Page 55 of Deadmen's Queen

“You don't understand,” he muttered bitterly. “You can't help me.”

“I get panic attacks too,” I said quietly. “I had one at my last university, right in the canteen in front of hundreds of students. It was so humiliating.”

“What set you off?” he asked, still not looking at me.

“Someone dropped a plate,” I answered, shivering at the memory. “It crashed on the ground and smashed, and there was food everywhere. Everyone was laughing and cheering, and I just… froze.”

Nate didn’t say anything, but something told me he was listening, so I carried on, ignoring the little voice that told me to be quiet, to not say anything.

“I was about eleven. My mother made me carry the plates for me and my Dad to the table for dinner, and I tripped. I dropped the plates on the floor and they smashed. The food went everywhere.”

I swallowed, trying to summon the courage to keep going. It was only the thought that it might help that made me push on.

“My mother was so angry. She grabbed me by the hair and forced me down onto the floor. She screamed at me and told me we couldn’t afford to waste food, and I had to eat it off the floor.”

Now I was the one staring ahead into the dimly lit room, and I felt Nate turn and look at me.

“I remember. It was pork chops, chips, peas and gravy. Back when I was allowed to eat chips. She made me eat it off the floor, holding my hands behind my back. She said if I was going to behave like an animal, I could eat like one.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.

“My father had been drinking and he was hungry, and now there was no food. My mother tried to give him hers, but he threw the plate at her and yelled at me for making him hungry. He kicked me in the ribs over and over again, till I cried and begged him to stop. He stormed out then. My mother screamed at me again. It was my fault he’d walked out and if he never came back we’d be homeless. She sat there and made me eat every scrap of food off the floor, even making me lick up the gravy. Then I had to spend the night cleaning the kitchen till it sparkled.”

Nate shifted, stretching his legs out in front of him. Without a word, he pulled me onto his lap and held me close to him, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned against his chest, feeling his damp shirt, and realised it was from the tears running down my face.

“I never told anyone that before,” I said. “The others… Bast and Tristan… they can’t really understand.”

“No, they can’t,” he said softly. We lapsed into silence again, as he held me close.

“You didn't deserve that,” he finally whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was rough, but sounded more normal.

“No one deserves that,” I murmured back. “Not me, not you.”

He was silent again. I could sense he was wrestling with his own demons. This was more than just a party-induced panic attack; it was the darkness of his past reclaiming its hold on him.

“He put his hand on my shoulder,” Nate said finally. “Downstairs, at the party. In front of his friends, he touched me. And then he touched you, and I couldn’t… I’m such a fucking coward.”

My heart ached, as I started to put the pieces together. How he hated being touched, how much he detested his father, but was utterly terrified of him.

“Oh, Nate, you’re not a coward,” I said, looking up at him.

“If anyone else had touched you, I’d have punched them without thinking about it,” he growled. “No one touches what’s mine.”

“But you couldn’t because it was him?” I guessed, and he nodded.

“I had to get away to calm down, and I wasn’t thinking clearly, and then I came in here…” He gazed around the room and I felt the tension start to creep back into his body. “I haven’t been in here since the last time he…”

The last time. There have been multiple times. I felt sick, and horrified, and in a heartbeat I knew Nate could never find out about what had happened in his father’s office. That would go with me to the grave.

“How old were you?” I asked.

“Ten the first time,” he said, staring over my head. “I’d been out playing with the dogs that afternoon, and I’d let them into the entrance hall instead of taking them through the mudroom, and they left paw prints everywhere. He said it took the staff an hour to clean the mess up, and I needed to be punished. He… I…”

A tear ran down his face, and I felt as though my heart was breaking. Nate reached up, angrily brushing it away.

“He beat me with his belt afterwards for crying like a pussy. Said if I was going to be a pussy, he’d treat me like one.” He swallowed hard. “The last time, I was sixteen, and I’d started working out, training hard, you know?”

I nodded, not wanting to say anything. He needed to let this out.

He sighed. “I guess I was starting to bulk up, fill out. I didn’t look… right anymore.”