CHAPTER 95: The Virgin’s Summer, Part 35
I can hardly speak the words. “I killed a man.”
My Master stands abruptly, rising upright from his chair, which scrapes backwards, abrasively.
Richard remains unmoved, simply glancing up at my Master. “Go on.”
Breathe...
“I was fourteen. It was at the home. There was a man… As the girls got older, and sometimes the boys... they would take them away...”
My throat seizes up. Unspeaking, Richard pours a tumbler of water, pushing it across the table to me. I gulp it down, straining for air.
“He took me out, tried to get me into his car. He was telling me that I was being taken to a party where... He was enjoying telling me what they were going to do to me. He had a knife, holding it at my throat to get me into the car. He said that when we got to the party, they were going to pass me around, and if I didn’t do as I was told, he was going to… to fuck me with the knife, and enjoy doing it...”
I am panting hard, struggling with my words, as the nightmare replays in my head.
“... But I struggled and got the knife from him. I stabbed him, and I ran. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I just ran and kept running. When they caught me again, a few days later, they said he was dead.”
Richard’s face is expressionless. “And after that?”
“They kept me by myself for a while; not in the dorm with the other girls. I’m not sure how long it was. It was dark all the time…”
“They put you in solitary confinement, in the dark?”
I nod, gulping, but my words are unstoppable now. Locked away for so many years, they tumble out. “Yes. There were cellars in the home. They used them as punishment rooms for us. Later, they said I was being sent away, to somewhere else. They didn’t say where, but it was the farm, where my foster family are now.”
“And you were treated well there?”
“Yes, they’re good people. I was safe. And there were animals: dogs, horses, chickens. I could do what I wanted: ride the horses, walk. And the school was great. I didn’t get on well with the family though. I think they found me a bit much to handle. I was pretty wild by then... “
My Master interrupts. “Charlotte, you told me you had been married...” Richard looks at him with a startled glance. “... an unconsummated marriage… was that true?”
“Yes, it was all true. I’ve never lied to you about anything. There were just things that... I couldn’t...”
I trail away... my supply of words exhausted.
Richard looks at me under lidded eyes. “And in all that time, no-one queried you about the death of this man?”
I almost whisper. “No. And I never dared ask.”
“What was his name?”
“We just knew him as Supervisor Jenkins.”
“And this all happened, when?”
I count backwards. “Er… about nine years ago.”
“And you’ve told no-one about this since then?”
I shake my head.
My Master is staring at me. “Charlotte, why not? Didn’t you feel you could tell me? Didn’t you trust me enough? Or Michael?”
“Oh, I do trust you. I do. Both of you.… but... but.… I tried, but the words wouldn’t come out. And it was sort of locked away in my head. I never thought about it if I could. Not until I saw that model of the City, and what was happening in my old neighbourhood… then it all started coming back...”
I stand up, gathering my nerves, still trying to control my breathing. Head held high, my chest heaving, I lock eyes with Haswell. “So, what happens now? Have I made myself too much of a nuisance at last? You want me to get my stuff and go?”
He regards me, over steepled fingers.
“No. I want you to call Michael and go with him. I need to talk with James here, make some phone calls.”
He addresses my Master. “You’ve been staying at the beach house?”
“Yes.”
“Get Michael to take her back there. I want to be able to say that I know where she is.”
My Master nods, silently, then calls Michael, talking to him urgently but quietly. Strain as I might, I cannot pick out their words.
Waiting for Michael to arrive, I sit sipping water. Haswell says nothing, simply tapping at his keyboard, reading his screen, occasionally glancing over at me.
My Master paces up and down, not speaking.
I speak quietly, trying to speak only to him. “Master, I’m sorry. I tried to tell you when you asked me at the site, but... I couldn’t ... I just couldn’t...”
Haswell clearly does hear me, but aside from a quick glance my way, says nothing, I think trying to give us a privacy we cannot have.
My Master’s face twists between compassion, anger, and frustration. “You picked a hell of a way to break your silence, Charlotte.”
I stare at the floor, sipping my water, waiting…
There is a knock, and the door bursts open. It is Michael. He strides straight up to me, scoops me up under the arms, and lifts me into his embrace, rocking me back and forth, face pressed to mine.
Michael’s sympathy is finally too much for me, and I burst into tears.
“Get her out of here.” says my Master. “Take her to the beach house. I’ll be in touch later.”
Michael nods acknowledgement and, taking my hand, leads me to the door.
As we are about to exit the office, my Master says, “Charlotte, don’t run.”
I bite back a sob. “I won’t. Whatever happens now, I just want it to happen. I want my life back.”
Driving, Michael doesn’t say much, simply glancing at me occasionally, stroking my leg when he has a free hand.
Back at the house, I sit, staring out to sea. Michael puts food in front of me. I don’t eat it, my stomach roiling.
That night, my sleep is haunted, broken by nightmares.
Run...
Run... Where?
Anywhere... Just run...
Look back... Is he there...? Run.…
Faces. The crowd. The tumult of the City. Thousands of faces, all around me... all strangers...
Run...
Dodge the traffic. Car horns blaring. Taxi drivers, screaming abuse at me…
Keep running...
The knife!
Oh God! I’ve still got the knife…
My hand… Blood... The blade, bright, sharp…
Dripping…
Run...
“Charlotte... Charlotte!”
I wake, panting, sweating. There is a face over me in the dark, shaking me at the shoulders, and I cringe back.
It is Michael, jolting me out of my dreams. I see the hurt, the bewilderment, in his eyes, as I shrink from him.
Then, wrapping his arms around me, he rocks me back to sleep.