Page 110 of Monarch
A little sob hiccups out of Roos, and Mari’s hand reaches over me and grabs her forearm. I don’t know if it’s a touch of reassurance or a warning to be quiet and not stop me talking, but I can’t seem to stop the words now I’ve started.
“It wasn’t every night, but it was every week. It wasn’t always painful or long, but there was always something. Some touch that hurt me. Some words that made me feel sick. Some promise I didn’t know if I was supposed to love or hate. I was so confused. That’s the worst part; he made me so deeply confused, and when that happened, I just sort of froze, mentally. I didn’t think about it, even when it was happening. I would escape into my own head. I would imagine the things I wanted to draw or colour in. I could see them in my mind’s eye. Dragons and knights and castles and mountains and unicorns. And then, as I grew older, zombies and vampires and monsters and ghosts. Often, after he was finished, I was too wired to sleep, so I would put my light on and draw all the things I’d imagined. I think that’s where my insomnia started.” I nudge my head against Mari’s. “And it’s definitely where I started to lean on art as a crutch. Art became the escape I so craved.”
Mari hums a soft, acknowledging noise, and Roos kisses the top of my head.
“By the time I was finishing primary school, I had gotten so good at escaping into my own head that I forgot to fight back. I just switched off. I just left my body and became safe inside my mind. And then, when I had pages and pages of sketches, each one technically better than the last, I almost felt proud of myself. Not only was I keeping everything a secret like he told me to – even though there had been so many times when I’d wanted to scream the truth at my mother, my grandmother, or one of my brothers – I had stayed quiet and I had turned the torrid experience into something good. I wasgood at art. I knew it then, and that was another potential escape route. Even at eleven or twelve, I was thinking ahead to when I could leave home and be free of his knobbly-knuckled hands and his tobacco breath.”
“Fuck,” Mari hisses, and Roos sniffs again. I know she’s crying, and I itch to stop talking so her tears stop, but I know that’s not what she wants.
“When I got to secondary school and met you, Mari, more things changed. Firstly, my body started to change. I was never going to be tall, but I filled out. Got tits, curves, and hair started growing everywhere. He didn’t like that. He told me to shave – even bought me a packet of crappy supermarket disposable razors. You know, I looked at the blade in those razors for a long, long time the night he left them on my bedside table. I wondered how I could pry one of them out and see what damage they could do. But I didn’t because the next day I had a double period of art, and I was halfway through this really cool clay sculpture that I wanted to finish.”
Mari huffs out a soft laugh, and I find myself smiling with them.
“Anyway, he didn’t come into my room as often in those years, and my God, that felt good. I got breathing space for the first time in five or more years. I didn’t get into bed on high alert every night. And I felt confident enough to ask people for sleepovers. It feels naïve now, stupid, even, but I never thought he’d touch one of my friends. I think I still believed his special friendship lies, which I guess makes me the idiot.”
“No,” Roos says firmly. “Never.”
“Do you remember that first sleepover we had, Mari?”
They nod. “I do.”
“We were like thirteen or something. We made a bed for you on the floor next to my single bed, and we talked nearly all night. Or rather, I did. I was talking and talking and didn’t realise you fell asleep. I know now I was doing it to wait and see if he came in. Istayed awake all night to make sure he didn’t. Do you remember I fell asleep in geography the next day and got a detention?”
Another gentle laugh. “Yeah, I remember.”
“When he didn’t come in, I realised that this was another deterrent. So I asked you to sleep over more and more. It wasn’t just because of him. It was also because you were my best friend, and I felt good around you. You made me forget him. That hadn’t happened before.”
“And then your mum got you a double bed so I didn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore,” Mari adds.
“Yeah, it was Bodi’s, and I got it when he went off to uni. I think we were fourteen when that happened, right?”
“Yeah. About that.”
“That was when I was falling in love with you,” I admit. “For the first time.”
“Even then?” Mari sounds surprised. “We didn’t have our first kiss until two years later.”
“Oh, I know. It felt like eternity waiting for that,” I say, flooded with nostalgia – the good kind. “But yes, I was already in love with you back then. Honestly, it was possibly because I discovered I was safe from him when you were there. He didn’t even talk to me when you were at our house. Didn’t even look at me or you.”
“I always thought that was because I was queer and non-binary,” Mari says.
“Yes, possibly. That was another thing that put him off me, I think,” I muse. “But also, he could tell I loved you. He was envious.”
“Did he stop?” Roos pipes up, and she sounds desperate for the answer to her question.
“Yes,” I say, and a twisted smile lands on my lips. “The day after I turned sixteen, I asked for a lock for my bedroom door. Mum was hesitant. I think she already thought you and me were fucking, Mari. But my grandmother strangely supported the idea. Said I needed myprivacy. It was no surprise my grandfather sided with Mum, and considering he was the one who did all the DIY jobs in our house, I thought that was the end of it. But by that time, I’d already established myself as a rebel. I’d gotten that tattoo in Bath with a fake ID – do you remember?” Mari nods. “And I’d dyed my hair all the colours of the rainbow and given myself that godawful undercut. So I just woke up one day and decided to do it myself. I went to B&Q, asked a man for help, and I left there with two locks and a screwdriver.”
“I remember you putting those locks on your door,” Mari says. “I watched you do it. I remember thinking you looked so hot.”
It’s a testament to how fucked up my life is that this comment makes me blush even while I feel like I’m vomiting up my soul.
“So he just stopped?”
“Well, yes, but also because I bought a sledgehammer in B&Q.”
“What?” Mari asks as Roos gasps.
“Yep,” I say with a new buzz of energy in my veins. “I saw it while I was there and figured it was worth a try.”
