Ghouls

The tickling sensation at the top of my arm started almost instantly. I groaned and twisted in the hard truck seat so that I was scrunched up against the window as my hand shooed the tickling away.

“Lau,” someone chuckled, “Lau, wake up.”

I recognised the voice as Brian’s and groaned louder,

“What do you want?” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes awake.

“I need to know which of these keys are the keys to your flat... that is if you still want to go to mine; I can drop you and Hud here if you want,” he asked with concern.

I shifted in the chair, dropping my feet to the floor as I stretched awake, “no, no, Bri; I want to go to yours,” I lazily smiled at him.

“Sure?”

“Yes,” I nodded, shuddering, rubbing my bare shoulders. “Wait, what are you going in my flat for? Why didn’t you just take me to yours?” I asked, my brows furrowing in confusion.

He couldn’t suppress the grin that found itself twisting into his lips, “you wanted me to get you pants.”

My brows instantly rose at his statement, “hang on, what makes you think I was allowing you into my panty draw?” I smiled.

“Well, I was kinda banking on the fact you wouldn’t wake up and question me,” he tried desperately not to grin as his smile stretched across his face when he blushed lightly.

That in turn made me blush heavily, looking away out of the window to avoid his cute face, “well then, considering I’m ridiculously tired and you’re both ridiculously enthusiastic and ridiculously fit, you can go all the way up to my flat to get them,” I told him.

His grin grew, “you think I’m fit?”

I groaned, “physically fit Brian; it’s a long way up and no elevator, now fuck off.”

“Oookay,” he took the keys out of the ignition and jumped from the truck, leaving me and Hud alone.

I shuddered, sat alone in the still, cold night, massaging my arms to try and stimulate heat. I looked out towards my apartment building and could have sworn I’d seen something big run from one flower bed to the other, across the door, and start to climb the wall at the side. It sent shivers down my spine and made my mind immediately worry about Brian on his own in my flat with that...thing making its descent. I quickly shook off my stupidity and put my radio on, trying to rid the thoughts from my mind.

The smooth melody of Scar Tissue by the Red Hot Chili Peppers seemed to flow through the speakers as the lyrics seemed to mimic a lot that I was, everything from:

Scar tissue that I wish you saw, sarcastic, Mr. Know-it-all,
To:
Blood lost in the bathroom stall, Southern girl with a scarlet drawl,
To:
Soft spoken with a broken jaw, step outside but not to brawl,

The song quickly brought small tears to my eyes as I thought of all my family and friends I left behind after what I’d done, moving on to all the friends I’d made and all the mistakes I’d made already... most specifically with Brian; how much I wanted to tell him, how much trust I was building in him.. how I’d hurt him already and how I was bound to hurt him with what I’d tell him.

As quickly as he went, he came back, small jaw-string bag and dog bed in hand. I swiftly wiped my tears from my face and curled back up onto the seat.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, a little confused at my sniffling and rubbing my eyes.

“Yeah, just tired,” I lied.

“Okay, well, let’s put some good music on and get you back and fed and then we can sleep, if you’d like,” he smiled at me.

“Sounds good.”

He climbed into the truck, handing me my bag and putting the bed on the back seats with Hud. I opened the bag, surprised to find that Bri hadn’t picked out any of my most revealing or lacy panties but just a few pairs of plain, black boyshorts. The fact he’d been considerate enough to not get nothing too...sexy.. elicited a warmth in my chest that I’d figured was my love and trust in him was growing even further, if possible; it told me he wasn’t going to try it on or go too far, not if I didn’t want to anyway. But it also said that he didn’t mind seeing me in them, if he were to see me, and that made me comfortable.

We’d been driving for a few minutes with the low hum of one of my Nickelback CDs playing before he said, “is all that okay? I wasn’t sure what to pick up so I just picked up the plainest, most comfortable looking ones,” he noticed me looking through the bag.
Along with the pants, he’d picked me up clean socks and what looked like a change of clothes; a clean shirt and some shorts, “no, it’s perfect, thank you,” I smiled.

He grinned, “good.” His posture straightened as he looked genuinely proud of himself, making us both chuckle.

“I’m through with standing in line to clubs I’ll never get in,
It’s like the bottom of the knife and I’m never gonna win,
This life hasn’t turned out quite the way I want it to be,
(Tell me what you want,)”

I chimed in to the familiar words of Nickleback’s Rockstar.

“I want a brand-new house on an episode of Cribs,
And a bathroom I can play baseball in,
And a king size tub, big enough for 10 plus me,
(Care for what you need,)”

Brian joined in as he too recognised the song.

“I need a credit card that’s got no limit,
And a big, black jet with a bedroom in it,
Gonna join the mile-high club at 37,000 ft,
(Been there, done that,)

As we both got more into the song, imitating the almost southern American accent (despite being Canadian) of Chad Kroeger in the song rather hilariously, dancing along, Brian leaned over to turn the stereo up a little.

I want a new tour bus full of old guitars,
My own star on Hollywood Boulevard,
Somewhere between Cher and James Dean is fine for me,
(So, how you gonna do it?)
I’m gonna trade this life for fortune and fame,
I even cut my hair and change my name,

Brian leaned over again, this time to turn the song up to the max, blasting it through the stereo to the point I could barely hear him singing; I could simply see him dancing along and singing, tapping along to the beat on the wheel. I could have sworn all of Huntington Beach could hear it, making me laugh uncontrollably, and going bright red with embarrassment as the chorus came in:

‘Cause we all just wanna be big rock stars,
And live in hilltop houses driving 15 cars,
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap,
We’ll all stay skinny ‘cause we just don’t eat,
And we’ll hang out in the coolest bars,
Get in VIP with the movie stars,
Every good gold digger’s gonna wind up there,
Every Playboy bunny with the bleach-blonde hair,
And, well, hey, hey, I wanna be a rock star,
Hey, hey, I wanna be a rock star – “

The singing, dancing, and laughing continued all the way home to Brian’s, the loud music gladly waking me up. His insatiable singing continued into the house as Hud near enough knocked him over in his desperate attempt to get to his good friend, Pinkly. Brian had a generally good singing voice but his Nickelback impersonation indeed needed tweaking, or be it just that song. As Hud knocked him over, he fell into me. I grabbed his strong arms and stood in the direction he was falling to let his drunken body fall to stop at my body, making him look at me. His large, brown eyes seem to absorb me completely, so much so, I almost kissed him, but the time passed when he began laughing hysterically, which made me laugh with him, although disappointed I didn’t get a kiss.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I chuckled.

His facial expression dropped, “shit.”

“What is it?” I asked, concerned, rubbing his arms.

“I didn’t think this far ahead,” his view was fixed ahead of him, “I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough for you to say yes,” he face looked slightly emotional, but of happiness, as he looked down at me, a goofy, tipsy smile spreading his face.

“Awwwe, well, let’s see what you have got,” I smiled, walking towards his kitchen, through the living room.

I stood in front of the cabinets, next to the island, as a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my body and a stubbly chin rested on my bare shoulder, his body swayed lightly.

“What’s up with you? How come you’re so cheery and... friendly?” I asked him, turning my face to look at his.

His chin lifted to look at me better, “I don’t really know; maybe it’s the little alcohol I had, maybe it’s the Nickelback, maybe it’s being with you,” he smirked, making me blush.

“Well, okay then,” I shrugged him off, looking to the cabinets, “well, congrats on picking the worst woman ever,” I told him.

“Pssshht, you’re not the worst woman, you’re the best for God’s sake. What makes you think you’re not?” I blushed again, biting my lip to hold back the giggle.

“I can’t cook for shit,” I chuckled.

His forehead hit my shoulder in defeat as he laughed, “okay, maybe you’re right, that’s not ideal for right now because I can’t cook either and I was kinda hoping you’d know what you’re doing, but that does not back you bad woman... necessarily.”

“Necessarily?!”

“Wait, no, well, I don’t know, I guess it’s kinda stereotypical but you’re a girl, you should cook, I was praying for a girl that could cook,” he hugged me tighter in his half-apology.

“Okay, okay, well, looks like we’ve got soup, spaghetti and mac’n’cheese for the rest of our lives then because that’s where my abilities end,” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t mind.. if you’re really prepared to stay forever,” he smiled smugly at me.

I laughed what he’d set off, not forgetting though. I still wasn’t sure I wanted a relationship with him, never mind staying with him for the rest of our lives; if we tried he’d probably leave anyway, just like everyone else had.

“Okay then, have you go everything for bolognaise because I can do that,” I put my hands on my hips and continued to scan the cupboards.

“Yep, I’ll get ‘em,” his arms left me and goose bumps formed at the sudden rush of cold air to my back where his warm body had been pressed.

I stood by and watched as his lean body bent and bowed as he got the ingredients and utensils needed for cooking the dish. I suddenly felt myself get all-too excited. I always thought he was hot but something told me I needed him; it had been much too long since I’d any contact like that and the last time it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience on my part. Added to that, my love for him was surely growing and inside I knew he wouldn’t take advantage of me like other men had; I still had some doubt; paranoia does that to people, but if I didn’t think so hard about it, I believed he liked me almost as much as I liked him, and that he wouldn’t hurt me which, in times like these, was only fuel to the raging fire in the pit of my stomach.

“Oookay, tell me what to do,” he told me, standing at the island with all the food and pans in front of him.

“No, I can do it if you want,” I went to stand in front of him and start preparing when he took hold of my wrists and pushed me back against the island, heating me up.

“No no no no, you are the guest, I am the host. I will prepare... I just need a little guidance,” he admitted.

“Okay, okay, I’ll just stand and watch,” I looked at him a little disappointed, although I don’t think he picked up on it as he just smiled and said ‘good’ before pecking me on the cheek and returning to the food.

I’d become so disorientated by the light touch of his lips on my skin that he had to ask me several times where to start. I giggled nervously and walked him through each step to making spaghetti bolognaise. I helped him cook the spaghetti and minced beef as well as teaching him how to chop tomatoes and onions (which ended in lot of laughs as well as a lot of tears.) We then put the onions and tomatoes with the cooked mice and added the tomato sauce. He was like a child that had built his first sand castle on the beach and was so proud of it, despite it falling apart; he wore a huge grin and stood proudly as he dished up the slightly dodgy-looking food while I got us two beers from his fridge.

“Terminado!” He yelled as he waved his hands in the air before picking up the plates and placing them on his dining room table.

“What does that mean?” I asked as I opened the bottles and turned to put them on the table.

“It means ‘finished’ in Spanish,” he informed me as he opened the patio doors out onto his huge garden. He cleaned the area a little while I quickly fed both the dogs and took my seat at the opposite end of the table to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffed when he turned round to see me sat.

“What?”

“I was gonna do that gentlemen-y thing and pull your chair out and help you sit and shit,” he grumbled as he dropped himself onto his chair.

I giggled lightly at his upset, “Bri, it’s fine, you don’t need to be such a gentlemen; I’m not as bothered as other girls would be; I’m just happy I’ve got you,” I smiled, reaching out to hold is hand to comfort him.

He smiled weakly, “okay, if you’re sure.. I just wanna do this right, y’know? I don’t want to screw up again...” he looked down at his plate solemnly before starting.

I didn’t want to ask, despite my mind nagging at me in need to know, I could see he’d been hurt and I didn’t want to force that out of him; he hadn’t pushed me, so what gave me the right to push him?

There was an awkward silence as we finished our meal, which I decided to try and break when I finished eating, he’d finished a while before and seemed in deep thought as he played with his knife and fork on his plate.

“So, what now?” I asked, a smile on my face to try and cheer him up.

“I don’t mind,” he stretched, his arms flexing to settle on top of his head, the sight starting me up again.

“Well, if this is a real couple kind of date, maybe we need to learn a little more about each other? Ask some questions?” He seemed to cheer up as he became more engaged.

“Okay, you go first,” he now leant on the table, looking directly at me.

“Okay...” I thought, “how many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“I have one older brother, Mark, and a little sister, Jodie,” he smiled.

“Awwe, nice,” I smiled.

“What about you?”

“Oh, gosh, I’ve got one younger brother and 2 older brothers but they’re only half brothers,” I began to explain.

“Oh?” he queried, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his defined chest.

“Yeah.. Cam and Mikey are my Dad’s boys; their Mum died in a car accident a couple months after Cam was born, so Dad was left alone with them. Less than a year later, my Dad hooked up with my Mum; they’d always been friends but, they got married and had me,” I smiled.

“Aaah, odd considering how similar you and Cam are if you don’t have the same Mum.”

“Yeah, we get that a heck of a lot,” I told him.

“What about your younger brother?”

“Sam? Sam is the accident,” we both chuckled, “yeah, he’s only 15 so he came along a fair while after I did... that and Mum said she only ever wanted 3 kids and, with Dad’s kids, she never wanted anymore after me; she had them to look after as well... so yeah, there’s a fair amount of evidence to suggest he was an accident.. we just aren’t allowed to tell him; when he was younger he used to get so so upset.. he kinda takes it on the chin now; he knows we kid around with him but when he was little he’d go screaming to Mum and we’d all be in the dog house for picking on him,” I mused, going off on a tangent a little bit.

I looked up to see Brian looking at me, genuinely interested in what I was saying, “you sound so close to your family.. why did you leave?” he asked.

I froze.

I wasn’t sure whether I was ready to tell him yet. I didn’t want to hurt him and jeopardise all we had built. My heart beat fast and I began to sweat, my legs shaking as I rubbed my hands.

“Lau?...Lauren? Lauren, what’s up?” Brian reached his hand out to my arm to stop my shaking but I jolted away from his touch, “what is it?”

“I...I...I don’t know...I don’t know if I can...if I can face it,” it was then I realised my tears had returned, which made me sob more.

“Lau, I don’t mean to hurt you or pressurise you or anything but... I’m so worried. After taking you to the doctors today, your almost bipolar attitude; you go from being fine to snappy and guarded and upset, right back to being fine again.. out on the beach, you seemed so content then suddenly got defensive when I tried to take it a bit further. You seemed great when we got to the carnival, then got edgy when I held you when I was talking to the guys, then you were fine and fun when we were making tea, now you’re sat here crying... Lauren, I’m worried... I’m scared; I haven’t even mentioned all the times before today that you’ve acted strange. Shit, when you were here last; we were going so well, y’know? Then you just start crying and left, out of the blue... I don’t understand, I want to understand, but I can’t if you won’t let me in...”

His eyes had gone red and it looked like he was going to cry. I was shaking now, and he was knelt beside me, his hands on the table and the back of the chair as I refused to let him touch me. I’m not going to lie, I felt cornered... scared almost; scared history would repeat itself, just in a new, ‘safe’ environment.

“You know damn well why I left that night, Bri.. I know you do,” I forced myself to look at his sad, distressed face.

“What?.. Lau, you’re not making sense.. I have no idea,” his brows furrowed.

“Don’t Bri, just... don’t,” I looked away again, holding my breath and my eyelids and mouth closed to help stop the tears.

His head shook in confusion, “honestly, Lau, I don’t know...”

There was a pause before I gave up and reminded him, my voice hitching and tears falling, “my scars, Bri, y’know? The fucking ugly, permanent scars that litter my thighs?”

His head continued to shake, “Lauren, I...don’t remember any scars and I think I would remember them if there were any.. but either way, I wouldn’t care; you’re beautiful as it is; I don’t mind,” his words made me cringe; nothing could stop me from thinking he was bullshitting me.

“Stop, Brain.” I growled, getting angry.

“I just don’t get it..why would you say that? Why would you say you have scars when you don’t?” he began.

That’s when I snapped. “What? You fucking serious? You calling me a liar as well? They’re fucking there, Brain! I think I’d remember when it fucking happened! I was raped, they did it to me,” I was shouting but by the time I let it slip about the...rape I was barely whispering.

“What?” he was angry, “who did that to you?!”

I sat and cried, “it was my boyfriend at the time... he tied me up on a chair and...cut me and...” I couldn’t finish. Brian went to stroke my back when I jolted away. He went from being confused to just trying to help me, but angry it had happened.

“When was this?” he almost spat, trying to hold his nerve.

“I was 19..”

“Is that why you left? Here and home? Is that why you wouldn’t tell me?... is that why you don’t like it when I touch you?” tears began to trail from his eyes and it broke my heart all the more.

“Not exactly, it’s why I get defensive; I forget for a while then all of a sudden, I’ll be reminded and I clam up and get scared,” I explained, “I didn’t want to tell you because it’s not the only reason I left.”

He pulled out one of the other chairs, sitting to my right, one hand on the back of the chair, one on his knee, “can you tell me?”

“Bri..I..” I wasn’t sure; my mind had told me enough; I couldn’t tell him everything, but my heart was ready to spill all of its upheld hurt that it’s contained within itself for too long.

“Please,” he went to stroke my face, but when I shifted and held my breath, he stopped.

I exhaled heavily, calming myself for telling him, “well, the... thing... it didn’t just happen once..” I began. I looked at him, he was even more confused than before. “I was 15... so were the other boys... there were about 3 of them.. 1 of them did.. it.. the others just watched and laughed,” my breath hitched and I broke a little, tears streaming down both our faces, his hand went to stroke my hair to calm me, I froze a second and he stopped, but held his hand on my shoulder.

He was going to say something when I went to start again, “they had bullied me for years. You see, I had a hormonal imbalance which caused me to have more.. hair.. than most kids...guys and girls.. and they’d taunted me and ...touched me.. for years. Everyone at the school had their go, but these boys in particular did it a lot..”

His grip on my shoulder tightened as he spoke, “Lauren, I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be; it’s not your fault,” I tried to smile at him, “but they’re not the actual reason why I left..”

“Oh?...what was?”

“No one believed me. Just like you don’t.. or didn’t... my friends, my family.. they all called me a liar. I had no one. No one to support me; all the guys that did it denied it, of course. After my boyfriend, everyone thought I was mad.. or an attention seeker, one of the two. They thought I made it all up; did it to try and get attention. They thought that both cases were just so out there and mad and wrong, added to the fact that there was ‘no physical harm’, which there was, they just ignored it and pretended it wasn’t there, and that meant they never happened. I ‘dreamt’ them. No one saw the scratches on my back or the razor marks on my shoulders and neck when I was 15, and no one saw the cuts on my thighs and shoulders from my boyfriend when I was 19; I was the liar,” I sobbed, weakly smiling at Brian.

All of a sudden, he leapt from his chair and picked me up from mine, holding me in his warm, safe embrace, “I am so so SO sorry, Lauren. I promise I will never touch you, ever, unless you absolutely want me to. I will be there for you, I want to be there for you... I need to be there for you. I can’t let you do this alone,” he sniffled, placing me back on the floor as I sobbed into his shoulder. “Does anyone else know?”

I cleared my throat, wiping my eyes, “no.”

He held me tighter, “I’m sorry for asking.”

“Please, don’t be, you deserve to know; I’ve been so shit to you.. you deserve some answers,” I looked up at him, falling into his sad, but entrancing chocolate gaze. His eyes left mine as his hand came up to stroke my face while he admired it, and I admired his, my head gladly leaning into the comfort of his loving hands. My confidence seemed to burst as I leant up and pressed my lips to his. It surprised the both of us and we both gasped. An electricity coursed through my body, something I had only ever had with him. He seemed to pull away, as if cautious of all I’d said, but soon surrendered to my persistence. My hand climbed to stroke his neck and jaw as our kiss deepened. After a few moments, he pulled away, leaving me gasping for my breath, slightly disappointed, “why did you stop?”

“I don’t want to take this too quickly.. you’ve just told me a whole chunk of your life story, Lau, I don’t want to jeopardise that trust by taking you without your complete consent... I want to this properly...do it slow,” he told me honestly.

I looked away from him, disappointed; for the first time in my life since that frightful night at 19, I wanted a man. I needed a man. I needed Brian. I just needed to prove that I was ready and happy for him to have me because the truth of it was; I needed him to wipe my memories. My only memories of any sexual activity I really have are those two nights, and I need him to replace them. Replace the pain with pleasure. Their hands, with his. I needed him to make me well again. I needed him to save me.

“So, if you won’t let me have.. that.. what do you want to do?” I asked, pulling my body from his to lean back to the table to finish my beer.
“Movie?” he asked.

“Sounds great,” I smiled, and it was genuine. For years I’d been hiding behind a false facade, a false smile, pretending I was okay, but with him? That was different. Even after spilling my darkest fears, my darkest secrets to him, I was happy. Only with him.

Notes