Free Rebel With A Cause by Ashleigh Neame Page A

explosion. With grunts, moans and lots and lots of sweat, all the confusing feelings that they had been harbouring these past few weeks had gone, washed away or sweated out.
    Finally, after five rounds in which they’d both run dry, they fell asleep, each curled up in the others embrace, both content with the way their lives were headed.

 
 
 
 
Chapter 8
     
    Once upon a time there was a cheeky, sports-mad young boy. He had dark hair and coffee eyes, just like his father. The only thing he had inherited from his mother was her light skin. His father’s Māori heritage did not show through.
    This young boy particularly loved soccer, despite his father’s insistence that rugby was a superior sport. The young boy practiced every day , and he was getting quite good.
    His favourite trick was bouncing the ball on one knee, and seeing how long he could keep it in the air. He had almost mastered it.
    “Dad! Look!” he cried . He was in the back yard with his cousin, showing of his skills. His father was at the barbeque, grilling the hamburger patties and chatting to his uncle , and his mother was chatting with his Aunty.
    “Yeah, I’ll be there in a second, son,” his father called back, barely even looking his way. The young boy noticed and dropped the ball, a deep frown etched onto his face.
     
    Carter woke with a start. It had been years since he’d dreamed about his parents. Usually he’d been able to forget, but going back to the Overlook last night had awakened all of his old anger towards his parents.
    Kaitlyn stirred in his arms, and he looked down at her, expressionless. He loved her, and she was too good for him. He needed to set her free. He didn’t want to lose the only good thing in his life right now , but she deserved better.
    “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better than me.”
    As if sensing his distress, Kaitlyn stirred gently. “Carter,” she murmured. She sounded as if she was in pain. “Please,” she begged.
    Carter fiercely hugged her to his side and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. He hated himself for what he was about to do, but he knew that he was going to do it anyway.
    He allowed himself one more moment of content ment before he did a selfish thing – he left her.
    He got up, pulled yesterday’s jeans on and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from by the phone and scribbled a note to Kaitlyn. He hesitated, but knew – or at least he hoped – that he was doing the right thing.
    He left the note on the kitchen bench and stared at it a minute. He was throwing away the one good thing that had ever happened to him, but he knew he couldn’t stay with her. He was damaged goods, and he would corrupt her, poison her even, if he hadn’t already.
    He turned away and grabbed his keys off the hook in the kitchen then went into the laundry. He pulled a fresh singlet and hoodie out of the dryer and threw them on then ran out of the house. He couldn’t stand to be in there one more minute, not with Kaitlyn still asleep in his bed. He couldn’t face her, not yet.
     
    Carter wasn’t there when Kaitlyn woke up.
    She’d woken up about an hour and a half after he left, only to find that his side of the bed was cold. She wrapped the top sheet around her body and climbed out of bed.
    “Carter?” she called. “Where are you?”
    There was no answer, and only then did Kaitlyn realise how quiet the house was. There was no chatter of the TV, which Carter would be watching if he were home. There were no taps dripping, and no sounds of life. The only thing she could hear was the low hum of the refrigerator. Her stomach clenched uneasily and she hurried to the bathroom.
    After expelling the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl, she went into the kitchen for a glass of water, to wash the acrid taste out of her mouth. It was then when she came across Carter’s letter.
    Kaitlyn, it read, I’m sorry. I need you to pack your stuff and