! Stay here! It's safe in here!

But it would be so easy -

No, Charlie! Stay here!

You'll feel better if you just get up and do it -

Don't!

Do it -

Don't!

Charlie was used to the voices in his head but the second one was new. It definitely seemed familiar though… He tried to cling onto it and block out the rest but - the rest were so loud.

When the sun had long set and his clothes had long dried, Charlie still lay awake.

His mind had fallen eerily silent.

His stomach rumbled.

From a safe distance, Charlie felt himself slide out from beneath the covers and move into the hallway, then slowly down the stairs.

The rest of the house was quiet and still, everyone else in bed asleep.

The kitchen was dark and shiny and peaceful. The knives in their block gleamed temptingly in their corner.

Charlie moved, trance-like across the linoleum floor. A steady hand grasped a small black handle.

It made a satisfying shing as it slid from its home.

I don't want you to die, Char. Not ever.

A drunken memory from several lifetimes ago. The same voice whispered in the back of Charlie's head.

Don't!

Charlie shivered and dropped the knife onto the counter.

Back across the kitchen and out into the hall. All he knew was that he needed to get out. Out and away.

He managed to slide his shoes on over his still-slightly-damp socks and clicked the front door behind him as quietly as he could.

The streets were dark and empty. The street lights had long been turned off.

He had no idea what time it was, nor did he particularly care.

Not once did he stop to consider the danger of being out alone in the middle of the night - in a town where some arsehole with a gun had recently been out murdering teenagers.

Charlie didn't meet a single other person as he crossed the housing estate. When the park entrance came into view, he wasn't surprised to find that that was where his feet had taken him, although he had had no plan when he had left home.

Through the gates and down the familiar riverside path.

Some kind of distant clarity came over him as he looked across the bank at the clump of weeds.

Without even removing his shoes, Charlie stepped into the water.

The riverbed was squishy under foot but the water only came up to his knees. A few steps in however and he was drenched to his waist.

His hand closed around the gun.

Walking back home with no way to hide his new charge should have concerned him more than it did.

Charlie slipped inside the hall, quickly and quietly. He turned on no lights as he crept up the stairs and closed his bedroom door behind him.

He chucked the gun down on the bed and stripped out of his soaked clothes. He pulled on some pyjamas quickly, avoiding his reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door.

This time, when he picked up the gun, his hands shook.

It would be so easy.

The thought flickered across his mind for a horrible second.

Tears trickled down his face as the shame set in.

He stifled a sob and threw open his wardrobe again. He rummaged through the junk at the bottom and found the old red school bag. He unzipped it, slipped the gun inside and then resealed it before he could let the darkest of thoughts tell him otherwise.

Charlie slammed the wardrobe door shut and breathed.

This was a heavy chapter... Poor Charlie :(

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