This story is not recommended for children.

I’m awake for a whole thirty seconds before I remember the sadness. It hits me like vertigo all over again. I can feel my heart as if someone’s pulled it down into my stomach as the grief comes flooding back, almost physical enough to take my breath away. It’s an effort even to breathe. I lay on the same bed that’s been my world for the last three nights and I swear I can feel it rocking. Am I on a ship? If I were, I’d pray for it to sink.

I wonder what Ray’s doing now. I wonder if he’s thinking of me. He must be. He couldn’t just stop thinking about me like he was turning off a switch. Even if he’s decided I’m not the love of his life, he won’t have forgotten about me. Not so soon, so completely. I close my eyes and try to focus on the feel of him, pinpointing his aura, trying to form some sort of telepathic bridge between us. If I could just make him see for one instant. If he could just experience how much love I have for him. All of this wouldn’t matter any more.

For a moment it feels as if I can sense him out there in the ether. I can almost smell him. I’m a beacon of love, broadcasting my message for an audience of one. Every part of me is channelling that one vital message. It’s as if he’s just on the other side of a dream… Perhaps he notices. I see his face so clearly it’s like he’s there. “Ray - I miss you!” And then I spoil it. I move, instinctively reaching out my hand. The room snaps back into focus and I’m crying again.

Surely, it’s not going to be like this forever, is it? Please tell me this isn’t what the rest of my life is going to feel like. He’s made a mistake, that’s all. All I need to do is get back to him and he’ll understand. Forget that crap that Fasbuck was trying to tell me. He probably put Ray up to it anyway.

But even as I say the words to myself, I know that they’re not true. I don’t want to admit it, but sooner or later I’m going to have to face up to the fact that I’m on my own. A world without Ray? Is that even possible? What could I do? I try to think of a place I’ve visited without him. I try to think of a club I’ve been to. I try to think of… Damn it!

Damn it!

Ray!

Is there any part of my life that hasn’t revolved around you?

Everything I’ve done. Every thought I’ve had. Everything I’ve ever eaten. Everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s all been about you! It’s all I am! Why couldn’t I have told you that? Why couldn’t I find the words to make you see?

I open my eyes and I’m staring at the black floor tiles. I must have slipped to the floor at some point. My reflection looks back at me in the little puddle I’ve made. I sniff, hard. Almost choking on it. At least my legs are working now. When I don’t think of Ray, that is.

I take a deep breath and try to let the shaking pass. I try to think of something happier, but the memory that surfaces is all about Ray. It’s no great surprise though, is it?

An image of a van. It’s Ray’s van. Some time ago. But how long? Was it last year? Perhaps it was two years ago. This is a memory from when we were first starting out. This was where…

Flowers.

He brought me flowers. I remember the smell of them, and that scent opens up the rest for me, as if the little blooms are a way in to that world and everything unfolds from their point in space. The cool feel of the delicate stems. The subtle colour against… I can’t remember. I focus on the image of the flowers in my mind, and see them in my hand.

Dzvonyky. Little blossoms, trembling on their stems. The colour of spring. As a child I’d seen woods full of them, but there in my hand; no flower ever looked brighter. I watched Ray and inhaled the sweet scent again. No. That’s not true. I didn’t just watch him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. At some point he reached for me. We were sat in his van, looking out over a green field.

No. It was a country park. I remember now. We had been walking in a country park, and he had stopped to pick the bluebells. We’d planned to go for a little walk together, but something had happened.

In his van, he put his hand out to me and I felt his warm fingers on the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and let him bring me closer to him. And that’s when we kissed for the first time. That was the moment. And my face was soaked when his hair -

It had been raining. That was it!

There had been a cloudburst, and the deluge had sent us back to the van, laughing and running together. Both of us trying to cover ourselves in the folds of his leather jacket as the puddles appeared on the grey tarmac.

And I still had my bluebells. They were still pinned by my thumb as I ran my fingers down the back of the tight curls on his head. I still grasped them tightly as his tongue found the warm skin behind my ear to make me gasp and shudder. I had them even as he drew back to let me grip his jacket and pull it from his shoulder, and I still had them as he undid the first of the buttons on my blouse.

And that’s when I said it. Deadly serious. Clear and measured. Making sure he understood exactly what I was saying. “Ray. I know you think I’m just a kid, but I’m serious about this. I’ve done a lot of thinking and I want you to know that I love you. I’m not just talking about a crush. I mean I’d walk into traffic for you.”

And then I saw the colour rise in his cheeks. Despite his deep brown skin, I saw him blush and knew, I just knew, that he felt the same way.

Woosh!

The room returns again. I’m suddenly back in the basement of Fasbuck’s place trying desperately to cling to the image that’s already fading beyond repair.

The memory drains away and leaves me hollow as the real world rolls back into place. The scent of this room is papery and lifeless. The smell of libraries mixed with stale sweat.

What he hell am I going to do? Where am I going to live? I haven’t even thought of that until now. That said, it’s only a fleeting concern. To tell you the truth I don’t really care. Right now I’ve got more pressing things to worry about, namely the Ray shaped hole in my life that I keep falling into. I’d built everything around him and now…

Pull yourself together! Why do I have to be so weak about this? I feel almost as angry at myself as I do at Ray. Why do I have to fall apart like this? I should be stronger. It’s not as if I enjoy feeling pain.

But the idea of letting it all go. The thought of just shrugging my shoulders and getting on with the rest of my life. It makes me feel sick. In my mind’s eye I can see all the days of my future stretching out like a line of empty rooms, and every single, miserable one of them will be without him. An endless repetition of hollowness. What’s to pull myself together for? Why make an effort? Once I’ve let him go, what will be left of what I was before?

There must have been a time when I didn’t feel this way. There must have been a day in my life before I met him. But when was it? What could I have done that would have made it different? If I could go back, would I have warned myself against him? Protected myself from his pain?

Fuck, it hurts! Even breathing hurts. I miss him like oxygen.

I need to try to get my head together. I need to sort out the memories and find something that I can call my own. Something from before that first time. But when was that first time? At what point did I stop being an island? I try to look back on my life but he’s all I can see. Is that normal? Perhaps. A couple of days ago he was the only future I could imagine, so why should I have been so worried that he was the only part of the past I cared to remember?

I don’t want to believe Fasbuck. I don’t want to accept that this deep love I feel is just the result of biokinetic tinkering. But if the things Fasbuck has said really are lies then I should be able to remember a time when Ray wasn’t my Alpha and Omega. If the memories of him are just plain old stored experiences, I should at least be able to remember what life was like without him. How long have we been together? I take the transit van as my point of reference, and think back to the country park.

How had we got there? I mean, it’s obvious that we’d driven there in his van, but why were we there? And why that particular country park? I play it all back in reverse like an old fashioned video. Making love. The van, getting caught in the rain, walking through the park, getting the bluebells… And then? What before that?

I want to break something. I want to smash up this fucking room. Why am I playing these stupid games with myself when all I want to do is get out of here and make Ray see what he’s throwing away? I want my studphone back online, and I want to be as far away from Fasbuck as physically possible. This is all so stupid! I jump down from the bed and look around for a chair, or for anything that I can smash against the door. Is that why this room is so bare? Even the cupboards are empty, as far as I can tell. At least the ones that aren’t locked.

I settle for kicking at the door with my bare heels instead. Not as dramatic as smashing timber, but at least it makes a decent noise. “Hey, Fasbuck!” I yell. “Open this fucking door and let me out of here!”

See? I’m a simple girl. I have few needs. Just liberty, oxygen, and a gorgeous black sex bomb by the name of Ray Fey.

When my legs get tired I switch to my fists. Ten minutes after that I’ve given up and I’m sobbing myself to sleep at the base of the door like a novelty draught excluder.

But it’s no use. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see him. I’m in a bad way. Actually, that’s not true. I’m not just in a bad way; I’m a fucking mess. I have to think! I was supposed to be coming up with a plan of escape, not wallowing in self pity. How the hell am I going to get away from Fasbuck?

And that’s how it is. I can’t say how much time passes, but I spend it in a haze of turmoil with the very real pain of heartbreak expanding within me like crash foam. At some point I manage to find a way to distract myself from it, and I sleep soundly at last.

“Billy? Wake up you stupid tart! What the hell have you been playing at?” Fasbuck is shrill. In my dream he’s a washerwoman from a children’s story, chasing mice with a mop.

“BILLY!”

I wake up and see the blood. I hadn’t realised it would make so much mess. Oh, fuck. It’s all over. Fasbuck pushes against the door, which I’m blocking, and I shuffle out of the way. There’s blood on the door, too. I wish I’d not let that happen. If I’d been more careful he wouldn’t have seen. Now he’s going to be even more pissed about things.

His hair is like cobwebs in an abandoned attic, and his lips pull back in disgust to reveal teeth that are horsey huge and stained brown. “What the hell have you done? Show me your arm.”

I don’t want to, but he snatches it anyway. He looks at the mess on my forearm and I see his lip curl even further, as if he’s giving birth to mutant dentures. My arm isn’t much prettier, though. Cruel, dark trenches cross randomly, traced in deep red, separated by white strips of skin in geometric shapes. Eat your heart out, Magdalene.

“Oh, for God’s sake. You stupid bloody child! What did you hope to gain from that?”

He doesn’t get it.. I could try to explain, but what’s the use. He only sees the scars. He doesn’t realise just how much pain it took away to make those little cuts He hasn’t got a clue, and why should he? How could a filthy prick like Fasbuck ever get his head around the idea that some pains hurt a damn site less than others?

“What did you use?” He demands. I don’t want to talk about it, but it doesn’t take long for him to spot the small corner of floor tile in the sticky puddle on the floor.

He pulls me to my feet and I yelp against the pain. “Don’t tell me it hurts!” His tone is incredulous. “You can’t do that shit to yourself and then expect me to worry about hurting you.”

He drags me to the bed and I sit looking at my knees. Then he busies himself with antiseptic and bandages, tutting and sighing to himself every time I wince. “I’d like to say I hope it hurts.” He mutters. “But since you obviously enjoy pain, you fucking freak…”

“Sorry.” I murmur. I still hate being naked with him in the room, but I’m sort of getting used to it. If that’s possible.

“What ever.” He spits.

I take a chance. All it takes is a deep breath and then the words are out. “Will you let me go?” I look at him and feel my heart race as the anticipation grips.

He looks at me with fresh contempt. “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? I fucking own you. I’m not about to let you walk out of here when you’ve cost me so much already.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” I already don’t want to know the answer. No matter what he’s got planned for me I’m not sure it could make me feel worse. But not knowing… I find myself wondering how far I would go to buy my way out of here. I look at him, trying hard not to let my loathing show. Could I bring myself to offer to sleep with him? Is that what it would take? Would Ray understand that I’d done it for him?

“How many more times?” Fasbuck rests the bandage scissors, turning his full attention to me. “There’s a procedure. Surgical. It involves fractal keys in the base of your skull. All I have to do is hook you up to the right data and you get a new set of memories. Brand new skills, too. Think of it as a fresh start.”

“But it’s…” I can’t think of the word. Somehow “barbaric” doesn’t sum up just how nefarious the whole idea seems. “These are my thoughts. This is my head. You can’t just take them! You’ll kill me.”

He shrugs. Here I am, begging for my life and he fucking shrugs like I’m asking for a rise. “That’s a tad overdramatic. Think of it as a fresh start. Best of all you’ll have no recollection of Ray, or the shitty way he’s treated you. How many rejected lovers get that opportunity, eh?”

I consider what he’s said, but only for a heartbeat. He’s got to be kidding. Maybe Ray has been shitty to me, but I love him. And I know that deep down, Ray loves me too. He might not realise it right now, but sooner or later he’s going to miss me. If I let this bastard get away with what he’s planning, what will happen to the love I feel? What chance will we have of being together then?

I shake my head. “But I don’t want to forget him.”

“You’re kidding? All those painful memories? All those nights ahead of you, hugging your pillow and crying over his picture when he’s famous? Do be brief.”

“They’re MY memories!”

“Want to bet?” It stings worse than the antiseptic. “Look. I still think you’re labouring under the mistaken belief that you have some sort of choice in this matter. I’m not waiting for your permission. I’m just waiting for a new client to clear the cost and then you’re getting your head wiped. There’s no discussion required.”

I look at him. It’s all I can do.

“Don’t look so fucking pitiful.” He snaps. “I personally guarantee that by the time I’ve got you up and running again you won’t have a care in the world.” He finishes patching me. “No Poncey dancers to worry about. No broken heart, just a whole new life to look forward to. But don’t go carving yourself up again or I’ll put maggots in the bandage next time.”

And that’s it. He’s going again. Heading for the door and abandoning me once more. A sense of panic rises rapidly and it suddenly seems like the most important thing in the world that I don’t let him go. There must be something I can do. There has to be something he wants. As he walks away I take another deep breath. “Fasbuck. If you let me go I swear you can do anything you like to me.”

He turns back and looks at me slowly. It takes him a long time to talk, and when he does his tone is calm and measured. “You are joking, I hope?”

“I’ll do anything you want. You can have - you can fuck me.” I’m talking fast, letting my mouth run away with me, just listening to the words as they come out. “You can have me for as long as you need. I’ll... I don’t mind. Just let me go.”

“What do you think you could possibly offer me that’s not mine to take already?” Fasbuck scoffs. “You pathetic creature. A man only wants what he can’t have! Do you think you’ve got a damn thing left to tempt me with? I bought you almost seven years ago, Billy. seven years! I’ve boned you so many times that I can’t even be bothered any more.”

* * *