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Chapter One – Hedone
Allow me to bring you back to London.
Oxford, more specifically. A place where the weather is as dreadful as the traffic, where danger looms thick in the air, lurking around every corner, slithering along black alleyways, scratching about in the dark, plotting another depraved act, masturbating into a handkerchief—whatever it is we have to do to keep ourselves sane. Or the opposite, depending on how you look at it. I look at it like this—some of us do insane things to keep ourselves from becoming insane, while some of us don’t need a reason at all.
Allow me to bring you back to us, Matt and I, and our connection that bled more than it soothed.
Our lives were cast in a heavy shadow of loneliness before we met, lusted, obsessed, and drained one another dry. I often thought about how things would be if we never met when he was fifteen. How normal, how terribly boring. Perhaps we could have found ourselves on a path to forgiveness rather than encouraging one another to walk closer to hell, but perhaps you can’t be forgiven if you aren’t bothered either way. If I was to make a list of my regrets, it would be a journal of additional misadventures I never got to do. More blackmail, more power, more boys.
That’s not to say I don’t have any regrets, because I certainly do.
If I could rewind time, I would have tormented Matt and myself for longer; continued playing the game of cat and mouse until neither of us could run anymore. That’s what I loved, after all. That’s what it’s all about. The chase, the thrill, and the first time I gave in to it—anything beyond that is dessert. I would have done the same with Will, chased him for longer; earned more of his trust; plotted my moves more carefully, like a master of chess. And I was a master, a master of my own game. With Will I was younger and new to the rules—I acted on impulse, allowed the internal lust to take over the rational part of my brain, resulting in one of the best, most depraved nights of my life, the night we had sex in my car when he was fourteen and I was twenty-seven. I often wondered if Will would still be alive had I not let Matt get too close to the truth. Was there something a little less drastic that could be done? Without Matt in the picture, I could have talked Will down, made him see sense and remember he was as consenting as I was. I could recall that night frame by frame, as accurately as a video recording, and I certainly didn’t hear any complaints. When he came looking for answers I would have soothed his anger, fed him the lies I knew he wanted to hear…
Your memory is a bit washy, that’s all. You know I’d never hurt you, not intentionally. I cared for you the moment I saw you, Will, and you were just so beautiful, there at the back of my classroom with your thick head of chestnut brown curls. I had to have you. Blue eyed boy. Can you blame me? You loved every second of it back then, don’t you remember? It broke my heart when you moved away, I had to move too. Everything reminded me of you…
Weighing on the past is pointless unless you’re willing to learn from your mistakes, and I’m not sure I was capable of correcting mine. Oh, how easy it is to lose everything, it happens so fast you don’t know it’s over until you have nothing left.
Matt killed Will before I got a chance to see him again and offer an explanation. He saved me from becoming the exposé of the year, and for that I had to be grateful, right? Perhaps I would have shown gratitude, had Matt actually told me what he did. But he didn’t tell me. I had to find out on Facebook, of all places, that a body was found in the Thames, and that the body belonged to William Smithers, my ex-pupil, my ex-lover. I’m sure you remember. He was murdered on the night of Halloween at just twenty-eight years old, the same night Matt came home covered head to toe in blood and I failed to probe deep enough as to the reason why. I helped him burn the evidence in our back garden, in the firepit next to the fish pond. Weeks later, when I stumbled on the Facebook post and finally discovered the truth, I went home to confront Matt. There, he told me the truth—Will came to Oxford in search of justice and Matt gutted him as punishment for it. Then, he nearly gutted me in the aftermath.
We had the tendency to let things escalate, and that night was just one of our many acts of perverted justice against one another. Everything was heightened, our senses in a frenzy, both of us on the floor, naked and fighting for the Stanley blade. I remember the heat of my own blood as it seeped from my chest, a stream of dark red chaos. Hades, begging for another soul. Matt, ready to deliver. I always thought it would end that way—death by a lover’s hand, but it turned out Matt was as much of a liar as I was. I gave myself to him, closed my eyes and prepared to wade into the quiet, and Matt put the blade down. It was all part of the game. I unintentionally called his bluff. He realised he was lucky—no other person in their right or wrong mind would continue to love such a callous hellion. No one else would feel safe sleeping next to him at night, nor would they gaze into his baby blues with nothing but adoration, even when he has a knife to their chest. Not to say I never punished him for it—believe me I did, again and again. He would let me, he would stay, because without me and the acceptance I brought and my own hidden impulses, he would be alone. All on his lonesome, prowling the city in search for a warm body and a quick fuck before rendering them lifeless and disappearing into the night like a ghost. Poof, and he’s gone, he was never really there. No one to confide in, and, with the exception of the dead, no one to share his secrets and lies. Without each other, we were lost ships on an ocean in which we did not belong. Our chances of survival were better together.
So I asked Matt to marry me. It was something I always wanted for myself, the romantic pipedream to complete the perfect facade. Besides, what better way was there to have Matt truly belong to me than to give him my name? Matt & Julian Blake. It’s got a ring to it, I think, and speaking of rings, we had them engraved. They said in elegant script: If my love for you wanes, kill me. I know you think we’re insane. I suppose if you didn’t there would be something wrong with you, and you won’t ever admit that, will you?
The wedding ceremony was perfect, quiet and private, just how I liked it. No one mentioned my sister’s absence, but it was noticed, nonetheless. Not even Matt made a snide remark. I pretended for the whole day it didn’t bother me, like I hardly noticed Ashley was missing, but deep down I wanted to find her and scream in her face. It was raising eyebrows, whispering itself around the castle. My own sister for crying out loud.
Yes, things were rocky with Ashley since she caught Matt and I, when he was sixteen and breathless over my coffee table, and yes, I admit it must have been a tough image to erase—even I thought about it constantly, the memory, the distraction, how young he was, how stupid I was—but however shocking a scene it was to see, surely Ashley’s reaction was a little excessive. Was it truly enough to make her despise Matt and I? I needed answers, and once we were home from Greece and we came down from our honeymoon high, I decided to use my last free day off work to visit my sister and niece.
Upon my arrival, Ashley handed me a black envelope with Jules written on it, and the card inside had been thoughtfully personalised. The outside had a picture of the Grim Reaper holding a scythe, and the inside read: Congratulations, Brother, on signing your life away. Rest in peace. Lots of love, Ash x
‘Hilarious, sis,’ I said, tucking the card into my coat pocket. I was already agitated and tired from the early flight home the day before, and I could feel how unwelcome I was within seconds of being there, so I knew it would be a short visit. Ashley didn’t sit either, instead she stood in her lounge doorway while I leaned against the staircase. Everything about her body language told me I wasn’t invited another step closer.
She said, ‘You could’ve called.’
‘I tried. You never pick up.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Great.’
‘What are you doing here, Jules?’
‘Where’s Annabella?’
‘You never come to see her—’
‘Because you never let me, Ash.’
‘The only reason you’ve asked about her is because you’re here to throw a tantrum over the wedding,’ she said. ‘Don’t pretend it’s for anything else, Jules. Just save it. You don’t really give a shit.’
‘How can you say that? She’s my niece. I love her.’
‘Yeah, well, you have a fantastic way of showing it.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’ I asked. ‘You just admitted you never answer the phone when I call you. How am I to keep a relationship with Anna, or you for that matter, when you refuse to give me the chance?’
Ashley sighed, knowing I was right, and said, ‘Anna’s out with her friends, she’s not here, and she won’t be back until ten.’
‘What the hell do you mean she’s out with her friends. She’s a kid—’
‘Nearly fourteen. I know my own daughter’s age.’
‘Oh I know that for Christ sake. I’m just saying, you know.’
‘Yeah, well. How about you try keeping a teenager in the house, and let me know how it goes for you.’
‘Isn’t ten a little late?’ I asked. ‘Don’t you worry about her?’
Ashley chuckled. By the look on her face I could tell she was about to be a stone-cold bitch.
‘Sure I do,’ she said. ‘But I mean… by your standards, technically in two years she could be in bed with a man older than her father.’
Technically she could be now… She wanted a reaction which I held back, stayed silent to force her to continue so I wouldn’t have to respond. ‘Let’s just get this over with. I know you didn’t come here to see Annabella and I certainly hope you aren’t here to offer your insightful parenting advice. Remind me how many kids you’ve had again?’
The question struck me like a bolt of lightning. I almost gave her an answer.
‘I didn’t come here to argue. Why do you have to make everything so difficult, Ash? All I want is for us to be able to have a conversation that doesn’t end in a fucking nightmare. Can’t we just talk?’
Ashley shook her head. ‘No, we can’t just talk, because the minute I mention that brat boyfriend—sorry, husband—of yours, you turn into a twat. He’s dangerous, and you’re blinded by him, Jules. He’s changed you into this egomaniac, and I don’t like it one bit.’
I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t right. Yes, I did get defensive when someone, anyone, spoke of Matthew in a negative way. But is that not typical in a partnership, a marriage? Yes, Matt was the most dangerous person I knew. Yes, I was blinded by him, but Ashley didn’t realise she was as equally blinded by me. I almost felt sorry for her, how she could apparently sense Matt’s darkness after only a handful of times meeting him, and yet have no idea about the one that had resided in me since the moment I was born.
‘This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been,’ I said. ‘And don’t call Matt a brat. You’ve never given him a chance, you don’t know him.’
‘Do you see what I mean? This is what you always do. You ask questions you don’t want the answers to. You came here to confront me, but you can’t stand it when I confront you back. There’s something wrong with Matt, Jules, and I’m scared. I hate thinking that one morning I’ll wake up to the news he’s killed you.’
‘Oh for Christ sake, Ashley. Stop being so bloody ridiculous.’
‘I’ve seen your scar. I know it was him.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Stop denying it! The scar on your chest. I know the bar fight was just an excuse, I know when you’re lying about something. Since when do you get in bar fights?’
‘Think what you will,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘Oh, you can deny and deny all you want. I don’t trust him and I never will. You know me, Jules, I’m honest and I’ll never lie to you. You want an answer as to why I wasn’t at your wedding, and that’s my reason. I refuse to celebrate someone I detest.’
‘I never liked your ex-husband either, you know.’
‘And what? What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Well, I was still at your wedding, was I not?’
Ashley went quiet. I straightened up from leaning against the stair railings and cleared my throat to announce I would be leaving. We weren’t getting anywhere, and we never would—Ashley would be hateful until I changed my mind and left Matt, and I would never leave him, and he would never leave me, because we would kill each other before either of us got the chance. What more could I say to her? I knew exactly who Matt was, and I did not care. I was not in danger, I was a part of the danger.
‘I’m leaving,’ I said. ‘Thanks for the card, sis. I’ll leave it here, if you don’t mind.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
I left the card on the stairs and turned to leave anyway.
Ashley said, ‘Has anyone bought that house for sale by you yet?’ The question was completely out of the blue.
‘What? Why?’
‘Just answer the damn question.’
‘Yes, I think so. I saw a sold sign a couple days ago… Why? You want to be neighbours now?’
‘Funny,’ she said.
‘How did you know it was up for sale?’
‘I saw the listing online. Is that a crime?’
‘Goodbye, Ash.’
I closed her front door behind me before she could say anything else, knowing she wouldn’t go out of her way because that would be showing weakness, and she was the most headstrong woman I’d ever known, closely followed by Catherine. My old colleague, my best friend. The best friend who caught Matt and I in the office at work and paid for it in death. My wishes were Matt’s commands, after all, and he loved having a reason to get his knife wet.
I arrived home after dark, just in time for dinner. Matt cooked despite his broken wrist—the result of a drunken stumble in Greece. We spoke about our days over wine: I told him about what happened at Ashley’s; he told me about the moving vans at Graham’s old house that I missed during the day. According to Matt, they were full of just stunning shabby-chic furniture. The house had been up for sale for ages, and despite it being a gorgeous house in a good neighbourhood, it seemed no one wanted it. Matt joked about the house being a bad omen, haunted by the memories of Graham’s extracurricular ventures with underage boys.
We finished dinner and I washed up, while Matt continued talking about the furniture. He was fidgeting with energy the way he did when he wanted to say something that would disrupt the atmosphere of easy domesticity. I raised my eyebrows as if to say, come on then, what is it?
Matt said he met the people who bought the house while I was out. It was a couple and their teenage son, and he went over to say hi and welcome them to the street like the noble young man he loved to pretend he was. The couple’s names were Lara and Melissa, their son was called Tyler, and Matt said living so close to him was going to be a problem for me. You’re probably wondering what he meant by that, or perhaps you see exactly where this is going.
‘What do you mean?’ I said.
Matt smirked. ‘You’ll see.’
On my way to work the next morning, I drove past the house as I always did, and I immediately understood what Matt was talking about the night before. The kid was beautiful. Muddy brown hair, glassy blue eyes, that invincible energy often found in teenagers. From that second, I knew he’d have a magnetic smile, soft hands, a bright and inquisitive mind. I knew he’d set my world on fire, and I would gladly walk through it. It was like seeing a ghost, an intense Deja Vu—he was leaving for school, and in his green and gold uniform he looked exactly like Will did at that age.
Hedone – J.C. Morgan
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