‘Rose,’ Clara interjected in between sobs, ‘please can you come and meet me? I didn’t know who else to call. I’m sorry.’
‘Of course,’ she said, looking around the floor for her keys. ‘Send me your location and I’ll be there as quickly as I can.’
Rose had to double-check she had the right address. She was standing outside a bagel shop on Brick Lane with strip lighting. The Uber had taken forty-three minutes and cost £25, which was probably more than usual because it was 11.30 p.m. Despite the strange hour, there was a long queue outside the shop, mostly of lone bagel thrill-seekers, and a few gaggles of tipsy teens. Rose walked straight inside. Huddled in the corner underneath a not so inconspicuous pale pink fluffy hat and a matching jacket was Clara. All the external signs pointed to her identity, but when she lifted her face up to meet Rose’s, it was clear that the person in front of her was only half there. Her eyes were sagging, her face entirely drained of life.
It didn’t feel right to hug her. Rose sat down in the chair opposite and placed her hand on top of hers.
‘Hey,’ she whispered.
‘Hey. Thank you for coming. It’s one of the only places that stays open all night.’
‘That’s okay. You know, I love bagels. Such an underrated baked good.’
‘They really are,’ Clara replied, rubbing her eyes.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
Clara sighed. ‘I do. I’m just …’ She paused.
‘It’s okay. Take a deep breath. I get like this too sometimes when I’m upset. It’s like the air is full of smog.’
Clara nodded, putting her hand on her chest and trying to breathe gently.
‘So, we had an argument,’ she began, looking at their hands.
‘Did he hit you, Clara?’
‘No. I actually think what happened was worse.’
‘You can tell me. I won’t judge you.’
‘We were arguing. I can’t even remember how it started. But he was accusing me of cheating on him again. I tried to tell him I never had. He was levelling insults at my career, telling me it was pathetic I made my living off photos of myself. Normally, when he goes on these rants, I just try to sit there and take it until he calms down. But this time I didn’t. I made the mistake of bringing up his drinking. And that sparked something in him. I can’t even remember what he said but he was screaming in my face. I ran into the bedroom and tried to lock the door. But it’s one of those newbuild flats where you can quite easily unlock any door from the outside. Anyway, he got inside. He was shouting at me, telling me to stop crying. Calling me a baby. I just got into bed. But then he ripped the duvet off and grabbed me, bringing my body in to his.’ Clara’s hands held on to her arms to mimic his movements. ‘It was like he was trying to soothe me, I guess? Like he suddenly felt guilty or something. So he held me, really tightly so that I couldn’t move. I don’t really remember how it happened but something about being constricted, or … I don’t know. It was like my body went into a rage blackout. Something switched inside me and I just … it was like I was caged. And I needed to get free. And then …’ She had started to cry again.
‘What happened, Clara?’
‘I hit him,’ she whispered. ‘On the arm. After he’d let me go. I think I was trying to push him away and then I was just hitting his fucking arm, scratching him. Oh God.’
‘Once?’
‘No. I don’t know. I think a few times. I left a mark.’
‘Oh.’
‘I know.’
‘What did he do?’
‘I can’t really remember. It was like my body and brain went somewhere else for those few seconds. Then I realised what I was doing and just, I don’t know, kept crying and crying until it hurt too much to keep going.’
‘Where is he?’
‘At the flat, I think. He keeps sending me photos of the marks on his arm. He’s threatening to post them online. Oh God.’
Rose didn’t know what else to say. She just kept squeezing Clara’s hand, holding on to it tightly while she cried.
‘Do you feel like you can walk away from this?’ Rose finally asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The relationship. Do you think this might be the thing that helps you recognise it’s time to end it? For good?’
Clara sighed. ‘Yes. Probably. I don’t know. It’s not that simple.’
‘I’m sure it isn’t. But, Clara, fucking hell. This isn’t okay for either of you. Something has to change.’
‘What if he’s been right this whole time, Rose?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, looking at it objectively. He has never hurt me.’
‘Physically, maybe not. But Clara—’
‘I have hurt him …’ She had gone into action mode, her voice firmer and more authoritative. ‘He has an actual physical mark, Rose, something to show for the pain I’ve caused him. He has evidence. Something substantial to show to someone who will immediately be saying, “Oh fuck, your girlfriend is a fucking lunatic, mate.” I have memories, which means I have nothing.’
Rose looked at Clara’s painfully thin hands, those tiny, childlike wrists.
‘I’m not sure you’re capable of physically harming someone three times your size.’
