Content Notice – Younger Days contains violence
Part three of my series For the Sins of Red – Younger Days
Finally I fell into a deep sleep until a noise – shrill and intrusive – abruptly pulled me back to reality.
I took a moment to assess what was my life. It seemed vastly different from two weeks ago. I thought the harsh noise was maybe some kind of alarm, probably triggered by a car out side.
Pushing my head into the pillow I willed it to stop. But no. Eventually, I couldn’t lay there any longer. I got up, looked out of my bedroom window and saw a different surveillance vehicle had now taken the place of Wilkins and Collins. In the dim light from the street lamps I vaguely caught the outline of a woman in the passenger seat, reading. Looked like a kindle. How could she concentrate with this infernal ringing? Then I realised the racket was actually coming from the other room.
Pulling a baggy jumper over my pajamas I marched out to the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when I saw my sister, Marie, cloth in hand, waving at the smoke alarm. Burnt toast waiting to be removed from the toaster.
She looked at me, then glanced back at the task in hand. Finally the noise halted and we sat down at the kitchen table.
“What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.” I exclaimed.
“Well, it’s actually 5am. I have a schedule you know. Breakfast at five, shower at half past. Then at my desk – I mean your desk – by 6. It’s not easy following your grades.” Marie ended by scowling at me.
“Right.” I didn’t know what else to say. My sister was a routine freak. Product of my mother. “I have to be at the police station at 9.30.”
“Let me make you a coffee.” It was clear she suddenly felt sorry for me.
We sipped our drinks in silence until she finally succumbed to curiosity.
“Rosie.” She whined in a sickly sweet tone. “When you moved in with him, was he -Clive I mean- well, a perv? Back then. I’ve read the newspapers.”
She seemed genuinely interested and I thought it may help me to get events straight in my head for the police, so once again I looked back nine years and launched into a monologue of my younger days with Clive, the notorious serial killer, while Marie sat opposite listening, totally absorbed.
At first Clive was a gentle guy. He treated me well. With respect. Shortly after I moved in and started work at Weatherspoons he got a job in the library, of all places. I laughed when he told me as it was the same one where he’d been rescued as a baby. Working with books suited him down to the ground and the council soon had him training part-time as a librarian.
To many we must have seemed an odd couple. Me, the gregarious barmaid and Clive the quiet, book worm. We didn’t often socialise with friends as a couple. Clive didn’t have any. Not one. And mine were simply too outgoing for him. I would have a Friday night out after work with my mates and that was it. The rest of the evenings Clive and I would cook, watch movies or read – together.
It was at this point that Marie said, “Sex. What about the sex?”
That was certainly something I had pondered over. But back then Clive was my first relationship. I didn’t know what was acceptable. What was usual for couples. The fact was, we rarely had sex. When we did Clive would make a big thing of us both showering and putting on a clean duvet cover after. Like he was ashamed of our pleasure.
When he climaxed he was almost apologetic. That was odd, and he also didn’t like it when I was noisy, you know, during sex. In fact he would sometimes cover my face with a hand trying to quieten me. Once he shoved my panties in my mouth and then turned me on my front and fucked my arse. We were drunk. Which was a good job as I was relaxed so it didn’t hurt too much. Now I am older and wiser I know a lot of people include many kinds of kinky acts in their lives. But adding all the other stuff up I probably should have realised his behaviour was unhinged.
Going back to the night he buggered me, I’d assumed it was just the alcohol, and put it to the back of my mind.
The next day he couldn’t do enough to please me. Ran me a bubble bath. Made dinner. Trying to make up. Although, we didn’t mention what had happened at all. But, in general I’d say we were close. We talked about so many different things. His past and how he wondered who his real parents were. And mum. Neither of us was keen on her. He went round to pick some of my stuff up after I’d moved out. She was verbally very rude to him. At the time he didn’t deserve that. Getting whipped by her sharp tongue.
Things muddled along okay, mostly, for about a year. Then I got promoted and started shadowing a proper area manager. On occasions I’d have to stay in a hotel on the other side of town. Clive didn’t like that. We had loads of arguments about my job. When I returned from working away he’d have a bath ready for me. And then come and sit and watch intently while I bathed. I’m sure he was examining my body in case there were signs I had been with someone else. A couple of times I caught him loading the washing machine and checking my knickers.
This all happened slowly. So his obsessions seemed to creep up on me. It didn’t really hit me what had been going on until, well, until the week before I left.
I wasn’t planning on leaving him but one evening my boss, Jack, dropped me home after a meeting. We sat in the car for five minutes chatting and laughing about something from earlie. I said goodbye and ran up the path to the front door. I saw Clive looking out the window. When I walked in he slammed the door, grabbed me and pushed me against it. Before I knew what was happening he landed a crack across the left side of my face. So hard I fell to the floor. Shouting obscenities. Accusing me of whoring with the boss.
I suppose that’s the moment I realised that our relationship was toxic. And I had to work out how to get away from him.
Marie was looking shocked. Eyes and mouth wide open. So I stopped. Enough of my younger days. Back to the present and I needed to get ready for when the police came to collect me. So, I gave her a hug. As if she was the one who needed comforting. Funny really. And I asked her to make sure there was some food in for tea.
Header image use for Younger Days Part Three is from Unsplash