Behind the Tears (Behind the Lives) (25 page)

He jerked upwards. “Yes, there is! I fuck everything up. Everything!” he yelled, his emotions controlling his body like a puppet master.

She pushed off the bed, almost falling over the tangle of clothes at her feet.

He reached out, then whipped his hands back as though he was afraid to touch her. “Get dressed.”

“But, I wanna stay—”

“No, you hafta leave.”

“Why?”

“I’m sick; go before I hurt you again.” He went to his knees, searching through the clothes on the floor. “I need my meds, I need my meds...”

Wanting to calm him, Beth bobbed down and placed a hand on his back. He smacked it away, causing her to fall onto her butt. He started talking fast in Croatian, the words “I’m sorry” the only ones she recognised. He refocused on the floor, getting more and more worked up when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Not taking her eyes of him, she started dressing, wondering again whether he was on drugs.

Dante’s focus shifted back to her as she pulled on her skirt. “I scare every chick away.”

She stopped doing up the zip.

He got to his feet. “Go on then, run away like everyone else.”

“I’m not running,” she said, reaching out for him.

He backed into the cabinet. “Don’t touch me.”

“But, I wanna hold you.”

“No, get dressed and go away.”

“But, you just said—”

“Leave!”

She grabbed her blouse and pulled it on. “I needa know you’ll be alright.”

“Just go.”

She backed towards the doorway, then hesitated. “Will you be alright?”

He picked up a CD and threw it at the wall. “Go, dammit!”

She turned and ran down the passage, heading for the dining-room. She grabbed the phone off the breakfast bar, quickly dialling Sledge’s number. The front door opened, making her drop the phone.

Ash stepped inside, looking shocked to see her. “What the fuck are you doin’ ’ere?” His eyes lowered to her ripped blouse. “For Christ’s sake, you can’t help yourself, can you?” A crash came from Dante’s room, snapping Ash’s head up. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Dante’s gone nuts.”

Beth followed Ash down the passage. They stopped in Dante’s doorway, both of them watching as Dante trashed his bedroom.

“What are you doin’?!” Ash hollered.

Dante looked over at Ash, his eyes frantic. “Someone stole my meds.”

“I told ja not to take meth.”

“Not meth, you fuckwit,
meds
.”

Ash shot across the room, shoving Dante onto the bed. Dante went to punch Ash, but got an arm clamped across his throat instead. “Stay!” Ash yelled.

Dante tried to push Ash away. “You bastard, I bet you took ’em. Give ’em back!”

Ash pressed down, making Dante choke. “I didn’t take any of your shit!”

Beth grabbed Ash around the waist, trying to pull him away from Dante. “Get offa him!”

Ash slackened the pressure on Dante and glared back at her. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Nuthin’,” she said, backing off.

“I doubt it with him naked and you half dressed.”

“He thought he hurt me, but he didn’t. I think he might be on drugs.”

“Gimme back my meds!” Dante yelled. “The doc gave ’em to me.”

Ash looked back at Dante. “What’re you talking ’bout?”

Dante started cursing.

“Stop swearing, so I can bloody understand you.”

“I need my medication.”

“What medication?”

“Bipolar.”

Ash’s back went rigid. “Why didn’t cha tell me this sooner?”

“I’m telling ya now, so give ’em back.”

“But, I didn’t take ’em.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll get you some new ones.”

Dante thanked Ash, his voice almost hysterical, then he started babbling nonstop, saying he hated whoever had stolen his meds and that the person should burn in Hell, followed by a torrent of swearwords.

“I can’t let you go until you calm down,” Ash said.

Dante stopped swearing, his tone changing in an instant from angry to apologetic as he begged Ash to release him, his broken voice making Beth cry.

She wiped at her cheeks. “What’s happening to him?”

“I think he’s having an episode,” Ash said, his expression sad. “Our father used to swear like this when he went off the deep end. And right now you seem to be the trigger, so you better leave.”

Not needing anymore explanation, Beth turned and ran, barely noticing Juliet as she flew through the house, desperate to escape what she had done to Dante—and what he was doing to her now.

20

Corey

Corey lay on the hospital bed with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. The other patients in the room chatted to their friends or family, comfortable in their familiarity. But all he felt was discomfort, and not only from his badly bruised ribs and sore gut, but from Sledge sitting behind him for the past hour; occasionally prodding his back and asking if he was awake. Corey wished he could talk to him, but couldn’t make himself. He felt humiliated, and worse, scared that Sledge would look at him with disgust.

Sledge prodded his back again. Corey tensed, his nerves raw.

“I saw that,” Sledge said. “You’re awake, aren’t cha?”

Corey remained silent.

“Are you too chicken shit to look at me?”

Yes.

“Well, I ain’t leaving until you do.”

Just go away...

“There’s no use ignoring me, cos this chair is real comfy, I could stay here forever.”

...go away...

“Or are you crying like a li’l girl again?”

“Go away!”

Sledge went silent, then his voice hardened. “Nice, real nice. You ignore your best mate for over an hour cos you’re too much of a pussy to face him.”

Corey fisted the bed-sheet. “You beat up Tyler when he did nuthin’ wrong.”

Sledge sniffed. “Tyler breathing is wrong, and you’re not allowed to see him again.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Corey turned over, quickly regretting it. Sledge looked more than pissed. Corey forced himself to continue, “Tyler had nuthin’ to do with what happened to your brothers, so you had no right to hurt him. And what he did with me wuz my idea.” A lie, but Sledge didn’t need any more encouragement to hurt Tyler.

“I had every right!” Sledge shouted.

Corey cringed as the room went silent. “Just go away.”

Sledge leaned forward, his expression vicious. Although Sledge looked nothing like Ash, it was the first time Corey could see the family resemblance—violence their common parent. He’d always known Sledge had a volatile side, but it had never been directed at him before. Not able to handle it, Corey closed his eyes.

“What?” Sledge said. “You can’t even look at me now?”

“Why won’t you go away?”

“I will after you look at me, and tell me why the fuck you went with that worthless piece of shit.”

“No, it’s got nuthin’ to do with you, and stop insulting him.”

“It is when you use my sister, then go off with Tyler to spite me.”

Corey’s eyes shot open. “Why would I go with Tyler to spite you? I told ja he’s got nuthin’ to do with you.” Corey froze as Sledge moved his face within a whisper of his. Sledge’s features softened, his eyes fixated on Corey’s as though he was going to kiss him. Corey held his breath, willing it, then the visage was shattered, Sledge’s features returning to vicious once more.

“If you go near Tyler again, I’ll rip that butt-fucker apart piece by piece. You won’t even recognise him once I’ve finished.”

“You keep away from him, Tyler’s not like his father or uncle.”

“They’re all the same: Pākehā scum.”

“Don’t say that word! And Tyler didn’t use me, he wuz really nice.”

“I bet he was. I’m really nice to bitches too when I want them to drop their knickers.”

“I’m not a bitch! And it wuzn’t like that.”

“Bullshit, I bet he got a nice piece of your girly arse. And now I know why you were always showing me it, cos you wanted me to fuck you too.”

Corey screwed up his face, willing himself not to cry. “No, it wuzn’t like that,” he repeated.

“Didja think of me when he pounded you? I bet you called out my name again.” He sneered. “Well, you might as well dream, cos I don’t want anything to do with your faggot arse.”

Corey recoiled. He was wrong. Naf hadn’t made him feel disgusting yesterday, because he hadn’t wanted to stuff himself full of drugs so that he didn’t wake up like he did now. He closed his eyes as the tears started. He couldn’t stand seeing his best mate, the person he loved more than anyone else, hate him.

He heard Sledge grunt, then the chair clattered on the floor. He opened his eyes as Sledge stomped out of the room.

A female voice called out Sledge’s name.

Corey quickly wiped his eyes. “Mum?”

His mother walked into the room. She looked like an older version of Beth, but closer to a sister than a mother, with her unwrinkled complexion, long black hair and slim figure adding to the illusion. Her expression dropped. “Oh, my good Lord, what happened, love?” she said, rushing to his bed.

Corey fidgeted under the covers, not wanting her to know. “I banged into sumpthin’.”

“But your face.”

“I’m not in here cos of that. I fell over and bruised my ribs this morning. The doc just wanted to make sure I wuz alright cos of the cancer.”

“Who hurt your face?”

“I don’t know them, and it looks worse than it feels.”

“Didja inform the police?”

“No, Mum, it wuz just one unlucky punch, I’m already over it.”

“Was it at a party? You know you’re not s’posed to be goin’ to dangerous places—”

“Mum, please stop.”

She frowned, then picked up Sledge’s chair and sat down. She took his hand, running a thumb over the back of it. “I worry ’bout you, love. You’re always gettin’ hurt. You should stop this nonsense and come home.”

“You know why I can’t,”
cos Dad hates me being gay.
Everyone hates me being gay, but not as much as I do, cos if I wuzn’t I wouldn’t love Sledge so much.

A flash of anger flickered through her eyes. “Your father can move out if he has a problem.”

“I don’t wanna cause trouble, Mum.”

“You’re not, he is.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve got my own place now, and at least I’m with Naf.”

“Don’t call your brother names.”

“It’s just a nickname, everyone but you and Dad calls him Naf.”

She shook her head. “I know what it means, so I don’t wanna hear you say it again.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

She breathed out. “And what’s wrong with Sledge? Why did he storm out?”

“He’s upset I’m hurt,” Corey lied. His gaze shifted back to the doorway, realising his father was standing there. His old man lifted his chin in an awkward hello, then focused on something down the corridor. Corey used to think he looked like him, but realised once he’d lost the weight the only similarities were their short stature, pale complexion and reddish-brown hair—when he’d had it.

He pulled his beanie over his eyebrows, the only bit of hair that hadn’t fallen out along with his eyelashes. He guessed he was lucky that he still had them, because he’d seen some cancer patients who’d lost everything, followed by their lives.

“Why’s Dad here?” he asked.

“He was concerned about you, love.”

Corey withheld a sneer for his mother’s sake. His father had no concern for him, otherwise he wouldn’t have chucked him out after finding gay porn on his computer, or would have asked him to come back when he’d been diagnosed with cancer.

“What did the doctor say?” his mother continued. “Are you well enough to have radiotherapy tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, and I hope they’re letting you stay overnight, cos you’re looking far too skinny, sweetheart. Apart from today, how’s your stomach been feeling?”

Corey frowned at the name
sweetheart
, remembering Sledge’s taunt. “It’s fine, and I’m not staying tonight,” he said, wondering where he could go, because there was no way he was going anywhere near Sledge after today.

His mother took his hand. “No, Corey, please stay.”

“I hate hospitals. I’m in here enough as it is.”

“Then move back in with us. I’ll look after you, and will make sure you eat properly.” She moved a hand to his arm. “You’re far too skinny,” she repeated.

Corey looked back at his father, who continued to stare down the corridor. “No, I’ll stay here,” he lied.

“I still want you to reconsider coming home. I know you like being with your friends and brother, but they can’t take care of you like I can.”