Beautiful Mess (Sinners High book 1)

by Melody Adams

  I felt dull as the head end of the bed slowly lowered until I lay horizontal again. A wonderful numbness washed over me. Part of me knew that they had given me something to calm me down and that the numbness was not natural. The pain would come back when the effects wore off. But I didn't care about that at the moment. I welcomed the calm of my thoughts. The peace granted to me for a short time. I was sleepy and yawned. Then my eyes closed.

  Kent

  I paced up and down the waiting room like a tiger in a cage. Since I learned five days ago that Abby cut her wrists, I had been in the hospital almost non-stop. They didn’t allow me to visit her because I was not a relative. This did not stop me from standing guard here until I finally received the relieving news that she had woken up from her coma.

  "Kent, at least sit down for a few minutes," said Seth, who sat in a chair by the door. "You make me dizzy with all the running. And you could really use a shower, bro. You stink. It's a wonder nobody's kicked you out yet."

  "Fuck you, Seth," I growled without pausing in pacing. "She tried to fucking kill herself! And it's all my fault. I did this to her. I..."

  "It's Bethany's fault," Seth cut in. "The fucking bitch copied the video."

  "Yeah, but if I hadn't been in on this sick plan to break Abby, there wouldn't have been any damn video," I growled, pausing to change direction. "That doesn't make it better, nor does it undo things."

  "No one knew Beth's accusations against Abby were lies, Kent. We all believed her." Seth shook his head. "I never thought the Queen Bee would cut her own face just to accuse Abby."

  "Still," I insisted. "I knew how unstable Abby is. I knew about the scars. Damnit! I should have known what our actions would drive her to. Even IF she were guilty, that does not justify us playing with her life!"

  "You're right. We fucked up. Big time. But we cannot undo it."

  The door opened and Abby's aunt came into the waiting room. Her eyes fell on Seth, then on me. Tears gleamed in her eyes and my heart seized in panic. I shook my head. No, no, no! Please, don't let it be true. Please don't tell me that Abby...

  "She woke up," Mrs. Duncan brought out in a choked voice.

  "W-what? She... she's awake? How is...?"

  "She woke up, but she became hysterical and the doctor had to sedate her. She's asleep now."

  My heart pounded hard in my chest. She woke up. That meant she was going to be okay, didn't it? But she had been hysterical. And it was my doing. What was I even doing here? What was I waiting for? For her to tell me she wanted to see me? After everything I'd done to her? How could I ever wish for redemption? I didn’t deserve redemption. What I had done was unforgivable. Me being here would only upset her again. I was poison. She might have been the one who put the blade to her skin, but it was ME who pushed her to.

  "I... I must...," I stammered, then I stormed out of the room.

  Ignoring Seth’ shouts, I fled the hospital. I ran and ran, not realizing where I was or how much time past. I just put one foot in front of the other. It started to rain, but I did not stop. I kept running. My tears mixed with the rain. I could not get rid of the guilt, no matter how fast I ran. I would never be able to shake it off. No matter how I turned the circumstances around. It was my fault Abby lay in the hospital. That she didn't want to live anymore. I’d messed everything up. And I would never be able to fix it. No remorse, no atonement, no apology in this world would repair the damage I had caused. I wasn't the one who found her after she slit her wrists. I had not seen it, but in my head I saw the girl I loved more than anything else lying motionless in her own blood. Her skin pale, waxy. Her eyes closed while the blood ran in a steady stream from her cut open arms. I laid my head back and uttered a loud, tormented scream.

  Chapter 18

  Abby

  I stared at the mint green wall in my room. I had been in the facility for three days. It was not as I imagined it would be. The rooms didn’t look like hospital rooms. More like hotel rooms. Everything was comfortably furnished in soft colors. The nurses were all nice, as were the therapists. I could not complain. But it was hard for me to come to terms with the fact that I was in a fucking insane asylum. I had several therapies a day. In a few minutes, one of the orderlies would pick me up to take me to the music therapy. This was actually a therapy that I liked. I didn't have to talk, nobody asked me questions. I just had to lie there, let the music work on me, and let the therapist's voice lull me into a peaceful state of mind. The sound of the sea or other sounds of nature usually accompanied the soft music. It transported me to another place. Somewhere tranquil, where the pain did not exist.

  There was a knock at the door.

  "Yes!"

  The door opened and Jerome, one of the orderlies, peered into my room.

  "Are you ready, sweetheart?"

  "Yes, I'm coming," I replied and got up from my bed.

  Jerome was only a few years older than me and quite attractive. I suspected he was into me, even though he flirted with all the female patients, even the old ladies. It was just his way. But the yearning expression in his eyes when he looked at me was absent with the other patients. I wish I could return his interest. He was a sweet, nice guy. The exact opposite of a certain bad boy. But it was the dark eyes of the bad boy haunting me day and night. Even after all he’d done to me, I couldn't forget him, I couldn't banish him from my head or my heart. I had to be really masochistic. Why him, of all people? Why did I have to react to him like that? He’d used me. Kent was a devil in a sexy package. He didn’t deserve that I wasted even a second, even a fleeting thought on him.

  Damn you, Kent! I hate you! I hate you so much!

  If only I could believe my own words.

  Kent

  The time without Abby was pure torture. At first I’d taken refuge in alcohol and fights until I ended up in hospital for several days after a fight. The guys had been grilling me afterwards and somehow they managed to get me out of my dark hole. I drank less and did not fight anymore, but – fuck – I missed my girl. I wanted to explain so many things to her. Beg her for forgiveness. But she was in therapy, and only her aunt was allowed to visit her once a week. I’d tried to get my way into the clinic through bribery and threats, but without success. The weeks passed by and I was ready for the loony bin myself. What if she would never forgive me? What if I had lost her forever? The idea was so horrible that I hastily put it aside. No. I had to make her listen to me. I had to earn her forgiveness. If I had to, on my knees. I was willing to do anything if she would just give us a second chance. That was all I needed. I would never screw it up again. I would make it my mission to make her happy.

  "You still there, dude?" Gregory interrupted my thoughts.

  I turned my head and stared at my friend.

  "Not that I'm complaining that you let me win," he said. "...but it gets a little boring."

  My gaze went to the X-Box controller in my hand. Gregory and I had played FIFA and I must have zoomed out in the middle of it. I threw the controller on the couch next to me and ran my hand through my hair.

  "Sorry, dawg. I'm... I was..."

  "Yeah, yeah, I know. Abby. Man, you can't stop living. She's in good hands. And when she comes back, she's gonna be better than ever. That's good, man."

  "She'll never forgive me," I replied in frustration. "I fucked everything up."

  "You don't know that. Why think about the worst now, if it hasn't happened yet. You'll apologize and explain everything – maybe with flowers and chocolate and all that stuff girls always want us to do." Gregory scratched his chin. "She'll probably want to see you on your knees, man. Women like that when you have to grovel. They get off on that shit. Shed a few tears if you can. Always works wonders. Chicks think it's cute when a guy shows emotion and cries a little. – Just not too much, man. You don't want to look like a total pussy."

  "Who made you an expert on women?" I snorted.

  Gregory shrugged.

  "Three sisters. Need I say more?"

  Abby<
br />
  "What makes you think you don't deserve otherwise?"

  "Because... because... There's something really wrong with me. When... when the boys... when they..."

  "Raped you?" Mr. Connor helped.

  I nodded, then I shook my head. I looked at him with tears in my eyes.

  "Was... was it really rape if... if..."

  "If what, Abby? What makes you think it wasn't rape?"

  "Because... because..."

  The words didn’t want to come out. I was ashamed. I was so ashamed that I avoided Mr. Connor's gaze and stared at my hands. My scars itched. Unconsciously I started to scratch, but Mr. Connor put one hand over mine and stopped me. My gaze went to him again. He shook his head. I put my hand back in my lap, but the urge to scratch my scars drove me crazy.

  "Abby!"

  I whimpered, letting my gaze go back and forth. I felt as if I had an entire colony of ants under my skin, and the dark clouds closed in again.

  "Abby, look at me!"

  Mr. Connor rarely used authority in his voice, but when he did, like now, I could not help but obey. My eyes jumped to him. His gaze was friendly and understanding, but also firm.

  "Breathe, Abby. In and out. In and out. That's it. In and out."

  The clouds cleared, and the itching subsided a little as I followed Mr. Connor's instructions.

  "Back to the subject, Abby. This is important. Answer my question. Why do you think it wasn't rape?"

  "Because... because I..." I was sobbing desperately. "I can't..."

  "Because you felt pleasure? Is that it, Abby? Did you feel pleasure when the boys took advantage of you?"

  I burst out sobbing when the shame came over me like an avalanche. I wrapped my arms around my middle and rocked back and forth as the clouds reappeared on the horizon.

  "Did you want the boys to do these things to you?"

  "No!" I sobbed.

  "And did you tell them you didn't want these things?"

  "Yes. But they..."

  "Abby!" said Mr. Connor sternly. "You listen to me very carefully, okay? – If a boy, or a man, does things to you, you don't want, and you have explicitly said that you don't want it, then it is rape! It doesn't matter if you felt pleasure."

  I looked at Mr. Connor, tears blinking away. I tried to internalize what he had just said.

  "But... why... what is... wrong with me that... that I...?"

  "You think there's something wrong with you because your body responded to stimulation?"

  I nodded.

  "There's nothing wrong with you, Abby. Our body can respond to stimulation against our will. This happens more often than you think. How else do you think it's possible for a woman to rape a man?" Mr. Connor paused, stroking through his gray hair. "In most cases, a rapist uses violence to penetrate the body of his unwilling victim. Such an act of violence rarely arouses the victim's lust. However, some rapists stimulate their victim before they take advantage of him or her. This can have various reasons. Some rapists experience an extra thrill if they can make their victim feel pleasure against their will. It is a way of exercising dominance. Others try to justify their act by making their victim feel pleasure. According to the motto: She wanted it, after all. She did enjoy it." He looked at me very intensely. "But that's not true, Abby, and you need to understand that. Whether or not he wrested an orgasm from you... It was still rape. It was an act of violence that violated your rights as a woman and as a human being in the worst possible way. Your rapists are to blame. – Not YOU! There is no scenario in which a victim is guilty. All these accusations that victims in the courtroom have to hear: Her skirt was too short. She was flirting. She went along voluntarily. She shouldn't have been walking the streets alone at night." Mr. Connor shook his head. "None of these are excuses. Even, if you go home with a guy and allow him to touch you and kiss you. The moment you say NO, it means NO! It means the guy has to accept it. I am a man. Believe me when I tell you that a man can stop no matter how aroused he is. Whether or not he has an erection. Yes, it is unpleasant, in some cases even painful, if a man cannot release the pressure. But it is no excuse to force yourself on an unwilling woman. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

  I nodded.

  "It was... not my fault."

  Mr. Connor nodded.

  "That's right, Abby. It was never your fault."

  I wiped tears from my face and took a deep breath. It felt as if someone had taken a heavy weight off my shoulders.

  "I think that's enough for today, Abby. I'll see you in the morning."

  "Thank you, Mr. Connor. I, uh... I suddenly feel much – much lighter."

  Mr. Connor smiled.

  "I'm glad. We still have a long way to go, but you are making progress. One day the dark clouds will disappear and you will enjoy your life. You are so young, Abby. You still have a whole life ahead of you. And you can find happiness. You just have to let it into your life. Everything we do has consequences. It depends on the choices we make. And I will teach you to make the right ones."

  "Relax, Abby," said Mr. Connor, my therapist. "Close your eyes and go to your special place. Picture it in your mind. – Can you see it?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. Listen to the sounds of nature. Breathe the scents deeply and feel the effect of your special place. How you relax more and more. You are safe here. No matter what happens. You are safe and you are happy."

  The warm sand beneath me crunches softly when I move a little. The sound of the waves soothes me. I can smell the salt in the air. Feel the wind on my skin...

  "I want you to go back to that night in the cellar. You're not really there. You're just an observer. What do you see?"

  Darkness surrounds me. Panic grips my heart with icy claws. I am terrified. The darkness. Such fear...

  "Remember, Abby, your body and soul are in a safe place. Don't be afraid of the dark. Take in the scene and tell me what you see."

  I sit on the floor with my knees bent and my arms wrapped around it. I rock back and forth. Back and forth. I mumble to myself...

  "What is it you mutter to yourself?"

  I don't know what I'm saying. But I say it over and over again...

  "Your hearing is better than you think. Listen carefully. What is it you're saying?"

  "Daddy. I'm sorry, Daddy. Daddy. I didn't mean to do that. Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. Daddy..."

  Guilt! It's my fault! I'm bad! I deserve to be punished.

  "Daddy. I'm sorry. Daddy. I didn't mean for this to happen. Daddy. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean it. Daddy. I'm so sorry..."

  "It's okay, Abby. I want you to leave the basement. You're back in your special place. The horrors of the basement no longer have any hold on you. You are safe. Warm. Enjoy the peace and come back to me when you're ready."

  I lie on the warm sand, hear the waves crashing. The sun shines warm on my skin. A few seagulls screech in the distance. The breeze sends a cool breeze over my warm skin.

  "I want you to go back to your childhood. At a time when you still lived in Sinners Field. When your father was alive. What do you see?"

  I'm lying in bed. Holding Brownie tight. I hear footsteps in the hall. They approach my room. My door opens and someone comes into my room. My heart beats faster and fear is closing my throat. Has Dad come to take me home? Or is it a burglar?

  "Take a deep breath in and out. You're not really there. – There you go. Now tell me what you see. Where are you? It's obviously not your home. Is it your dad who walks into the room?"

  I'm at aunt Claire and uncle Dan's house. The man who comes into my room is not dad. It's Uncle Dan. He's hurting me. The same way Dad hurts me sometimes. He says Daddy wants me to be good to him. It hurts so bad. More than Daddy hurts me. When I scream, he puts his big hand on my mouth and I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't...

  "Come back, Abby! Leave the place and come back to your safe place. No one can hurt you here. You are safe. Your uncle can't hu
rt you anymore. Breathe. Breathe in. Out. In. Out."

  Soft music comes from somewhere as I lie on the warm sand. Not far from me, a crab is crawling across the sand. The waves are stronger today and the sky is less blue. I am not as calm in my place as usual. I know why. The dreams. They are back.

  "I know you are restless. Abby. But you must trust me when I tell you that nothing bad can reach you in your place. The bad dreams are a message we need to crack. Once we do, we can work on making them disappear forever. I want you to let the dream come. Don't be afraid of it. It's just a dream. Nothing can reach you. Nothing and nobody can hurt you. I would never let that happen. Trust me, Abby."