Page 29 of A Sorrow of Truths

“I already have done.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“But you said you wanted your truths.” My brow deepens into a scowl, as I look back at him, my mind trying to work out what that means. “Here is one of them.” The horse goes upwards and snorts, more impatience rearing up in my face. I scuttle backwards in fear regardless of the fence, still unable to process sense in this scenario. “Walk the line with me,” he says, calmly.

I start moving cautiously, part drawn closer to him and part needing the fence for stability against him. I don’t know what any of this is, or why he’s on the other side of this barrier. It’s like a compound. Maybe that’s his house. I gaze at it, as I listen to the sound of the horse’s feet scampering around heavily. It’s spooked about something. The irony is not lost on me at the moment. All this is more surreal than Malachi’s castle, making me feel like I’m one step closer to needing a straight-jacket that I’m pretty sure this place has several of.

“How do you feel?” he asks, quietly.

“Am I mad?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

I look at the ground, the sky, the sun beginning to set behind him on the horizon. Everything seems normal. No Malachi says, or rabbit holes. No fogged vision or blurred outlines. “No.”

“Good.”

“Then why am I here? And why are you there? And who are those other women?”

A sigh comes from him, long and laboured, and then he smokes for a few minutes again rather than answer the question. “Gray?”

“There are rules to taking the pills. You didn’t follow them.” The horse scuttles sideways, air huffing out of its nose. “This is all my land, my house behind me.” I peer at the vast expanse of brickwork in the distance, perhaps having not fully appreciated his wealth before now. “And those women are part of the truths I told you you did not want to know about me.”

The gap in the fence appears in front of me, as he finishes the sentence, and I come to a halt and look at him through the large gates blocking the exit or entrance. “Are they mad?”

He smiles a little and jumps down from the horse, leading it towards the gates and me. “Not permanently.”

No more words than that. Just him looking at me as this massive, chestnut brown animal paws the ground and huffs around skittishly. He’s as unfazed by it as he was earlier, as he holds the reins securely and lets it whirl some more. And those eyes keep themselves directed solely on me, no matter what’s happening around him. Time seems to stall at that, like it did at the castle. Only this time it feels uncomfortable, as if I should fill the space rather than just let it be and wait for him to move into me.

“That thing looks angry,” I mumble, as I watch it jumping and kicking out at nothing.

His smile twitches again, eyes springing to life as if he’s amused. No words, though. Nothing to make the atmosphere relaxed and easy between us, if that ever was what we were about.

Eventually he walks another few steps forward, bringing both him and his horse within touching distance if this gate wasn’t between us. “She’s young, confused,” he says, reaching a hand to its muzzle and stroking softly. “Doesn’t quite understand what being controlled is yet. Nor does she particularly enjoy the thought.”

The skitting about seems to stop instantly, the horse's body stepping in closer and butting at him gently with its head. I remember that. Soft hands. Soft lips. I watch him touch her for a while, near mesmerised by the way he seems at ease next to her fire. I leant on him like she’s leaning into him now, rested and calmed myself near him. And then we kissed, made love, connected ourselves by something other than this ordinary out here. But now I’m trapped behind wire, caged in as if I’m not capable of sound decisions.

“Have you eaten?” he suddenly asks.

The question breaks me of my fascination, making me look back at his face. “Not really.”

“Hungry?”

My shoulders shrug, and I look at the floor. I don’t know. I’m lost again, unsure out here without the pills to lead me. And he’s being someone I don’t recognize in some respects. Or maybe I don’t recognize me out here without the pills and that makes him seem like someone I don’t know.

My hands tighten their grip on my arms, insecurity making me feel pathetic and alone, and I turn to see that Ridley person still hanging around like a spare part half a field off.

“Ever ridden anything?” My eyes fly up to find his smile broadening slightly, more of the man I do know on show this time. He looks me up and down, eyes darkening to match the stormy sky above him. “Apart from me, that is.”

I’m not in the mood for jokes. “I’ve ridden one other thing than you. It wasn’t a horse.”

“Did it make you come as many times as I did?”

My own smile twitches a little for the first time, comfortable with this type of honesty with him. “No. It didn’t hurt me as much as you did either.”

The sudden, loud clank of metal makes me jump, feet stumbling backwards and gaze flicking around for whatever it is. It’s only when I hear a whirring begin that I realise the gates are opening.

“How did I hurt you?” he says, as I watch him walk through them purposefully.