Page 128 of Lunar Diamonds
He nodded, turning to face me, crossing his legs. “I’m scared of the dark, of small spaces. I hate them.” His bottom lip quivered. “I… I… Shit.”
I cupped his face, leaning in. “You don’t have to talk if it’s too much.”
He closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath then exhaling slowly. “I owe you an explanation for the silent treatment.”
“You don’t. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I?—”
“My parents died in a car crash,” he said.
I clamped my mouth shut to listen.
“I was five, sitting in the back of our car. Driving home from a late summer holiday in Whitby.” He scratched his stubble. “Too late to drive. Dad…” His eyes glistened. “He was so tired. Should’ve pulled over, should… Shit. Sorry.”
I took his hands. “Take your time.”
His eyes were on the wall behind me, still shining with the threat of tears.
“I need a shot of something.”
I sprang into action, pouring two shots of vodka at the mini bar.
“I didn’t mean you had to get me one,” he said.
I hurried back, giving no craps at my nudity. “Here.”
He took a shot glass. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
We drank at the same time.
Yikes. Neat vodka was, well, something. Oof.
Drake carried on with his story, his hands back in mine. “Dad lost control of the wheel, speeding off the road. Mum was asleep, waking up just as we crashed.” His breath trembled, his hands tightening around mine. “Crashed into woodland along the side of the road. I remember… I remember the screams so clearly.The scraping metal, the glass…” He shuddered, closing his eyes. “Fuck.”
I fetched him more vodka.
After another shot, he said, “A branch came through the windscreen, killing my dad. Mum… Mum’s head hit her window too hard. She died instantly, too. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” A single tear broke free, rolling down his left cheek.
I caught it with my thumb. “You can stop if this is too hard to talk about.”
He shook his head, taking deep breaths. “It’s alright. I want to say this.”
“More vodka?” I asked, my heart aching for him.
“No. Thanks. I… I was trapped in that car most of the night. In the dark, the seatbelt stuck. Man, it was cold—one of those chilly late summer nights. Crying for them. Desperate to be found. It wasn’t until about four in the morning when witchcops on patrol found me.” He ran a hand over his face before returning it to mine. “After that… Fuck.” He steadied himself with another deep breath. “After that, I went into care, got adopted by a woman who locked me in her basement for punishment.”
He told me about Sandra, his adoptive mother. A vile woman who married an abusive man who hit Drake. Put him in the hospital after breaking his jaw.
I wanted to be sick.
“Social services intervened after that,” he said. “Planned on putting me back into care after I recovered. But fuck that. I ran. In the dead of night, I ran for my life. Hitchhiked from Brighton to Norwich. Slept rough for a while, then started getting jobs with my powers until I made enough to rent a studio flat above a chip shop.”
More tears rolled free. I caught them with the pads of my thumbs. “Drake…”
“It’s still my place now.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
