Releasing 10 (Boys of Tommen, #6)

by Chloe Walsh

“There you are.” Smiling warmly, she brushed my hair off my face. “You are perfect, do you hear me?” I nodded.

I didn’t like it when I made her mad. It made me feel bad. It made my face grow hot. It made my nails get scratchy.

“You are not allowed to do that.” Crouching down in front of me, she took my hands in hers and looked in my eyes. “You are not allowed to hurt yourself.”

“You’re as sharp as a razor in there, aren’t you?”

Breaking down in front of him, my sister covered her face with her hands and screamed, “I wish I was dead!”

“I don’t want to be me anymore.” “Why would you say that?” “Because I’m bad.”

“Then why do they hate me?” I sobbed, turning my face away. “Why does everyone look at me funny?”

I had to make my family love me. If I didn’t, they were going to send me away.

Oh no. The voice was back. The scary voice. The one that made me wet the bed. The one that made me fight. Clamping my hands over my ears, I hummed loudly to drown it out. I had to make the voice go away.

“And what’s yours?” “‘Silver Springs.’”

“Yep,” she replied. “Because when you go to heaven, all of your pain goes away.” I smiled to myself. That was a nice thought.

“Hey, munchkin.” He called me munchkin. I liked it.

“Would you like that, munchkin?” Mark asked, hand on my shoulder. “Would you like me to fix you?” Nodding, I smiled back at him. Yes, please.

Instead, I felt warm. My thoughts were nice and slow. It always happened when I sat next to Shannon Lynch. It made me want to sit with her forever.

Claire was loud and funny, and she made me feel happy. Shannon was quiet and calm and made me feel safe.

“Omigod!” Gripping her head, the girl started to scream like a banshee. “My head, my head!” Shocked, I turned to see Joey Lynch coming down the steps that led from the pitch to the school gates with a hurley slung over his shoulder. Shannon’s big brother was only in second class, but the older boys still moved out of his way. Because they were afraid of him. Because he got into a lot of fights at school. Even more than me.

Gibs was always looking at her, and on the rare occasion he wasn’t, Claire was looking at him. Our mothers called it harmless puppy love, but I wasn’t so sure about that. I had a niggling feeling they would always look at each other like that.

Golden skin. Yellow hair. Kind smile. Eyes like Daddy’s whiskey. Soap and strawberries. Hugh Biggs.

I want Lizzie.” Nobody had ever said that about me before. But Claire did. She said she wanted me. My heart thumped with excitement.

“A star is better than a square.” I scrunched my brows up. “A square?” “Yeah, we’re a square, see?” Gibsie pointed to the four of them before pointing to me. “You make a star.”

Shivering, I clenched my eyes shut and thought happy thoughts. I thought of Hugh.

“You’re a good boy, Hugh, and I know you’re so emotionally mature that I don’t need to ask, but please keep an eye out for her.” Mam stroked my cheek and smiled sadly. “She’s a very fragile little girl who needs looking after.” “I’ll do it,” I vowed, casting a glance out the patio window to the blond girl twirling around in circles in her denim dungarees. “I’ll look after her, Mam, I promise.”

I didn’t feel the same fear others felt when their heads went underwater or when water went up their nose. The more pain I felt, the calmer my mind grew.

“Yeah, Liz,” Hugh chuckled, splashing me back. “No matter what.”

Climbing onto the mattress, I rolled onto my back and settled into the familiar position, arms at my sides and legs open, waiting for this boy to do what Mark told me all boys did. Except he didn’t. Instead of taking off my clothes, Hugh covered me with a blanket and stepped away.

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

“No matter what.” “Yeah, Liz.” His lips grew into a small smile. “No matter what.”

knew she was trying to explain what was happening to my body, but I didn’t care. Because I didn’t like having a body.

“I’m staying with you.” “No matter what?” “Yeah, Liz.” Stroking her cheek, I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “No matter what.”

I trusted him to never let go of my hand. No matter what.

I shook my head, unable to release my hold on her son. Because her son was my sun. “I just want Hugh,” I strangled out, voice shaking almost as much as my body. “Just…just Hugh, okay?”

“Good. You go right ahead and keep on not dreaming about it,” Gibsie replied in a warning tone. “Because I’m not as in control of my actions as he is.” He pointed to me while keeping his eyes trained on Feely. “And I’ll kill ya dead, Patrick Desmond Feely.” Gibs made a throat slashing sign with his finger. “Don’t let this angel face fool you,” he continued, pointing to himself. “There’s a killer lurking beneath. One that’ll kill ya stone dead if you try to take my Claire-Bear, ya hear?”

The next time I hurt myself it was an almost accident with a bowl of piping hot porridge. I remembered it like it was yesterday. Sitting on the couch with the steaming hot bowl on my lap. Staring into the bowl, I slowly tipped it sideways to taste the lick of burn on my legs. Watching the thick, burning gruel seep through my tights, searing my flesh like a thousand needles.

The pain was instant, and it was glorious.

Before then, I used to scratch and tear at my skin or burn myself in the bath when the pressure in my head got too much, but nothing I’d ever tried before compared to the peace I found from the sharp edge of a blade.

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.

After all, it was attention that had started the war in my head. I didn’t feel bad about it, either. I was doing this for me. I was trying to survive and had finally found a way to make it through the days without wanting to die.

“Who’s a parasitic intruder, Thor?” Liz asked, butting his hip with hers to scoot over. “Who do I need to hurt?” “You would, wouldn’t ya?” Gibs chuckled, shoving over to let her slide onto the seat next to him. “Little viper.”

Sitting cross-legged on the grass, I slumped against the wall behind me and tried to breathe through the pain. I wasn’t sure which was worse: the pain in my mind or the one between my legs.

Crying harder now, I balled my hands into fists and hit myself in the head repeatedly, hoping and praying I could somehow erase the bad thoughts. I’m bad. I’m bad. I’m bad.

“So.” Joey took a deep drag of the cigarette and then seemed to hold the smoke in his lungs for an extra-long beat before slowly exhaling. “Feel like naming the culprit yet?” “The culprit of what?” “Your tears.”

Now he did smile. “I figured.” “What’s so funny?” “You,” he replied. “You remind me of someone I used to know.” “Who?” “My younger self,”

“I’ll be seeing ya, kid.”

“No matter what?” “Yeah, Liz,” I confirmed, not truly comprehending the vow I had taken upon my young shoulders. “No matter what.”

“I’m staying, okay?” I kissed her hand again. “No matter what.” “I need you.”

Nothing in this world could trick me into releasing this boy. Not my thoughts. Not my mind. Not my broken pieces. Nothing.

In fact, a small part of me wondered if the kiss in the fairy cave really happened or if it was just another figment of my disastrous imagination.

brown on blue,

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.

“Of what? Your imaginary ship?” Lizzie chimed in with a snicker. “I can see it now: Captain Fantastic and his flock of fanboys.”