Chapter Eighty-Five

Havermouth, Five Years Before

As Aislen threaded her way between students to the grassy hill, which was being occupied by jocks, cheerleaders, and the Triquetra, she saw the other sex toy standing forlornly at the foot of the hill, looking up at Heath, who held his hands out, palms upward. As if sensing Aislen’s approach, he looked her way, and the other sex toy followed his gaze and burst into tears, before hurrying away.

“You’re late,” Heath said, as Aislen reached him. “And your make up is a mess,” he took a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe under her eyes. "Rhett said that he saw you with Ms. Grace.”

“She wanted to talk to me about the body and the vigil,” Aislen told him under her breath.

“We will go,” he said, and sat down next to Rhett.

“Come here,” Cameron patted the grass next to him. “Have some cookies,” he offered a Tupperware container as she sat next to him. When she hesitated, he laughed. “Don’t worry,” he leaned towards her, keeping his voice low. “There are no special ingredients.”

She took one and nibbled at the edges, not really hungry. She was still raw and emotional from her conversation with Ms. Grace, and her mind was on the other sex toy. She wanted to go after the other girl and tell her that she wasn’t alone… But she didn’t.

“Are you okay?” Cameron murmured, putting his arm around her shoulders. He was concerned by her behaviour, by Rhett’s description of how she had been weeping as Ms. Grace led her into the office. (She’s not been herself since…) His mind flooded with the images of her kneeling on the bedroom floor at the river house, her arse reddening under the belt, and his thoughts were uneasy and regretful.

“Yes,” she said the word that they had given her permission to speak.

The end of recess bell went and Aislen threw the uneaten cookie in the bin as she followed Heath to the math class. She sat beside him as the lesson started, letting her hair fall over her face, her tears smearing the neat lines of sums on the graph paper.

At the end of the class, Heath took her hand. “Come on,” he said, under his breath, and towed her through the halls in the direction of the car park. He opened the car door for her, taking their bags and placing them into the boot on the way to the driver’s side. He reversed the car out as the bell went for the next period.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel and a muscle worked in the corner of his jaw as he drove away from the school. She recognized the roads, and wasn’t surprised when he parked at the graveyard. He walked around the car and opened her door. “Come on,” he said.

Her chest was painfully tight as she got out. “I didn’t do anything,” she pleaded.

“I didn’t say that you did,” he stroked his hand through her hair, cupping the back of her skull, and his eyes were soft. “Let’s go for a walk.”

They strolled, hand-in-hand, between the gravestones, around the gazebo, and she scrutinized every thought that slipped through the connection, trying to understand what he was thinking, but nothing made sense to her. He paused by a rose bush and released her hand, breaking off a rose and using his thumb nail to trim the thorns before handing it to her, his other hand in her hair.

She looked up at him, uncertainly, as she accepted the flower.

“It’s just a flower,” he said, his voice gruff. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Are you applying to the local university, Aislen?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to study and I doubt I have the grades.”

“Your grades are okay. If you do well in the exams at the end of the month, you can make up the difference. Rhett says that you’re very good at art. He’s very certain that he wants to go into tattoos and piercings… Would something like that work for you?”

“Oh, no,” she shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to… draw onto skin. What if I made a mistake? That’s just… It’s not me,” she explained.

“Perhaps you could draw designs and run the office?” He suggested.

“Perhaps,” she was dubious.

“There’s lots of businesses that would appreciate an artist,” he continued. “Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?”

“I don’t know,” her heart was racing. “Where do you see yourself?”

“I’m going into politics and law,” he replied, with certainty. “Maybe mayor of Havermouth? Maybe the local MP? Contract law. Cameron, of course, will work the land. His family’s land. And Rhett will end up with a tattoo parlour.”

“All in Havermouth?”

“Or one of the towns around here, but, yeah, probably Havermouth,” he replied. “The river house is here; our family and people are here. It is where we belong.”

“I don’t belong here,” she lifted the rose to her nose and breathed in its scent.

“I think that you could if you decided you wanted to. I think that half your problem is that you look down on Havermouth. We’re just a small country town that your parents have dragged you to. You don’t see it as your home.”

“Havermouth doesn’t want me,” she replied.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

“But true,” she pointed out. “I am the Triquetra’s whore. That’s not something you call someone that you want.”

He turned suddenly, cutting off her next step, and catching her chin between his finger and thumb, lifting her face. “Your dad gave you a black eye.”

“He didn’t mean to,” she couldn’t meet his eyes. “It was an accident.”

“He doesn’t like us.”

“He has heard the rumours,” she dragged her chin out of his hand so that she didn’t have to look at him. “He is embarrassed and ashamed of me.”

She heard him in-draw a breath. There was a sharp and raw pain in her chest, as if something clawed from within, trying to get out. She was afraid of releasing that creature, and swallowed hard, seeking to swallow it down, down to where it would be contained.

“You tried to tell us.” He barely put sound behind the words. “You weren’t ashamed of us. You were afraid.”

“I am still afraid,” like him, she mouthed the words more than spoke them. “Havermouth sees you as normal, horny, teenaged boys for fucking me, but I am a slut, a whore. You are worried about what your parents will think if they find out that the Triquetra fuck each other. You can see what my parents do when they find out that there is a rumour that I am fucking the Triquetra. That’s not a fear, it’s real. It doesn’t matter, though, does it Heath?” She dragged her eyes up to his. “I’m to talk politely, not say no, dress how you say and let you use me as you like, without protest, no matter what others say about me, no matter what happens when I go home?”

“Aislen,” he barely breathed the name.

She swallowed hard. “Did I break a rule? That’s okay, maybe I need more bruises to make me remember. My face and arse can match that way, after all. Sooner or later, between you and my father, maybe I will eventually learn something. I’m not entirely sure what that will be, but I’m sure that between you, you’ll make sure that I don’t forget exactly how much of a whore that I am.” She felt her mouth pull down against the sob. “And how deserving of the bruises that makes me.”

“Fuck,” he ground the word out and lifted his face to the sun, closing his eyes, and she saw that a tear ran down his cheek and off the point of his jaw. “Fuck,” he said thickly, and he breathed in heavily through his nose, almost panting. “Okay. Okay,” he sighed the word.

She shook her head. “Nothing has been okay since I met you three,” she told him darkly. “Nothing has been okay at all for me.”

“It’s Friday,” he opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Let’s just get through this weekend. After this weekend, Aislen, things will change. I promise. I will find the way forward. Trust me,” he hooked her chin on his index finger and brushed his lips over hers. “I will find a way.”