by Nicole Thorn
“He gets mad,” I said. “Stressed out, I guess. So sometimes, he does stuff to me. Throws me around, hits me...” My hands gripped Becket’s shoulders a little too tight but he didn’t say anything. “Choking.”
I opened my eyes, seeing Becket still watching me. “Why you?”
I shrugged. “Because I’m there, and we don’t have a dog.”
Becket sat up, and I lost my hold on him. He turned around, so that we were facing each other. “Has that been happening for a while?”
“He’s a couple years older than me but I can remember stuff from when we were really little. Small stuff, like shoving me or biting me. The beatings didn’t start until he was about thirteen.”
I watched the boy as he started thinking, and his fingers tapped his thigh. “Do you know why he’s so angry?”
Nodding, I said, “Our parents are... not nice people. My father is very hateful, and sometimes he takes it out on us. He doesn’t hit us. Spankings when we were kids but nothing now. Name calling... whatever. But he gets pissed off and yells at one or all of us. If it’s Mom, then she gets mad and goes after either Lane or me. When Lane gets in trouble... he comes and finds me.”
Becket cocked his head, his brow pinching. “But it doesn’t sound like you’re doing anything to make anyone mad.”
“I do,” I said. “That bruise you saw the other day, I got that because I didn’t defend my brother when Dad got upset with him for not bringing money to the bank. Lane defended me before that, and I didn’t say anything. So, he...” I decided to stop, not giving the details.
“Do your parents know that he does this to you?”
Sighing, I said, “I really don’t know. If they do, then they don’t say anything to me about it. I’m sure they’ve seen the bruises.”
Becket took a slight pause, and then said, “I can kill them all, if you’d like.”
His words didn’t register with me for a moment because... holy fuck. “What?”
He repeated them like it was nothing. “Your family. I can kill them if you want me to.”
“Why?!”
His face changed, his eyebrows raising a little, and a touch of worry in his eyes. “Are you upset with me?”
“No, no, no,” I said, reaching out for him. I put my hand over his. “I’m not at all upset with you. I don’t know why you would want to kill my family.”
“They hurt you.”
“So?”
Becket stared. “If I kill them, then they can’t hurt you anymore.”
I blinked rapidly, wondering how we got to this point. How an innocent boy could offer so casually to murder my family... leaving me all alone in the world. “It’s fine,” I said.
“Oh, you don’t mind that your brother beats you?”
“Of course, I do,” I sputtered. “But I don’t want him dead. He doesn’t deserve that. There are worse things he could be doing to me, and I’m a fuck-up anyway. I’m not going to get better unless I’m reminded of when I screw up.”
Becket didn’t say anything but his head cocked one more time as he watched me. The poor boy didn’t understand anything at all. So damaged. I wished I could have tucked him against me and made it all go away.
“Can we stop talking about it?” I asked. “I don’t like it.”
“We can stop.”
The room went silent, and it felt better. I stole a few seconds with my eyes closed, pretending I was outside on a cold night, looking at the stars. It settled my heart down, and the tension leaked out of my body.
It was time to see if I could go home, mostly because I didn’t want Becket to get in trouble for having me over. It wouldn’t have gone well if I was the reason someone hurt him. And for once, I didn’t think it would be me walking away broken if I went up against his father.
I texted my mom and my brother, asking when they would be home. After a half hour, I got one from my mom, saying they wouldn’t be back until very late, and I needed to turn the heater down. My brother never responded, so I figured he was busy with his friends.
“I’m in trouble,” I said after I’d moved to the couch. Becket sat on the floor but with his back against the couch, and by my legs. “Sort of.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “My house isn’t an option tonight. But that’s fine, I can get a motel room.”
I stood up, and Becket stood with me, getting in front of me. “No, you can stay here. We have a guest room that you are welcome to.”
I smiled nervously. “I don’t want to be any more trouble than I already have been. It’s okay.”
“You’re no trouble.”
“But I ate your food. I don’t want to have to make you wash the bedding after I leave too.”
The boy didn’t move. “It is very little effort on my part.”
“That’s not the point.”
Keys turned, and the front door opened in the other room. My body tensed, and braced for the impact that I knew in my head wasn’t coming. But... there was a father home, and my brain took that to mean it was time for hell. It didn’t help that this father happened to be a bad, bad man.
I moved slightly, putting half of my body in front of Becket as I faced the only entrance into the room. His father walked in, and set aside some kind of briefcase.
“Oh,” he said when he looked up. “Becket, we have a guest?”
He studied me, and I didn’t miss a damn thing. His gaze traveled me, maybe trying to figure out what I was doing here. He could have caught sight of the slight bruises on my arms, or the wrapped cut on my finger. In the end, I couldn’t have guessed what he got out of the look he gave me.
“Manny,” Becket answered. “This is my father, Dr. Anders.”
“Geoffrey,” the man corrected, extending his hand to me and smiling. “Nice to meet you. Becket didn’t tell me he had a friend.”
I stared at the hand in front of me, and fire filled my blood.
How dare he smile, or be polite to me. Of course, he didn’t know I knew what he did to Becket but I hated this lie in his eyes. Playing nice when a stranger was over, so I wouldn’t suspect he was evil.
He hurt Becket. This sweet and broken little boy, abandoned by a woman who should have kept him safe. This man abused his son, and he dared slip a sheep costume over his wolf body.
I wanted to peel the skin off of his body.
“You too,” I lied through my teeth, forcing my hand into his for a shake. If I showed my malevolence, then it would put Becket in danger. Not worth the bite I could take out of his father.
Our hands dropped, and he said, “Have you known Becket long?”
“Of him,” I said. “We’ve gone to the same school since we were little. I think the first time I saw him, he was crawling around in the grass, chasing a ladybug.” I shot the boy a big smile. “He caught her.”
“For a moment,” he responded. “And then she flew right away.”
The father chuckled. “Well, I’m glad that he’s got someone new in his life. Should be good.”
“Oh,” I said, still smiling. “I’m going to be very good for him, I think.”
Daddy Dearest nodded. “Lovely. I hope my boy has been taking care of you. Did he get you something to eat?”
My hands went behind my back as I took a step that got me solidly in front of Becket. “He’s very sweet and attentive. You have a wonderful son, sir.”
The man shot him a shark-like grin. “Thank you.” Looking back to me, he said, “I didn’t see a car outside. Will you be needing a ride home? I’d be more than happy to give you one.”
Alone in a car with him? He would never make it home. “No thank you. I’m actually about to go get a room in a motel. My family is away for the night, and I don’t have my key.”
“A motel? Nonsense. You should stay in our guest room. Much safer for a girl like you.”
A girl like me. A girl like me could blink, and the skin would melt from his body. But... he was being polite right now. Did that
mean Becket was safe as long as I was in the house? Any amount of discomfort on my part was worth the chance.
“Thank you so much, sir,” I said. “That would be very nice.”
X
I could feel it like a pulse in the house, something raw and bleeding. Pain. Old pain in a rotting wound. Broken bones and dried tears. I knew it too well.
I sat up in bed, looking out the window at a dark sky. The silence helped me, and I could ignore the scent of misery that soaked into the wallpaper. I wished I could scrub it clean.
Since I was without pajamas, I sat in a tank top and my underwear, plus thigh high stockings. All black. I wanted to sleep in Becket’s sweater but I didn’t want his father seeing me in it. I wouldn’t give him anything he could use as ammo.
My forehead touched my knees as I wrapped my arms around my legs. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I had what felt like infinite seconds now, and I greedily used every one of them that I could get my hands on.
Something in the hall made the wooden floors creak, and I flinched. The stairs to my bedroom creaked too, and more than a few nights, I’d been woken up with my brother coming down to see me. Sitting on my bed and not saying a word. Only putting his hands around my throat and holding on.
But this was not my bed, and those were not my stairs.
I got up, carefully tiptoeing over to the door. I cracked it open to peer around the corner. Becket shuffled past me, heading down the hall at a slow pace.
“Becket,” I whispered, opening the door a little wider. I remembered that I was in just my underwear but they were like tiny shorts, so it was pretty much okay. I didn’t at all feel unsafe around Becket, so it wasn’t even kind of a worry.
He turned to me, that innocent face shining in the moonlight. “Oh, you’re up. It’s late.”
“It is.” I smiled. “You’re up too, ya know.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
I crossed my arms and bumped my door open even wider. “Wanna come in?”
He did, and I shut the door again. No need to make it easy for his dad to see us. Becket sat on my bed, and I went to sit beside him. I covered my lap with a pillow when I saw all my bruises showing far too clearly.
“Something up?” I asked, turning onto my side to face him.
“Just have problems sleeping sometimes.”
When he shifted around, I saw something I wasn’t prepared for. Every piece of exposed flesh on his arms had little jagged scars speckling him. Not a single one was the same shape, color, or pattern.
I didn’t ask where they came from because I knew.
“Are you tired?” I asked.
“I think so. I can’t seem to fall asleep though. I just lie there. What about you? It’s three in the morning.”
I smiled. “Oh, I’m one of the lucky ones who gets nightmares, and can’t get back to sleep. If I close my eyes, I’ll slip right back into it, and it takes too long for me to stop shaking for it to be worth the sleep.”
“I can’t seem to fall asleep with ease.”
“Don’t you hate those people who pass out right when they lay down?” I giggled.
Flatly, he said, “I don’t hate anybody.”
No, he wouldn’t, would he?
“Do you have things you like to do to pass the time?”
He inhaled, shrugging. “I like to draw. But my father burned all of my sketchbooks and tools, so I don’t do it a lot anymore.”
My chest tightened as my heart broke, and I lost something in me. Barely managing to keep the pain out of my voice, I said, “Why would he do that?”
“He was in the mood to.”
Everything about the statement was so casual, and he didn’t even look hurt by it.
With not a thing I could do to comfort the pain he didn’t have; I got an idea. I turned over, feeling around the floor for my backpack. I got it but not without having to scoot just a little too far out. My legs kicked the air as I tried and failed to find balance. Then Becket grabbed them before I could fall and dragged me onto the bed.
My backpack in my arms. I turned onto my back. My shirt had ridden up quite far, and I was half an inch from traumatizing us both with something he didn’t wanna see. When I sat up, I adjusted myself as I realized my thighs were overlapping Becket’s.
“I have something for you,” I said, digging into my backpack. I pulled out my pen pouch, and then a handful of pens that were every color of the rainbow. The backpack went back onto the floor, and I handed the pens over. “You can draw something cool with these.”
He took them, scrutinizing each one. “These are yours. I wouldn’t want you to be without.”
“Don’t worry about it, I have a ton at home. I like pretty colors,” I said with a smile. “When I was little, I liked to go to the jewelry shop and stare through the glass.” Then the smile faded. “A man worked there, and he let me hold stuff sometimes.”
Becket set the pens on the bed but kept a red one in his hand. “I’d like to draw something.”
After I moved off of him, I sat up on my knees. “Okay... You can use me if you want.”
“To draw on?”
I shrugged. “Sure. I bet you could make something pretty on me.”
He placed me in what would be a good position, and pressed the pen tip to my skin. When he started, the inky smell filled my nose but it wasn’t unpleasant. I giggled when it tickled but Becket didn’t react to me at all. It was like he’d slipped away into another world, and I let him be there.
Becket switched out pens every few minutes or so, and then he got to a big splotchy yellow bruise on my arm. My head lowered, and I apologized for it being in the way.
“It’s not your fault,” he said, as if it were true.
He ran his fingers over it, the colors changing under them. The fade was so slow that I didn’t understand what was happening at first. I watched as the edges closed in, and the yellow turned back into the pale shade of the rest of my skin.
“All gone,” Becket said. “Much more room now.”
I didn’t have it in me to thank him for making it vanish. How could anyone be scared at all of a boy so perfectly kind?
My eyes were getting heavy when he pulled the strap of my tank top aside to add to the drawing that I could barely focus on now. I yawned, and he switched to a blue pen for some kind of monster thing.
“Becket,” I said, my eyes almost unable to open again. “I don’t know if I’ll make it much longer.”
He looked up at me, his pen stilling. “Would you like me to leave?”
I smiled sleepily. “I like having you around,” I slurred. “I’m just warning you that there’s a chance I’ll start snoring.”
Becket capped his pen, and promptly stood from the bed. “I should go. We have school in a few hours anyway. Goodnight, Manny.”
I waved to him as he gathered up the pens and put them in his pocket. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”
He didn’t say anything as he left my room, not closing the door all the way.
When I tucked myself back into bed, I pulled the covers all the way up to my chest. Drifting in and out, I couldn’t be sure if the sounds I heard were coming from my head, or real life.
I heard Becket’s father, and it zapped every bit of tired right out of me.
“What are you doing?” he asked his son. “Just wandering around? With that girl in the house?”
“We talked a little but she wanted to go to bed. I can’t sleep.”
His father sighed. “Fine then. Let me give you something.”
I shot out of my bed like it was on fire, not even stopping to slip on my jeans. I didn’t feel like there was time, and I couldn’t give a fuck that his dad would see me mostly naked. Not with what he’d just said.
I stumbled into the hall to find the two of them moving to another room. My back went to the wall, and I stared down the man before me.
“Talking?” he said, examining my arm and my lack of clothes.
“Talking,” I rep
eated. “Becket is good company, sir. I wanted him around.”
He smiled tightly. “I see. Well, you have to get up in a couple hours for school, so I suggest you head off so that you’re not slogging through class in the morning.”
When he and Becket started walking, I ran around, getting in front of him. “You’re giving Becket something? Like a sleep aid?”
“Why?” he asked. “Do you need one?”
“No,” I said. “I just know that those things on TV do bad things to people on occasion. I’m worried about Becket.”
His smile changed to one that almost convinced me he wasn’t the Devil. “Oh, don’t worry at all. I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing.”
“Not a medical doctor.”
Oh, that look... “I know what I’m doing,” he repeated. “How about you follow us, and I’ll show you how harmless it is?”
You bet your ass I followed him.
We went into his office, and Becket sat on the edge of the desk. When his father got a little brown wooden box from a drawer, my heart pounded. No. I wanted to pull him away from here, and far from the man so eagerly removing a needle from the box. The syringe was filled with something yellow, and my heart caught in my throat as my hands shook at my sides.
“I’ve done this plenty of times,” Dr. Anders said. “It’s perfectly harmless, and it’ll get Becket a good night’s sleep.”
I looked at the boy as he watched his father, complete trust in his eyes. Was he foolish, or crazy? Blind, that was it. Blind as his father stabbed his arm with a needle, and depressed the plunger. My heart stopped as I waited for something awful to happen.
Becket swayed when the needle left his skin, and I rushed to catch him. “Hey,” I said. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Just sleepy.”
His father was tossing the used needle in the trash when he smiled over at me. “See? We don’t have a problem when he behaves and listens to me. Now, both of you, get to bed.”
Chapter Seven
Scar Tissue
Becket
“Get up,” my father said, shaking the bed hard enough that my head hit the backboard. I blinked several times, and ended up staring at the ceiling of my bedroom. My mind was slogged through thoughts, and my eyes didn’t want to stay open. I pushed myself up so that I could stare at my father.
