Page 116 of Tears of Gold

I chuckle, but this time it’s lighter, free. “I shall very much look forward to not having that headache.”

We end the call and I start to make my way back to Chesham Place. I need to pack my bag. I can’t stay there. Not right now, not until I make this right with myself, and that’s even if I can.

Miss Beesley cried, but I promised I’d stay in touch. It seems ironic to be walking back to the flat I bought with money from ink, when I think my ink might have been my problem all along. I keep thinking back to what Francine said. “Wouldn’t you take it off at the end of the day?”

I chose my ink to cover my fears. I know that now. Every time something or someone hurt me, I covered it up. Even when I hurt myself.

I let myself in, surprised to find the place in darkness. Tabs has left a note on the kitchen work surface.

I’m sorry about you and Elijah. You will always be my sister. You’re the warrior I look up to. Tabitha.

I’m no warrior but I appreciate her sentiment. I grab my phone and shoot her a quick message telling her where I am and that I’m okay.

There’s flashing voicemail but I ignore it. I need to focus on what I came home for; finding out exactly who I am.

I start with the first bit of ink. My lightning bolt. Al had refused at first. I’d only been seventeen, but that idiot Drew had burned me with the way he’d used me and thrown me aside. Too late of course I’d realised he was a friend of Aiden’s and it was all a game.

So I’d had the lightning bolt to stop myself from ever trusting someone more than once. To never have sex with someone more than once.

I kept that rule until I met Elijah.

Why?

Who was I protecting? Me?

Was I protecting myself from being hurt? Or was I protecting myself from admitting I didn’t understand how love and affection was supposed to work? Was Francine right? Was I so starved, so confused, that I was left at the mercy of others? Left to be blinded by touch and then think it was my fault because I was so desperate to feel—to feel anything.

I run my finger along the lightning bolt. It had hurt, more than I’d been willing to admit to Al, but it hadn’t hurt as much as the turmoil on the inside. Not as much as the nagging self-doubt that I was dirty and perverted. I’d let Drew sleep with me. I’d laid back and let it happen. He didn’t take advantage, but I’d willingly submitted.

My mind spins to another night only months before. Elijah and I in his hallway at the Mews. His hand around my throat as he became mad with the passion between us. Later he’d cried, thinking he’d hurt me.

He hadn’t. I had nothing to hurt. I’d submitted. Again.

Slowly I work my way through every single drop of ink on my skin. It takes forever but it’s okay. I don’t have anywhere else to be.

Through every mark and score I find only a pattern of loneliness and detachment. There are no memories here to be smiled at. When I’m naked and standing in front of the mirror, I look at the heart between my ribcage. The only ink I care about. Ink borne of hope. It’s larger than the lightning bolt, larger than the roses that first drew Eli and I together.

When I’m done and still no closer to understanding who I am, or why I am, I climb into my bed. I could tell myself I never expected to be back here. But didn’t I? With my hand on my tummy, I shut my eyes. Beneath my closed lids is a glimmer of hope.

Twenty-Seven

I stretch when I wake. I slept deeply which I wasn’t expecting, dreaming of Elijah and children with blue eyes. I grab my phone and check the time. I need to contact Reggie today and find out what it is happening with the case. If it’s been dropped then I need to find a way to deal with it, find some closure and move on.

I don’t know if that’s even possible, but I’ll need to face it. No more hiding.

My phone still has the voicemail I ignored last night—a London number. I tap the small arrow and listen.

Then I listen again. And then again.

Then I FaceTime Abi.

“Hey, you,” she answers. There are crashing noises and all sorts in the background.

“What’s going on?”

“School run.” She groans and blows her hair away from her face, I laugh. “Don’t be laughing, woman, in a few years you will know all about this pain.

I hadn’t thought about that. I wait for some flash of panic to strike but it doesn’t. Maybe I am making progress after all.