Releasing 10 (Boys of Tommen, #6)

by Chloe Walsh

“I don’t think I like you, Lizzie Young.” He looked out the window when he whispered, “I know I do.”

“Because I trust you,” I told him. “You make me feel safe.” That seemed to confuse him because his brows furrowed together. “You’ll always be safe with me.” “I know.” I splashed him with my hand. “No matter what, right?” “Yeah, Liz,” Hugh chuckled, splashing me back. “No matter what.”

Mark didn’t fix me this time. Hugh did. And he didn’t have to hurt me to do it…

My weapon of choice became the blade, and my flesh became the battlefield, where I waged an internal war on the parts of me that couldn’t be healed. The battle began on the inner side of my fleshy thighs, until there wasn’t any room left to fight, and by that stage, the battlefield transferred to my stomach, and then to my breasts, until settling on my wrists. The temporary relief from mental torture led me to playing with knives while other girls my age played with dolls. I was clever to conceal, to cut just deep enough to find relief but not bring attention to myself. After all, it was attention that had started the war in my head.

Oh Lizzie...

IT HAPPENED AGAIN LAST NIGHT. The monster attacked me in my sleep again, hurting me so severely that I brought my injuries back to reality with me. It hurt to sit on my chair in class, and by the time big lunch rolled around, I was close to losing my mind. Every part of my body ached, but it was my mind that was truly shaken up. Because it was getting harder and harder to tell the difference between what was real and what was my imagination.

The moment it happened, the lads on the pitch erupted with laughter, while Gibs climbed to his feet, holding his face with his hand. When he pulled his hand back and saw the blood on his fingers, he was out like a light and faceplanting into the ground. “Gerard!” Claire cried out, dropping to her knees to comfort our friend. It wasn’t the first time either one of us had witnessed Gibs faint from the sight of his own blood.

If you know, then you know....

“Well, I am sure, Liz,” I told her, feeling my heart shattering into a thousand pieces. “I’m sure that you’re good and kind and the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.” Swallowing down my emotions, I smoothed a hand over her hair and leaned in close to whisper, “You are all of the good things in the world and none of the bad. You won’t feel this way forever. Okay? You’re going to feel better again.”

Hugh Biggs, the man you are...

Without saying a word, Hugh reached for my hand and raised it to his lips. Keeping his eyes on me, he turned it over and pressed a kiss to the scars covering my wrist. My breath caught in my throat, and I thought my heart might burst. Shivering violently, I watched him kiss my shame away. Because those scars on my wrists depicted the ugliest parts of my mind. But Hugh kissed each one like they were beautiful. Like I was beautiful. Like I was still me.

IGNORING THE LADY STANDING AT MY SISTER’S GRAVESIDE, PLAYING FLEETWOOD Mac’s “Landslide” on her guitar, I strained to hear the sound of scratching, so I could tell the men to stop lowering her coffin into the hole and bring her back up instead. So I could tell the priest that my sister was in a deep sleep, one that had lasted seven days, but she was awake now, and they needed to let her out of the box. Come on, Caoimhe, we’re running out of time. Hurry up and scream, cry, shout… Anything! Numb to the bone, I watched as someone produced a chair for my mother to sit on, while my father dropped to his knees at her graveside, crying and begging a God that couldn’t hear us to bring his daughter back to him. Meanwhile, I stood alone and watched the men in black suits lower my sister’s coffin into the ground. Caoimhe was in there. Inside that wooden box.

I am unwell

Someone reached for my hands and gently peeled them apart before entwining their fingers with mine. I didn’t need to look to know whose hand was holding mine. I could feel his presence: strong, dependable, and safe. He was the only thing I could feel nowadays. Tightening my hold on Hugh’s hand, I looked on wordlessly as my sister’s burial slowly came to a close. She was in the ground now. The were throwing fistfuls of dirt on top of her, cementing that she wasn’t coming back. This was no mistake. Caoimhe was gone. Forever.

The priest told my parents that God had taken my sister’s soul to heaven, but he forgot to mention that Caoimhe had taken my soul with her. I knew she had. There was a piece of me in the ground with her. I could feel it. A hollow, gaping ridge in my chest where she used to be. Where I used to feel.

AS THE DAYS TURNED INTO WEEKS, MY SISTER’S MEMORY BEGAN TO SLOWLY DWINDLE. The steady flow of trays of baked goods and home-cooked casseroles that had been delivered daily by our neighbors had come to a stop. As had the arrival of well-wishers at the front door. Today was her one-month anniversary and nobody had bothered to turn up to the house. In a way, I was relieved because I didn’t think I could shake another stranger’s hand without losing what was left of my sanity—and I really didn’t have much to spare at this point in time. The only consistent figure that continued to visit was the boy whose hand was holding mine.

When Hugh kissed me, it wasn’t like anything I’d experienced before or since. He was loving me with his mouth. Expressing his feelings with every flick of his tongue. It was deep. It was all-consuming. Like I was the sole recipient of his time, focus, heart, and affection.

I’d heard these fights a hundred times before, but the holidays always brought out the worst in my parents. Because it brought out the pain. Sitting around the table for Christmas dinner with my sister’s empty chair was a stark reminder of how we would never be a family again.

WHEN LIZ STORMED INTO MY BEDROOM THE FOLLOWING EVENING, SHE MOVED straight for my stereo, CD case in hand. Visibly thrumming with anger, she retrieved the disc from the case before flinging it at me. “Jesus Christ,” Gibs exclaimed, diving out of her way and dropping the ball he’d been balancing in the process. “Liz.” Equally just as pissed, I caught the case midair and quickly recognized it as Fleetwood Mac’s album The Dance. “What are you doing in here?” Without speaking a single word, she placed the disc in my stereo and began to flick through tracks before stopping at number twelve. Then, she held her finger on the fast-forward button, skipping through parts of the song, until releasing it at 3:38. The moment Stevie Nicks’s haunting voice filled the room, my ex-girlfriend turned the volume up to maximum capacity before spinning around to look at me. Again, she never uttered a single word, letting the song do the talking for her. Instead, she tortured me by standing directly in front of me, chest heaving in such a way that it brushed against mine. Jutting her chin up in defiance, she locked her eyes on mine and snared me, keeping me captive, as the music ricocheted through the both of us. She didn’t seem to care that we were in full view of my friends, and I couldn’t look away from her. Her eyes were blazing with raw emotion—some of it fury, most of it pain. The intensity of her stare was too fucking much in this moment, bringing with it an onslaught of heartbreak that I...

Sleep didn’t come easily that night, but when I finally drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning, I was woken what felt like minutes later by the sound of loud clattering near my head and the sensation of something light and plastic landing on top of the duvet. Blinking awake, I sprung up in confusion just in time to see Hugh slam his huge stereo system, speakers and all, down on his sister’s nightstand. The one on the side of his sister’s bed that I was sleeping on. Once he had the stereo plugged into the electrical outlet behind his sister’s nightstand and powered up, Hugh stood back up and quickly set to work on flicking through tracks before settling on number fifteen. I knew what he was doing the second the historic drum pattern and guitar riff sounded in my ears. He’s responding. Heart hammering violently, I snatched up the CD case that was thrown on top of me and just stared at him, while Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” drifted through the speakers. He kept his eyes on me when he reached for the volume button and turned it up to its maximum level. Oh yeah, he was making sure I heard him. “Omigod, what the hell is happening?” Claire groaned, dragging a pillow over her head while burrowing herself deeper under the covers. “Turn it off, Liz.” There was a better chance of hell freezing over. Both captivated and ensnared by her brother’s eyes, I watched him watch me, unable to move a muscle. The weight of my regret was pinning me to the mattress, while th...

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, fisting my shirt. “I want to die for what I’ve done to you.” Somehow, I managed to smile. “Just get better, okay?” “You’ll be there when I come home?” Pain. It scorched me. “Of course.” A few minutes later, when they were gone and I was left alone with Catherine, I heard her say, “You lied to her, didn’t you?” Tears filled her eyes. “You won’t be there when she comes home.” Shaking my head, I roughly wiped my tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Claire told me you started seeing someone,” she whispered, reaching over the table with her free hand to stroke my hair. “I want you to know it’s okay.” I broke down. I couldn’t help it. Right there in the middle of school, I cried my fucking heart out. “It’s okay,” Liz continued to soothe, while I fought to pull myself together. “I want you to be happy.” My ears were ringing. My heart was gunning in my chest. My heart was insisting I had taken a wrong turn in life and demanding that I turn back. “It’s new,” I finally managed to say when I steadied myself. “I, ah…” Roughly clearing my throat, I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and forced myself to look at her. “Her name is Katie.” When her blue eyes met mine, I felt the pull. The undeniable bond that linked my soul to hers. The one that no amount of time or distance seemed to sever. “Is she good to you?” Sniffling, I nodded. “Yeah, she’s really good to me.” The sadness in her eyes was killing me, and I had to fight every instinct inside of me to not pull her into my arms. Because it felt like I had been programmed to protect this girl. The only problem was, I needed protection from her. Because no one could hurt me like Liz could. “I’m happy for you.” She tried to smile but choked out a pained sob. “I swear I am,” she hurried to say, as she pulled her hand from mine. “It’s just h-hard.” I understood. I knew exactly how she felt.

“I’ll always love you, Hugh Biggs,” Liz said when she rounded the table and stopped in front of me. Inhaling a quivering breath, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek before whispering, “No matter what.” And then she was gone.