Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (12 page)

‘It’s the alcohol.’

Fay pushed him off her. ‘Okay.’ She stood up and walked to the bedroom. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

‘Does Col go down on women?’ Fay asked Dave when he joined her in bed. She rolled onto her side away from him.

‘Yeah, he loves doing it.’

She closed her eyes. ‘I can imagine.’

‘He’s had a lot of experience,’ Dave explained, still drunk. ‘He’s a good-looking bloke. It depends what a woman’s looking for, whether she wants a… man who’s physically impressive, unpredictable and cold, or someone who’s sensitive, committed and genuine.’

‘Hmm.’ Fay raised her eyebrows.

‘I mean, Ryan’s a good friend to me, but I wouldn’t like to go out with him.’

‘Didn’t you say something about his parents?’ Fay asked.

Dave moved onto his side and stroked her hair. ‘They were both psychopaths. His father, Will, gave him the aggression, the intolerance and the…determination. Karen gave him nothing but paranoia and fear. She was evil.’

‘His mother?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What did she do to him?’

‘I’m not in a position to say.’

She turned over and touched his shoulder. ‘You won’t tell me?’

She sounded disheartened, as though he’d revealed to her that they weren’t as close as she’d believed. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. She’d given herself to him. The least he could do was assure her of his affection. They got on so well, he could trust her. He wanted to.

‘You are sworn to secrecy,’ he told her. ‘No one else must hear this.’

‘Yes, I understand.’ She snuggled up closer to him.

‘She used to poke him at night.’

‘What?’

‘Karen used to wake up in the middle…of the night purposely to torture him. She’d quietly crawl to his bed and hide below it. Then she’d reach over the top and poke his body.’ He shook his head at Fay and resentment consumed his features. ‘He’d stir beneath the…covers and finally wake up, wondering why he had. Then he’d feel a finger poke his ribs. He’d roll over, terrified, and she’d crawl around the other side and do it…again. He just lay there sobbing his heart out, trembling with fear, while she per…sisted, digging her fingers all over his body.’ Dave felt his eyes closing, but forced himself to finish. ‘Sometimes, when his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he’d see a…hand whip away, but he was too petrified to face whatever it might be. Most of the time he kept his eyes shut tight, willing the nightmare to go away. He could hear muffled giggling all around him. And every now and then, she’d use a…small garden fork to confuse him. She was having so much fun that she didn’t want him to find out it was her, because then he wouldn’t be scared.’

Fay clamped her hand on her mouth. ‘Oh...my...God!’

‘In the mornings, she’d wake him up, but he’d plead to stay in bed, because he knew what she’d do if she saw the urine stain. So he’d lie on it, until she pulled him away. Then she’d scream at him and spank him until he was black and blue.’ A tear formed in the corner of his eye. ‘He’d tell her why he’d done it, about the poking, but she’d just laugh at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, you soft little shite!” she’d shout. He’d beg her to let him sleep with her at night, promising her that he wouldn’t wet the bed. Of course he wouldn’t - she’d protect him, wouldn’t she? Obviously she never let him, so every night he was afraid…to close his eyes.’ Dave buried his face in Fay’s chest. ‘I’m not a violent man, but I could have killed that woman.’

‘How old was he?’ Fay whispered.

‘It started when he was three, ended when he was eleven.’

‘Jesus Christ! How could she do that? He was just a baby!’

‘I know. And that was just a small part of his ordeal with her-’

‘I can’t listen to anymore. Child abuse tears me up.’

When Dave woke, his head thumped and he felt bedsprings digging into his back. Instantly he remembered the conversation he’d had with Fay and regretted it. Fay was already up and minutes later returned to the bedroom. She eased herself onto the mattress and hugged him. Then her fingers wandered over his body.

She spent ten minutes stimulating his penis with her hands, mouth and breasts. He couldn’t get hard.

18

The autumn air was damp along the riverbank, but the dirt track still firm. Tall reeds lined their path, brown and crispy. Ben ran his fingers along the stems - they felt like a fence; the flexibility had gone. Ahead, a faint mist caressed the water, like a portal to another life. His limbs felt charged. He released Jenny’s hand, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her toward him.

He stared at the mist and wished that both of them could walk through it and come out the other side as a true couple – feeling unconditional love for one another. He was ready for this. Admittedly, they had much to learn about each other, but that would only draw them closer. He was so adamant about this that it frustrated him. It was as if he knew an answer that everyone else was searching for, but they all ignored him when he told them, preferring to break their backs to find out for themselves. Inside, Jenny probably felt the same assurance as he did, but, unlike him, she resisted it.

A sloping platform, scarred by initials inscribed before the cement had dried, broke up the reeds. They sat on it and let their legs dangle over the side of the bank. Jenny had a thick blue jumper on, a pink scarf and jeans. He wore a grey T-shirt and navy jogging bottoms.

‘Aren’t you cold?’ she asked, feeling his tricep.

‘No. I don’t feel it much.’

‘I wish I was like that. I can’t sleep without an electric blanket.’

Ben smiled. ‘I could save you some money.’

She playfully pushed his shoulder. ‘I trust my blanket, thanks.’

For minutes, they gazed at the clear, flowing water.

‘See those fish?’ he asked, pointing beneath them.

‘Yes’.

‘They’re just one species of millions of different life forms. That could have been me. I could be swimming there right now. I could have been anything, but I happened to be human. And of all the different religions I could’ve been born into, mine happened to be Christianity. And of all the countries I could have been born in, mine happened to be England. Of all the counties I could be living in right now, mine happens to be London… And of all the nightclubs I could have visited on Friday, September 7, 1990, The Cube happened to be my choice. And of all the girls I could have talked to, I talked to you.’ He looked at her; she appeared deep in thought. ‘Doesn’t that seem pre-determined to you?’ he asked. ‘Or just coincidence?’ He squeezed her hand.

Her blue eyes were sparkling. ‘Neither really. You kinda stalked me.’ She rested her head on his shoulder.

He laughed. ‘You’re heartless, you know.’

Jenny inhaled the fresh air, which had been moistened by the river’s gentle spray. These past few weeks she’d felt different. When she’d first started dating Ben, she’d felt an apprehensive kind of happiness. Now she just felt happiness. This was their sixth date and she felt the kind of contentment that dispels the intensity of loneliness to an inaccessible place. Amazingly, she couldn’t now recreate its feeling of emptiness. She knew it was too soon to feel this way, but emotion had overpowered her. They were impossible to ignore.

‘What’re you thinking?’ he asked.

‘Private thoughts.’

‘Leave it to me to open up, as usual…’ He looked at her. ‘I was going nowhere, convincing myself I was having a good time. I didn’t realise how deluded I was until I met you.’ He placed his hands on her temples. ‘This is what it’s all about. You’re helping me forget the past.’

Jenny rubbed his hair between her fingers. ‘What happened to you, Ben?’

He shrugged and then flicked a stone into the water. ‘You don’t need to know. It’s pretty much behind me now. I don’t like to relive it. I get angry and there’s nothing I can do about it.’ He knew it could frighten her off, a consequence he couldn’t risk. ‘All that matters is the future. Nothing from the past can threaten what we have.’

‘Promise me you won’t hurt me, Ben. I worry about that.’

He gently held her face in his hands. ‘Jenny, I will never hurt you and I will never let you be hurt by anyone.’

19

As she lay on her bed, Stacey stared through the net curtain. It hid scratches she’d made in the window when she’d scraped away paint marks some time ago. Her thoughts did not involve anything she could see, however. Again she was focusing on that which could not be seen – a deeper meaning.

Col had degraded her, made her feel that she was nothing. When he’d left her that night, she’d rushed to lock every door and window and barricaded herself in her room. She’d felt so violated and alone. She was a child again, scared of shadows and dependent. On that dreadful night there had been no one to turn to. What had she done? How could she have been so stupid? She had been so desperate for a man, for love, that she had abandoned her faculties and forsaken everything she’d been taught. She felt disgusted, and her self-esteem had plummeted. It was the most horrible feeling and she’d sworn to herself that she’d never take him back.

That was then.

Now, nearly a month after the incident, she felt differently. Not that she’d gone back on her promise to herself, but because of a conversation she’d had with Fay. She’d learnt about Col’s abominable mother and the terror of his childhood. Although more extreme than she expected, his experiences reinforced what she already believed about him.

It hadn’t surprised her that she’d been proved right about his need. She had a special quality in understanding people. Terrible experiences had moulded Col into a cold and damaged person. But not irreparably…

A hideous industrial building dwarfed the back of her house, casting a depressing darkness over her room. She tried to counteract this with a happy theme: figurines of ballet dancers graced her desktop, photos of her family in bright, flowery frames stood on shelves, colourful dolls sat against skirting boards, and posters of golden meadows and vibrant countryside adorned the walls. She twiddled her golden hair between her fingers. Why was love so difficult? It was a simple and straightforward concept, so why must she be given a higher purpose? In truth, she had never minded that purpose. It made her feel special and chosen - she just liked to curse it to get it noticed by people. She’d never been stretched this far though. She’d never been abused. And that wasn’t the worst of it. During the incident she’d been drawn into his psyche. She’d departed from herself and become like him, speaking words that were foreign to her. Obscene words. Swept away by the surrealism, she had lost control. Two opposing ideals clashing, it was overwhelming, intense, and she’d succumbed.

Would it be that way with their characters too? Would she become bitter and twisted like him? She took a breath and smiled - she was
too
imaginative. She was genuine and he was false. It would be easier to draw out the real Col than the false Stacey. During the past thirty years, she’d developed herself into a good person, whereas he had spent the time hiding from himself and becoming immune to pain. It would take time and patience, but she could find him. There had been a setback, but it was still her fate to guide him. It was her most challenging mission: to make him human. Chinks in the armour were already apparent - she’d seen evidence of humanity. She had a new angle to work from now; his childhood.

She hadn’t told Fay about the incident. Her promiscuous friend had instantly interrogated her about sex, but Stacey had prepared herself and told Fay that they’d only kissed. It came as no surprise that Fay had slept with Dave, though hearing her heartless account of Dave’s inadequacy shocked her. Stacey hadn’t expected to hear that Dave was impotent, nor was she aware that Fay could be so bitter and inconsiderate. It hadn’t even occurred to Fay that Dave might feel devastated!

Fay was very headstrong and spontaneous. She found it hard to see the warmth in people. Sometimes Stacey felt envious of that, as it meant that Fay never got hurt – or at least
pretended
she wasn’t hurt. Stacey, on the other hand, saw the good in people and suffered as she nurtured that good.
This was God-given
, she reminded herself.

If she’d told Fay what had happened, Fay would have erupted and demanded that she forget about Col. Her faults aside, Fay was a caring friend. She wouldn’t tolerate Stacey being abused or hurt. She wouldn’t believe that Col was anything but shit. And she wouldn’t understand Stacey’s act of forgiveness, or make sense of Stacey’s reasons for persevering with him.

Col had a need inside, far beyond his conscious state. Stacey couldn’t work out why he used different names - apparently Ryan was his real name - but she would uncover the reason in time. His hard exterior was a reaction to the past, but portrayed him badly.