Dead Boy Walking

12 - D E A L

My anxiety was through the roof. I couldn't speak, stay still or even breathe. My stomach churned with the unmistakable feeling of guilt as it gnawed at me from the inside out.

The air was colder outside, the gulls louder, the stares scorching.

We managed to get to the station easy enough, buying a ticket from the machine and slipping onto the train without fuss. Only when we sat at our seats, in the nearly empty carriage, did it catch up with me. We got the quiet table seats to ourselves and I crossed my arms over the wooden table before burying my head on top.

I closed my eyes while breathing in and out to calm the nerves that threatened to take over my body. It was so surreal. That was two different people in less than an hour or so that we'd collectively attacked. If I got caught then I'd have no excuse but to go to jail.

I was snapped from my thoughts when Kingsley placed a cold hand to my back. He soothingly rubbed circles but it only made goosebumps rise above my skin.

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Quinny," he murmured. "It'll all be okay in the morning. Everything will feel clearer then."

His words tore an ache through my chest. I didn't believe him, of course, but the gesture was nice. With my forehead resting against the cool wood of the table, I listened carefully as the train sped along the tracks. Leaving the towering buildings and passing the trees and fields outside, I couldn't wait to get home and go to bed.

I moved my head to the side to watch Kingsley who continued to rub circles on my back. It didn't help but I let him do it anyway. When he caught my eyes staring, he copied my action so that we were both facing one another, heads on our arms and eyes trained carefully on the other.

"Don't worry about today, okay? It wasn't your fault, it wasn't anyone's fault," he confirmed.

I smiled, touched by his efforts to cheer me up.

"Thanks, Kingsley," I answered barely above a whisper and our conversation felt intimate.

"Did your mum actually just leave without any reason?" He asked, choosing his words carefully. Though it stung, I appreciated the carefulness he surrounded the topic with. Mum was still a wound I had yet to heal.

"Yeah...I think that maybe she got sick of it all, you know?"

But he didn't know. So he stayed quiet for me to continue.

"She was a party girl, never seen in the same place twice. Then, even though my dad will swear down is wrong, I think she accidentally got pregnant. She didn't get rid of me, surprisingly. Probably because her parents were so excited. My prediction is that she was waiting for me to be born before dumping me onto Dad and doing a runner. But then, after she saw me for the first time, an idea formed. It would be her best one yet. She could experiment at being a mum for a bit and form me into her little toy. Then, if she didn't like it, she could just leave. Which she did."