In the beginning, I couldn’t even stand. It was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the slight pain in my side from when I hit the pole.
It was a lot more than that, though.
It was fear — worse than Halloween, worse than the costumes.
I needed Mum and Dad, and I didn’t know how to find them.
They were at a party, and they’d sent me with Uncle Ed. I hated Uncle Ed. I was going to be happy when he went to Australia.
I remember holding on to a pole with stiff fingers and then walking slowly at first. I remember buttoning my Dracula shirt and trousers because Dad had said an Astor always had to look proper.
And then I ran. I ran fast and hard down the street, then I tripped and fell and then stood up again and ran. There were lots of trees on the side of that road, and they had faces, and their faces looked like the demons from Mum’s stories.
I called out for her then. “Mother! Where are you, Mother?”
When she didn’t answer, I called, “Father? Come find me.”
He didn’t answer either. I didn’t stop limping and tripping and falling, but I couldn’t cry.
There wasn’t a single tear in my eyes.
An Astor doesn’t cry.Dad’s words were the only sound in my head.
I was a proper boy. A good boy. I couldn’t cry.
So I called out for them again. “Mother! Father! Where are you? Come get me.”
They didn’t.
People wearing wolf masks scared me and I screamed, but I didn’t cry.
I couldn’t cry.
I knew I shouldn’t.
That’s when I saw them. Bunnies — or rather women wearing bunny costumes and giggling.
They had bunny ears and their pink bunny dresses were flying behind them as they laughed and giggled.
Suddenly, I didn’t have the urge to not cry. I had the urge to run after them and catch them.
But the moment I rounded the corner, they were gone.
Lars found me soon after. He’d followed us because he was worried. I didn’t tell him what had happened. I said I’d had a fight with Uncle Ed, and he just nodded.
Mum and Dad didn’t come home that night or the night after. They had a Halloween party for three nights, and I didn’t sleep once during that time.
All I could do was have nightmares about dark streets and a weight on my body and a bunny running down the street.
And Lars found me every time.
I didn’t say anything to Dad because Uncle Ed was leaving anyway, and I hated myself. I hated Dad too for leaving me with him that night. I also didn’t want Mum to know; it’d destroy her.
She trusted him with me, and he stabbed that trust. She’d hate herself for not seeing the signs, and she’d suspect something else had happened.
Nothing did, though not for lack of trying on his part — he did attempt to corner me a few times when he visited.
I was Uncle Ed’s forbidden fruit. The more I escaped him, the harder he tried to put his fucking hands on me, but I was smarter.
When I was a kid and couldn’t defend myself, I hid behind Lars. I was always with Lars whenever he came to visit. Lars, who already suspected something, never ever left me alone. He made sure to have me in his sight all the time.
When I grew up, Uncle Eduard kept his hands to himself, as he should’ve, because I told him in no certain terms that I’d beat him the fuck up if he as much as puts his hands on me.
He always brought up my weakness for Mum. Whenever he felt like I would slip and tell Dad about his paedophile activities, Eduard reminded me of how much it would shatter my mum. How much it would make her already fragile mental state worse.
That was and is the only reason Eduard Astor still exists in my life.
I’ve borne the memory all this time. I can carry it until the very end. Mum doesn’t need to know about this, and Dad certainly doesn’t.
He abandoned me that night, and deep down, I never forgave him for it.
* * *
I pauseafter telling Teal the story. I left out the fact that the man who did that to me is my uncle and the part about the bunnies because I don’t want her to be disgusted with me. I don’t want her to think I’m sick for having a fantasy about bunnies when they’re associated with the darkest night of my life.
“That’s why I’m always with people,” I say. “People allow me to think less about myself. When I was a child, I had this idea that having so many people around meant nothing like that would happen to me again, but in order to be with people, I had to be liked by people. That’s the reason behind that image and the parties and the sex. I didn’t shag girls because I wanted to, but because I needed the company. I needed to not sleep alone. I needed to wake up in the morning and find many people in my house because that meant I wasn’t alone and nothing bad would happen to me.”
Two streams of tears fall down Teal’s cheeks. She’s been holding them in for so long while I’ve been telling her that memory, but now, it’s like she has reached the saturation level and can’t keep it in anymore.
“Here’s the thing, belle.” My voice drops. “Since you came into my life, I don’t need people anymore. I just need you.”
I sound like a sappy fuck, but I don’t care. I’m not allowing her to walk away from this. It might have started wrong, but she’s grown to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“How can you make me cry when I can’t cry for myself?” More tears soak her cheeks, but she doesn’t attempt to wipe them, as if it’s freeing in some way.
“We’re so alike.” She sniffles. “It’s scary.”
I smile tentatively. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“No, Ronan. It means I need to stay away from you so I don’t destroy us both.”
Teal
People say actual craziness isn’t noticeable.
It seeps under the surface and eats at you piece by bloody piece. It creeps up on you like a vampire to blood or a predator to prey.
But I do. I feel it.
I wouldn’t call it craziness, but it’s something abnormal.
It’s what stops me from laughing out of courtesy when everyone else does. They recognise the societal norms; I don’t. Even Knox does. He’s way better at blending in than me, and it’s probably why the therapist liked working with him, but never with me.
I heard her tell Agnus I’m a well. She said there’s a lot of digging that needs to be done, and I’m not allowing her to do that.
I’m an anomaly even with the people who treat crazy, and I’ve always taken pride in that.
I looked in the mirror and liked my scowling face. People react differently to trauma. There are those who lean on their closest family and friends. There are those who fight so they can smile again. And there are those who close in on themselves and eventually spiral out of control.
Then there’s me.