Read Online The Bones of You by Gary McMahon - Free Book Online

maybe because I was glad it had turned out that way, and wanted to show my gratitude.
    We sat there on the sofa, panting, feeling like we’d just run a fast mile.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, between breaths.
    “It’s okay.” I touched her knee, and then took away my hand. This sudden awkwardness confused me, made me question what we were doing here anyway, on the grotty sofa, in this dull little house. “It’s my fault. I’m out of practice.”
    She looked at me with such a degree of hopelessness that I thought I’d said or done something tragically wrong. Her eyes were empty; her face was a void.
    “No,” she whispered. “It isn’t you. It’s me…it’s always me.”
    I waited, knowing that something big was coming: something important was about to enter the room and start making a fuss.
    “I have issues…issues in this area. In the bedroom area.” She sighed. “I can’t even fucking say it, can I? That word: sex .” She winced, as if she’d been struck lightly across the face.
    “You don’t have to say anything.” I didn’t know whether to reach out for her or to stay where I was, motionless, in case I spooked her.
    “No, I want to. You deserve to know. If you want to…”
    “If you want to tell me, then I want to know.” It seemed like the right thing to say, and it was certainly how I felt. I didn’t want to push her into saying anything that made her nervous. It was up to her. None of this was my call to make, so all I could do was be there for her if she wanted me.
    “A long time ago, I was mistreated. A man broke me. I can’t really say much more, because it hurts too badly. Even after all these years, it hurts like a bastard.” Her voice was cracking; her throat was dry and hoarse. I realized it was taking an amazing amount of strength for her to tell me even this much.
    I groped toward her and took her hand. She didn’t fight me, didn’t pull away, not this time, so I gripped her hand tighter, trying to communicate to her all the things that I was unable to put into words. Those nebulous thoughts and feelings, the ones that never wanted to come out into the light.
    “I know,” she said, looking at me, at my face, my eyes. “I know.” She smiled. Her teeth were small and white, and for a moment they looked like those of a vampire. Her skin was so very pale. I was afraid of her but I didn’t know why…and then I did know, because what scared me was her immense strength. Telling me this had cost her a lot. She had taken such a great risk. I was glad that it had not been in vain, that I hadn’t let her down.
    Carole left soon afterward. There wasn’t much more to say, and I think we both felt that we might spoil the mood if we tried. We kissed lightly on the doorstep, just a quick peck, really; it was all we could muster after the emotional onslaught that had come before.
    I’d offered her a lift, but she wanted to take a taxi. I watched silently as it pulled away from the curb. She didn’t look back, out of the window, as the car moved slowly along the street, but it didn’t feel like an affront. She had no need to look for me. She already knew I was there.
    I went back inside and turned out the lights on the ground floor, then headed for the stairs. Just as I passed the cellar door, I heard a soft scraping sound, like a key slipping into a lock, or fingernails tickling the other side of the door.
    “Oh, fuck off,” I said, annoyed that my mind was conjuring such an image.
    I reached out and opened the cellar door without even pausing. The wooden staircase led down into darkness. I leaned into the doorway, reached around the frame, and flicked on the light. The cellar wasn’t exactly bright with the light on—all there was down there was a single bare bulb. But the light was harsh; it strained rudely toward the dark corners.
    The cellar was large and airy, quite unlike the ones in horror films. These houses were relatively modern—they were built in the 1960s—so