Brave: How I rebuilt my life after love turned to hate. Adele Bellis
Читать онлайн книгу.
Anthony in the morning and my brother Scott would text or call him.
‘Why don’t you tell him you’re with his sister?’ I’d whisper, and he’d shake his head.
‘No way,’ he said. ‘It’s not like it’s anything serious. Why should anyone know?’
And I’d try to swallow down the disappointment that collected in my throat each time he said something like that. Instead I’d laugh and say ‘I know’ or anything else that might convince him that I wasn’t taking it seriously either.
But then once a week became twice a week, and twice a week became Anthony texting and asking if we could see each other alone. Sometimes it wasn’t even about the sex, we’d just cuddle up with a DVD. It was more like a relationship, and yet at the same time Anthony was always keen to let me know he was sleeping with other girls.
‘I got in such a mess at the weekend, I woke up next to this ginger girl on Sunday morning,’ he told me once, and I tried to laugh it off, or hit him playfully, or act like it didn’t matter, but deep down, it did. Deep down maybe I wondered why I wasn’t enough for him to stop seeing other girls, and it didn’t matter how much fun we had together, he always left me wanting more, because come the weekend, when he was out clubbing and I knew I’d never get in at 16, I had no idea what he was doing. And then again, he wasn’t shy to tell me who he’d got off with, or who he’d woken up with. But even if I didn’t know it then, it was eating away at me.
Yet, at the same time, he was getting closer to me. He started staying at his dad’s more, which was on my side of town so it was easier to see each other. I’d go in the house and straight upstairs, never saying hello to his dad or his stepmum, who was eight months pregnant at the time. We’d watch DVDs up in his room and when we were hungry he’d leave me there and go and get us a KFC. But we still were only friends with benefits.
We’d been like this for a couple of months when I started going to the same clubs as him. I’d be there with the girls, he’d be there with the lads – sometimes my brother among them – but we’d never speak. All of my friends knew what was going on, of course, but none of his did. Instead I’d watch from across the bar as he chatted to other girls in front of me.
‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ my friends asked.
‘But I’m the one who’s going home with him,’ I said.
Because when he was ready to leave I’d feel my phone buzz in my pocket and it would be a message from him.
I’m going, you coming?
I’d look up and he’d be watching me, and I’d nod and meet him out the front of the club. There was a bit of a buzz about our secrecy, something about it that made my tummy flip in excitement when my brother watched me leave the club without any idea that I was going home with his friend. But there was also something else swelling inside my belly, a dark feeling that felt like jealousy, and I was trying very hard to keep it inside and not let it come spilling out.
As much as I enjoyed the thrill of Anthony being mine and no one knowing, I was starting to wonder why he refused to tell anyone. Was he ashamed of me? Why was I his dirty little secret when he was texting me all the time, asking to see me and staying at his dad’s just so we could see each other more? What was it about me that wasn’t good enough for him to want to make me his girfriend? Although I tried to be casual, to go along with the rules that he’d set for our relationship, it was starting to bite deep inside. I wanted Anthony and I wanted him to want me.
And then on Christmas Eve it finally came to a head. We were out in a club, and as usual I watched from the other side of the dance floor as he danced with other girls in front of me, and then – right there, while I was watching – he started kissing one. My friends looked at me, and there was nothing I could do to keep my feelings from spilling out. Perhaps it was the vodka sloshing around in my belly, or maybe I’d just had enough. But when we bumped into each other in the club’s toilets, I went mad. I was pushing him and kicking him, and although all he had to do was keep me at arm’s length and I couldn’t even feel my body impact with his, he must have seen how upset I was.
‘How could you do this to me?’ I shouted at him, losing every ounce of cool I’d worked so hard to maintain.
And then I left. Angry, humiliated, mascara running down my cheeks. The clock had already struck midnight, but it was anything but a Happy Christmas.
We didn’t see each other on Christmas Day, and he hadn’t bought me a present either. We texted throughout the day, and I think I realised then just how much I really liked him. But I felt like a fool too because, while I’d silently been falling for him, he’d been taking the mickey out of me by sleeping with other girls behind my back, and then, of course, flaunting it in front of my face. It was impossible to not feel completely hurt, and totally humiliated.
On Boxing Day Mum and Dad went out for the night, and Amie came round. It was Christmas and we were bored, I wanted to drown my sorrows and there was a bottle of Jägermeister in the fridge. Somehow between the first shot and the sixth we’d started messaging Scott’s friends on MSN, and before we knew it, high on Jägermeister, we’d invited two of them over.
One of them was Bruce, who was dark, handsome and really fit, the one that all my friends fancied, and when he showed me attention that day, perhaps it was just what I needed. So when he tried to kiss me I pushed all thoughts of Anthony from my mind. I let myself fall into him, telling myself that this after all is what Anthony does, that he’s not thinking of me when he’s with other women, that perhaps I should try and behave like he does, that I should sleep with another guy. After all, like Anthony told me a dozen times, it was only a bit of fun.
And so I did, buoyed up by alcohol and immediately afterwards came down with a heavy shot of regret.
‘Let’s go out,’ the boys said.
And because it was Christmas, and because I was drunk and because I didn’t care any more, I decided to do just that, and guess who we bumped into – Anthony.
Not that he spoke to me. He did his usual thing of pretending I wasn’t there, which mixed and curdled with the Jägermeister in my stomach and made me feel worthless. So maybe when he texted me asking if I was ready to go, I wanted him to feel just a little of what I did. We started arguing on the way home, I can’t even remember what about, something and nothing, and so when we got back to his and we were still arguing, that’s when I decided to say it, to tell him, just like he’d told me.
‘We don’t have to have sex anyway,’ I said. ‘Because I’ve already had some tonight.’
His face darkened, right there in front of me a shadow passed across his eyes, an unmistakable look of anger furrowed his brow. He was speechless. Gone was the petty irritation of whatever it was that we were arguing about, and in its place was a blackness I’d never seen in him before.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said. ‘You do it openly, you tell me.’
I sat down on the bed and stared at him.
‘You’re treating me like a dickhead,’ I said. ‘You’ve done the same and now I’ve done it, you’re going to kick –’
But I didn’t get chance to finish my sentence because he grabbed me by my hand and pulled me from the bed.
When he finally spoke it wasn’t in his usual tone, it was in a hard, cold voice that I hadn’t heard before, and made my insides turn icy cold. And those green eyes, they weren’t twinkling any more. They were hard; they were frightening.
‘I’ve got feelings for you and you’ve ruined it all,’ he spat.
It was the first time he’d ever acknowledged he felt anything for me, and any other time I would have felt so happy, but he was dragging me from his room, pushing me down the stairs, trying to get me out of his house.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I shouted. ‘I’m going home!’
I opened the front door and felt a blast