The moment I met their stares, they looked away in shame. What the fuck was going on?
“Seriously, Ben.” I investigated the filling hallway, students enamored with their phones as they laughed secretly. “Something’s happening.”
Ben grasped my chin and forced my eyes away from a sickly-pale Alice down the hall. “Let them talk. I don’t give a shit what they say.”
He smiled and pecked my mouth as I tried and failed to return the optimistic expression.
I twisted the combination dial on my locker as the beeping of cellphones and ruckus laughter echoed around us. The hairs on my neck and arms stood on end, my stomach knotting in discomfort. Every instinct screamed at me to cut my losses and flee the school, to protect myself from something horribly painful.
I banished the cowardly notion.
“Silas? Ben?” Alice’s trembling voice stole my attention, and I paused in opening my locker as I glanced over my shoulder.
Tears brimmed in her eyes, her hands shaky. There was no love lost between us, but I furrowed my brow in concern.
Ben’s face darkened. He reached for her arm as if to comfort her but stopped himself at the last minute. He dropped his hand and straightened his shoulders, like he was steeling himself for something unpleasant.
“Alice.” He eyed her with clear suspicion, but she barely spared him a glance, instead fastening her gaze on me.
“I’m sorry.” Tears glistened on her long lashes, and she blinked profusely to stop them from falling. “They were going to tell everyone, tell my parents. I had to.”
“Huh?” Ben and I grunted simultaneously, and she backed away, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry,” she choked, fleeing down the hallway as Ben gave chase, calling her name.
Entirely bewildered, I refocused on my locker, jerking the metal lever to release the catch. The door swung open. Craning my neck, I struggled to keep sight of Ben, but I was instantly distracted as something poured out of my locker.
“The fuck?” Square papers fluttered to the floor, scattering across the carpet as an impressive mound piled at my feet.
Were these notes? Were text messages no longer enough? Stupid son of a… Except they weren’t notes; they weren’t notes at all.
The hallway receded. The noise faded until there was nothing but a dull ringing in my ears as I slowly lowered myself to my knees. My fingers trembled as I gingerly plucked one of the innocent-looking rectangles from the maroon carpet. The paper was stiff and plastic-like. My stomach lurched with the urge to vomit.
Polaroids. They were Polaroids.
“Oh my God.” Horror crashed through me as I stared at a photo of myself.
Except the me in the picture had no idea I was being photographed at all. The ignorance was clear from my half-dressed state, a towel in my hand like I had just left the shower. My hair was longer, the jeans I wore an older pair that had been stained during last year’s musical set production. This picture was old, from last spring.
“Oh my God.” I pawed through the growing pile of pictures as they trickled from my open locker, my disgust mounting.
There were pictures of me at work, in my room, exiting my truck. Some were older, judging from the length of my hair or the clothes I wore. But in many of them, I wasn’t wearing clothes, so it was impossible to judge the timeline.
As my breathing hitched, I sifted through the Polaroids, cringing at the images of me and Ben together. I searched for his blond hair amidst the massive stack, recoiling when I found it more often than not—Ben going down on me in the library, us kissing in the school parking lot the night of the winter dance, me sitting astride his lap in my bed.
“No,” I moaned, covering my mouth with my palm as bile filled my throat.
I’d forgotten to shut my blinds that night, hadn’t I? I always shut my blinds when I went to bed, but that night, I was distracted and forgot.
“No.”
There were numerous pictures portraying Ben, his back against the headboard as I straddled him. It was clear from our lack of clothing and the way his fingers dug desperately into my back exactly what we were doing. At first glance, the picture was erotically beautiful, both of us lost to the throes of passion. Had I taken the photo myself, I would have treasured it.
But I didn’t take this picture; I didn’t know it existed until this moment.
As my vision blurred, something inside me shattered. That night had been the best night of my life. It was the first time I had sex in my bed, the first time I slept next to someone afterward, the first time in my life I felt complete. But now it was tainted, contaminated from the repulsive realization that we hadn’t been alone.
He had been there. He had watched.
“Silas?” Ben joined me on the floor. I should warn him, tell him not to look, but I was frozen. “Silas, what the hell?”
A terrible choking sound caught in his throat as he snatched the picture I was holding from my hand. I sat stunned and immobile as Ben dropped the photo before diving his hands into the pile and hectically searching through the sea of images.
“Ben!” I was dimly aware of Ronnie behind us, but I couldn’t acknowledge him. I was too lost in the recesses of my agonized, tortured mind to do anything but stare vacantly at the bottom of my locker that held even more pictures. “Jesus Christ! I thought it was just the one.”
“The one?” Ben snarled. “What do you mean?”
A beat of silence. “Fuck, Ben, you guys don’t know? The picture’s all over school.”
“What picture?”
“I know something you don’t know. But it won’t take long until everyone else does, too.”
Ronnie’s answer was unnecessary. Boyt had released a photo, most likely one of Ben and me having sex. The cowgirl jeer made sense now.
I thought that wonderful, intimate moment would be shared between Ben and me forever, but I was wrong. Everyone knew, now. All would play witness to my most private moments. Every student in school had either received the picture on their phones or would see it on someone else’s.
Knowing Eric was following me, watching and photographing me, was a horrendous realization. But it somehow paled in comparison to this new knowledge. It was an egregious act, an atrocious violation. My body flooded with sorrow as something incredibly precious was ripped from my chest, like something invaluable had been stolen from me.
Everyone would know; everyone would see.
Like a macabre car crash, they’d sympathize and they’d balk, not really wanting to see. Yet it would be impossible for them to turn away, impossible not to watch. They’d peek through their fingers to steal glances of the innocent people smashed to pieces by a semi-truck. It was human nature, after all. We all possessed that evil part of our souls, the shadows that relished the pain and degradation of others.
As long as it wasn’t them, they gawked and laughed, secretly enjoying it.
No, it wasn’t them, but it was me, my humiliation, my life. It wasn’t some joke, some distant story to display for all to see. This was my fucking life!
I wanted to scream, the sound clawing its way up my throat, but it stuck behind my clenched teeth. It escaped more as a pathetic, broken sob than the wail of despair I wanted.
“Go to my locker, Ron.” Ben’s cracked voice filtered through the ringing in my ears. I blinked lazily as I fought to climb out of the deep, black pit where I currently drowned. “If there’s anything inside that shouldn’t be, put it in my bag and bring it back to me.”
“Ben—”
“Ronnie!” The hysteria in his voice broke my heart. “Just fucking do it.”
Something warm and soft slid over my cheek and spring soap washed over me, cleansing the befouled stain on my soul.
“Silas, baby?” Ben’s lips pressed to the spot below my ear, and I wanted to reach for him. I wished I could crawl into his lap and hide there forever, but I couldn’t speak. “Si? Please, come back. I can’t do this alone. Please, Silas.”
His pleas strengthened what little resolve I possessed to escape the labyrinth of humiliated torment I was lost in. I couldn’t be selfish, not now, not when my Ben needed me. He was always there for me, holding strong when I felt like breaking, and now, he was the one on the verge. It was my turn to be strong. I wouldn’t let him face this alone.
“Don’t break on me, not yet,” he begged in my ear. “I can’t do this without you.”
With a gasp, I jumped back into my body, grasping onto Ben’s shirt to keep myself from spiraling. “Ben, I’m here!” He dragged me into his arms as I panted his name, eyes burning with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, just help me clean these up.” Ben framed my face, his eyes manic and glassy. “Then, we’ll leave. Okay?”
I nodded, longing to be as far away from this wretched place filled with inhumane monsters as possible—the same monsters crowding around us, gawking. With a fresh wave of horror, I scrambled to gather the Polaroids as quickly as I could. I didn’t want them to see, not that it mattered. They already had a picture on their phones as a fucking keepsake.
Bodies converged on us, eyes fixated on our mortification. Most of them had the decency to look away swiftly in shame when faced with my agony, but their show of humanity wasn’t enough, not now. No, their pity did nothing to curb the intense wrath boiling through my veins. They’d born witness to my bullying for four fucking years, and it had taken something as vile as this to make them feel guilty? Their sympathy meant shit.
Raking the pictures into my bookbag, Ben and I worked in tandem, but we barely made a dent in the pile when Mr. Rodriguez, the Spanish teacher, shoved through the crowd of students. He muttered Spanish curses under his breath, his dark eyes scrutinizing the throng before zeroing in on Ben and me. We crouched on the floor, the pictures scattered around us like some torturous scrapbook exercise.
He took a good look at one of the Polaroids at his feet, and his face contorted into a furious, merciless mask. The stillness the appearance of a teacher had brought shattered as Mr. Rodriguez bellowed. “Everyone is to report to their first-hour classrooms immediately! I will give you all five minutes to disappear. Anyone left in this hallway after that will receive instant detention and possible suspension.”
For a split second, no one moved, and then it was a mad dash to escape. I remained a statue, eyes glued to Mr. Rodriguez. Were we in trouble? Did he want us to go to class? I couldn’t do that. I just wanted to go home.
“Boys, let’s get this cleaned up, then we’ll head to the principal’s office.” Mr. Rodriguez knelt before us, intending to gather the leftover photographs, and my panic exploded.
“But we didn’t do anything!” I choked, and his brow furrowed in confusion. “We didn’t send the picture, it wasn’t us. He’ll expel me—you can’t let him expel me.”
“Silas, you’re not in trouble.” He assured me, reaching to possibly pat my shoulder, but I recoiled from the touch automatically. He dropped his hand. “I don’t know what picture you’re talking about, but judging from these here on the floor, we need to call your parents immediately.”
“Ben!” Ronnie jogged up, his chest heaving as he offered Ben’s messenger bag. “There were pictures in your locker, too.”
Forcing that revolting discovery from my mind, I hurriedly collected the remaining photos on the floor, and with Ben’s help, we filled my backpack.
Mr. Rodriguez sent Ronnie to class with the command to keep his mouth shut. After glancing inside Ben’s bag, his lips thinned. “Let’s go.”
We followed him to Principal Moore’s office, Ben clinging to my numb hand like a lifeline. “It’s gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
The moment we reached the office, we were directed to sit down in the chairs in the lobby as Mr. Rodriguez took both our bookbags into Principal Moore’s office.
Ms. Acker appeared in the lobby with a frazzled Kim half a minute later, but we ignored them both. Kim was sent back to class, and Ms. Acker joined the other two adults in the principal’s office, a phone in her hand that looked suspiciously like Kim’s.
Curled into Ben’s lap, I listened to the rapid beat of his heart and blocked out the world around me. I focused solely on each th-thump beneath his rib cage, counting them under my breath as I prayed for a different reality—one that didn’t include humiliating pictures, horrifying shame, or heart-wrenching sorrow.
Silent as the grave, we sat shell-shocked. We didn’t speak; we didn’t cry. The only sounds were that of Ben’s choppy breathing and my endless counting.
At some point, his hand rubbed a comforting path down my spine, up then down, up then down.
I wanted to aid him in return, but I had no idea how. So, I clutched him to me. It seemed to be enough. He buried his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply and releasing the shuddered breath into my scalp. I stared at the carpet by our feet, my attention on a small stain near Ben’s tennis shoes.
One of the school counselors crossed from her office to Principal Moore’s. After a few minutes, she returned, informing us that our parents were on the way. She offered us water, which Ben refused, and asked if we needed anything.
When neither of us responded, she nodded sadly and shuffled back to the office.
We sat, clinging to each other, trying not to explode into a million tiny pieces.
I wanted to believe this was nothing more than a nightmare. We would wake soon, together in my bed where no one could see us. I was in denial yet again. There was no waking up from this. There was no erasing it, no more pretending. Everything was crashing and burning around us, and I had to wonder how it was possible for us to make it out together, unscathed.
Ben said we would be okay… He was lying.
Twenty-Seven
What felt like hours—but was probably only minutes—later, the door to the front office blew open, and Aunt June stormed inside, Uncle Henry hot on her heels.
I hid from their combined fury, burying my face in Ben’s neck, and he tightened his hold.
“Ben? Silas?” Aunt June’s voice approached, and I recoiled as her hand landed on my shoulder.
“Don’t touch him.” Ben’s voice cracked on the hoarse order, and her hand instantly disappeared.
“Ben, what’s going on?” Uncle Henry demanded, but we were saved from answering as a throat cleared.
Principal Moore’s voice was strained, tight. “Please, if you’d join me in my office. There’s a situation we must discuss.”
A situation. How cold and clinical. I wished I could view it with such detachment.
Barely two minutes passed before Aunt June’s outraged wail rang through the front office, and Uncle Henry boomed his own fury. They were livid, and tears stung my eyes as I fisted my hands in Ben’s shirt.
“It’s okay.” Ben strengthened his embrace. “She’s not angry with us, Silas, I promise. It’s okay.”
A hot tear leaked over my cheek, soaking into Ben’s shirt. “It’s not okay.” My voice broke on a sob, and Ben moaned in agony as more tears streamed down my face.
“No, Si, please. Not yet.” Ben pleaded in my ear as I soaked his shirt with my tears. “We can break later, but not now. Come on, baby, stay with me.”
His words penetrated my debilitating sorrow. I cupped his face, forcing the misery to the back of my mind. “I’m not going anywhere,” I vowed, forcing his watery eyes to mine. “I’m right here. You’re not alone, Ben. I’m right here.”
I pressed my forehead to his, holding his gaze as the loss crashed over us. His blue eyes flooded with moisture. Ben never cried, never allowed himself the vulnerability. A fissure the size of the Grand Canyon tore through the center of my chest. This was my fault. I did this.
“Ben—”
The lobby door swung open, cutting me off. My dad stood in the doorway, eyes wide with worry as he ran his dark gaze over me and Ben. Like a child, I scrambled off of Ben’s lap and launched myself into my dad’s arms, sobbing pathetically. He caught me
easily, cradling me to him the way he did when I was young.
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” I whimpered into his shirt, praying he wouldn’t hate me. “I’m sorry.”
Someone shuffled behind me, but I refused to leave the safety of my father’s arms.
He scrubbed my back roughly, his confused concern palpable in the air. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Instinctively, I knew he wasn’t addressing me. Principal Moore answered a moment later. “Mr. Brigs. If you’d come into my office—”
“What in God’s name happened to my son?” he growled, his normally placid tone twisting into something dangerous.
“Please, we need everyone to remain calm—”
“Remain calm?” he interrupted again, and I peeked over my shoulder in time to catch the bob of Principal Moore’s Adam’s apple as he faced down my irate father. “I can count on one hand the number of times my son has allowed me to see him cry. Remaining calm is the last thing on my agenda.” Dad straightened to his full height, looking, for the first time in memory, absolutely terrifying. “I’ll ask one more time. What happened to my child?”
Aunt June and Uncle Henry flanked Ben. Ms. Acker and Mr. Rodriguez stood farther back, behind Principal Moore and Vice-Principal Fields. Any stragglers in the front office were ushered into different counselors’ offices as Vice-Principal Fields stepped forward.
“Let’s move this into the conference room where we can speak more privately,” he suggested, his tone soothing. Dad guided me after the others, an arm around my shoulders.
I was directed to a chair at a long, rectangular table in the conference room. Dad took the chair on my right as Ben lowered himself into the seat to my left. He clasped my hand in his as I stared at the glossy table, counting the individual grains of wood. Dad barked requests for information, and Principal Moore reluctantly offered him the phone Ms. Acker had brought.
One glance was all it took. Dad paled, shoving the phone away like it was radioactive. My gut clenched and contorted. I wished I could forever erase that look on his face.
Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2) Page 28
