Page 131 of A Dark Fall
He nods, his mind ticking loudly.
“So, I assume you ‘touched her’ when you fucked her? So, you saying you never laid a finger on her wasn’t technically true, was it?” I’m being petty, and I hate myself for making this about the fact he fucked this woman when it’s about everything but that.
He sighs again, sounding tired now. “Yes, I fucked her once. Yes, I touched her then, but it was consensual, Alex. I never hit her before,during,or after. So, whatever that lying prick told you about it is bullshit, yeah?”
“And you have no idea what happened to her either, I assume? She stabs you with a knife, and then a week later, she’s beaten half to death. That’s purely a coincidence, I take it. I mean, seriously? You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to believe me, Alex. And trust me. Because you love me, remember?” he says, sad.
I glance away from him.
“Or do you only love me when I’m fucking you? When I’ve just made you come?”
I look back to find his eyes hard and mean again.
“Is it my cock that you love, baby? ’Cause in that case, we could have just done that bit—the fucking bit, you know—instead of all this love bullshit that, when it comes down to it, is apparently worth fuck all.”
I narrow my eyes and stare him down. I won’t even respond to that. Tohim.Mean, smirking Jake.
Finally, his eyes soften again as if he doesn’t have enough energy or desire to hold onto the rage. His shoulders slump, and he sighs loudly.
“I don’t know what happened to her, but I’ll find out. Trust me.”
Oh, that word again: Trust.
“Why were you in prison? When? And what for?” I ask, feeling bold all of a sudden.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you that bit? He told you a pile of bullshit about me, but the truth he left out?” He snorts derisively. “Sounds about fucking right.”
“Oh, he offered to tell me everything, but I told him I wanted to hear it from you.”
He gives me a long look and then runs his hand through his hair before nodding once as if he’s just made a difficult decision about something. When he moves toward me, I don’t flinch this time. He walks past me to the dining table, where he pulls out a chair and indicates for me to sit down.
“I’m fine standing,” I tell him.
“Please sit down, Alex,” he says softly.
“Oh, so this is the part I should sit down for?”
He sighs. “Please.”
Because my whole body feels weighted down, I walk toward him slowly and sit. Jake takes a seat to my right, leaning forward on his elbows with his hands together and steepled under his chin. At one point, he places his palms flat on the table and slides a hand toward me as though he might take mine in his, but he doesn’t. He drops his hands onto his lap and leans back in the chair. When he finally opens his mouth to speak, his whole body deflates, shoulders dropping and the tension lifting off them before my eyes.
“I was sixteen and utterly out of control,” he starts. “Jon had fucked off to the army by then, and I hadn’t seen my mother for close to five years, so I was on my own. No one to answer to for whatever shit I did, and no one who gave a shit what I did. I started drinking when I was ten, I think. It was easier to get a hold of stuff than you’d believe. I mean, they call them care homes, but honestly, no one fucking cares. No one gives a shit.” He laughs, but it’s a sad, empty noise.
“Anyway, by the time I was fifteen, I was on something every day. Coke, speed, pills—prescription or not, didn’t matter—anything I could get my hands on, really.” He flicks his eyes up to check my reaction to this. As far as I’m aware, it’s impassive. “None of this is an excuse for the things I did, it’s ...”—he shrugs—“context. Anyway, the guys I hung around with were always older and just as bad—worse even. Their hobbies were stealing cars, robbing houses, dealing. I used to tag along, happy to have something to do and people who didn’t mind having me around. At one point, one of the older guys got a job at a security depot and told us about a safe in the office. Told us the duty guys had the codes. I wasn’t told any details—I was only supposed to be the lookout.” He runs a hand over the back of his neck and focuses on a point on the table. “Anyway, it went wrong. The guy on shift didn’t know the code and somehow managed to press a panic button. It was a total fuckup. We got separated when we split. I got caught.”
It’s not what I was expecting. Not at all.
I shift forward in my seat. “You were fifteen?”
He nods.
“So, you were a child and a lookout? You couldn’t have been given much of a sentence.”
Some hope floods into his eyes for a moment, but then it’s gone again. “I took part in the beating of the security guy. He was messed up pretty badly. Lost an eye. I hit him with a baseball bat a few times, and he identified me in court. What did me in though was that I wouldn’t talk. I gave them nothing on the others. That was worse to them. I got four years.”
Oh, god, that seems cruel. Too cruel for a damaged teenager from a broken home.