by S. M. Soto
After Myrah and I have a good cry together, I crawl into bed, and sob into my pillow until I’m heaving for breath. My mom continuously knocks on my door to let me know her and Richard are leaving for the weekend, but I ignore her. I need to be alone for a while. I don’t want to spend a minute near the stepbrother I can’t stand, and the stepfather who barely notices me.
It’s a little after 10:30 p.m. when Liam finally calls, letting me know he’s made it home safely. I try to hold it together for him on the phone, but I can’t. Immediately upon hearing his voice, I break down, and beg him to call me every chance he gets. We’re limited to the house phone until my mother decides to give me my phone back. After Connor sold my mother on his passel of lies about me and Liam, she took my phone as punishment and hasn’t given it back since. Now that I need it more than ever to feel connected to Liam, I don’t have it.
I force myself to eat what my mom made for dinner, meatloaf and vegetables, before I take a shower, just barely going through the motions. Under the hot spray of the showerhead, the steam unclogs my airways from all the crying I’ve done within the last twenty-four hours. Now, more than I ever, I wish I would’ve let Liam take my virginity, just so I could always have a piece of him with me. I don’t want to put ideas in my head about Liam and I not making it but…I can’t help it. He’s three hours away from me.
How the hell will we ever make this work? We’re just two kids in high school for Christ’s sake.
That night, as I’m on the cusp of falling asleep, a small, unusual creaking noise wakes me. I rub the sleep from my eyes and shift on the bed, perking up so I can hear better. The doorknob creaks as it turns, and the door groans on its hinges. Squinting my eyes in the dark fuzz of my room, I settle on the male figure slipping inside my room.
“Liam?” I say, still half asleep. There’s a muffled chuckle but no reply.
Connor’s face finally comes into view the closer he gets to my bed. I jolt back against the headboard, on the defensive.
“What the hell are you doing in here, Connor?” I whisper harshly.
“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” The bed dips under his weight, as he slides in beside me. My body tenses, not used to being so close to Connor, especially in my own bed.
“Like you care,” I scoff.
“You’re right, I don’t.”
I shoot him a glare, that he probably can’t see very well, “Get the fuck out,” I hiss angrily. “I don’t need your shit right now.”
“You know what this means, right?” he says, completely ignoring me.
“I said get out!” I snap, much louder this time.
Suddenly, Connor’s hand is slapped over my mouth, and his body tackles me down onto the bed, covering me.
"Who's going to save you now, Bea?" Connor whispers harshly in my ear. His heavy weight rests on top of me and I squirm trying to remove the dead weight.
"Get off me, Connor." I spit out, underneath the weight of his palm. My hearts pounds in my chest and my stomach churns with fear.
"After tonight sweet Bea, you'll always be mine. No one will ever want you again."
My heartbeat gallops, filling my ears with violent thuds at the sound of Connor's clothes rustling. I squirm and scramble to get away, but every attempt is futile. Dread swims through my veins.
"Connor." My voice is shaky. "What're you doing?"
Tears sting my eyes because I know what he's doing. What he's wanted to do from the very first day he's moved in.
All I can think is how stupid I’ve been. How naïve I was when it came to Connor and his attitude toward me. From the very first time he pulled that knife out on me, I should’ve told someone. Anyone. Maybe things would’ve been different. That’s all I can think as he grapples at my clothes and helpless tears cloud my vision.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, little Bea.”
Connor grips my wrists tightly above my head, pinning them on the bed, and rests his body between my legs. A ragged sob tears through my chest as the adrenaline and reality kick in.
No, no, no, no.
"Connor! Stop, please," I plead. "Please don't do this." My sobs pierce the still air as I fight. With every fiber of my being I fight him off.
It’s useless.
Hot searing pain rips between my legs and I wail in pain as he tears through me, taking everything from me. My purity. My decision. My future with Liam. And most of all, my life. It's all gone.
When he's done, hot tears slide down my temples and fade into my hair in my state of shock. Long thick fingers wrap around my throat tightly, applying enough pressure to cut off my breathing.
"If you ever say anything, I'll fucking kill you. I won't have a problem hurting you or your whore of a mother. Do you know how easy it would be to kill her? Your best friend, your fucking boyfriend? I could ruin you so easily. Remember, I hold all the cards here. You're nothing but my sweet little whore, Bea. No one will ever want you ever again. Do you understand me? You. Are. Trash."
His words wash over me, and with my tears distorting my vision, all I can manage to do is nod. He releases his pressure from my throat and leaves my room like nothing happened, with an extra pep in his step. I roll onto my side and let the tears fall freely while I stare blankly at my closed blinds, wondering how this could’ve happened to me.
When I turn down Willow Drive, a sense of nostalgia, and melancholy overwhelm me. This is home. This is the place I fell in love with the girl of my dreams. It’s also the same place I experienced my first heartbreak. My Aunt and Uncle’s two story comes into view, but I’m more interested in the stucco house next door. My eyes are riveted on the single-story home.
My sweet Bea.
I don’t know why my brain still continues to call her that, or why my heart still believes it. She’s not mine anymore.
It’s been six fucking years. Six long years. But sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday that I left, and others, it feels like it was a lifetime ago. Yet it still doesn’t make it any easier coming here. It’s like I left my entire heart here in Lakeport and once I crossed that city limits sign it finally started to beat again. It fucking hurts, being here, but not being able to see her—the one girl who still has a hold on my heart—hurts even more.
As I pull into the driveway, I can’t help but wonder whatever happened to Bea Norwood, and where she is now. It’s hard getting information out of Myrah. Whenever the topic of Bea comes up, she immediately changes the subject. It is understandable, I guess. My cousin thinks I left and broke her best friend’s heart, but what she doesn’t know is, she broke mine too.
My leaving Lakeport was just as hard on me as it was for Bea—if not more—so, when she stopped answering my calls, and my texts, it was like a blow to the gut, and a shot to the heart. I was helpless. She never even had the decency to break it off with me officially, she just dropped me, like what we had didn’t mean anything to me—like it meant shit to her. It meant fucking everything to me.
I’ll never forget what it felt like when I came back to Lakeport after that first month of radio silence from her. I wanted to come sooner, right when I had that sinking feeling in my gut that told me something was wrong. But driving three hours when you’re starting at a new high school, training on a new team, and catching up on the district’s curriculum just wasn’t possible. I managed to slip away from life in San Jose back to Lakeport. Back to her. But she had already moved on.
I thought I’d drive down and surprise her for her birthday and Valentine’s day, since her birthday is the day before, but nothing went as planned. When I rang her doorbell, I didn’t expect to be shooed away by her mother and Connor. They told me Bea had moved on, she didn’t want to see me anymore. But that’s not even the worst part, it was the little tidbit about her dating the new guy in town. That’s who she had moved on with. That’s who she was on a fucking birthday dinner-date with.
I’ll never forget the pain I felt that day. It was an all consuming ache.
It incinerates you from the inside out. It’s one that makes you gasp in pain and bang on your chest, where that stupid organ lies.
Bea was always so sure that she wasn’t good enough for me, and she constantly worried I’d find someone else to love, but what she didn’t know? She was it for me. Bea had my entire heart laid out in the palm of her hand, and she could’ve done whatever she pleased with it—my sweet girl had all of me. From the moment I caught sight of the gorgeous brunette with striking hazel eyes, I knew I was in trouble. Bea was a fucking wet dream with her long brown hair and the sweet lilt to her voice. All I wanted to do was corrupt her sweetness, but even more than that? I wanted to love that girl. I wanted to love her so hard, my heart would never love anyone else again.
And that’s exactly what fucking happened.
Shaking thoughts of my young love away, I cut the engine of my truck and head inside to greet Myrah. The house is just as I remember it, almost like a shrine of the place I spent most of my time in as a teenager.
“If it isn’t the major-league star, Liam ‘The Gunner’ Falcon.”
I chuckle at the sound of Myrah’s voice. If she didn’t call to check up on me as often as she did, I might actually admit I’ve missed hearing her voice.
“Enough of that shit. I came here to escape, not deal with fans.”
“Oh, I’m no fan, Mr. I’m-Big-And-Famous,” Myrah says, crossing her arms over her chest with a smirk on her face.
I make a show of rolling my eyes. “Get the fuck over here already.”
She laughs and runs across the living room, tossing herself in my arms. “God, I’ve missed you Li,” she whispers earnestly, and I squeeze. She has no idea how much I’ve missed her too. Myrah’s always been the little sister I never had. When my parents sent me here, I thought it was the worst fucking thing in the world, but then there was Myrah, not to mention Bea.
Backing away, I keep her at arms-length and look her up and down in an assessing manner.
“You look good, kiddo. Work treating you well?”
“I fucking love it,” she says with a giddy smile, making me laugh. Myrah’s always dreamed of being part of the fashion business one day, and now that she works for a vintage dress designer, she’s living “the dream” as she’d put it.
“How about you? How does it feel to be one of the best pitchers of all time? I mean seriously, the San Francisco Giants? You freaking made it, Li.” She beams, punching me in my shoulder in jest.
I twist my lips ruefully. “It’s overrated.”
She scoffs. “Liar.”
“It’s my dream, and I love it…but it doesn’t mean I’m one hundred percent happy.” I can’t help that my eyes drift to the house next door. My heart pangs with a longing to smell Bea’s sweet scent, to hear her harmonic laughter, and just see her beautiful face one last time.
“How is she?”
I know I shouldn’t have asked, but I need to know. I wouldn’t be surprised if a spectacular girl like Bea was engaged to be married by now. I want her to be happy, I really do, but I also don’t want to hear those words come out of Myrah’s mouth. I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to handle them.
Part of me wants to run up the steps next door and find out for myself if she’s still there. The other part of me worries she’s gone, living happily with someone else. That part of me wants to strangle the lucky bastard to death. I’ve had six years to prepare for this moment, but it feels like it was just yesterday that I left.
Myrah detaches herself from my body and wrings her hands together just like she’s always done when she’s nervous, or uncomfortable.
“So, no Emery? You decided to come alone?” she asks trying to change the subject on me. Cocking my head to the side, I level my narrowed gaze at her trying to figure out why she’s dodging my question.
“Emery is just a friend. I’ve told you that.”
“Some friend you’ve had for what, three years now?” she quips.
“Cut the shit. What the hell is going on, Myrah?” I step into her personal space, giving her no choice but to face me.
“Okay, Liam...there's something you should know," she whispers, unable to look me in the eyes. My heart pounds within the confines of my chest.
Here it is. The moment I’ve been dreading.
“What?”
I swallow thickly.
“Bea's different now...she's not the same girl she once was. She's not the Bea you left behind anymore, Liam.” Moisture floods her eyes and her bottom lip trembles. She opens her mouth, as if she has more to say, but thinks better of it.
I grind my teeth together in frustration.
“I didn't fucking leave her. I told her I'd be back. I did all of this for her. Us.” I reiterate feeling my temper rise, much like it always does whenever I’m accused of leaving Bea “behind”. “And what do you mean she's different? I'm surprised she's not here with you.”
Myrah darts her eyes away, shifting on her feet.
“Bea hasn't been to my house in six years Liam. After you left, she...changed. She stopped wanting to hang out and she pushed all of our friends away. I tried to get her to open up, but she never would. Hell, she practically told me she never wanted to see me again. She just stays in that house all day, Li. Connor and his girlfriend come and go but she's just…there.” Myrah's voice cracks, “I know something's wrong Liam. I know it is. But she won't talk to me. She walks around like a zombie.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My heart thuds painfully in my chest and I come to one conclusion: I did this to her. There’s no other logical explanation. I broke the best thing in my life. My sweet B.
Of their own accord, my eyes travel to the quiet gray, stucco house next door as I try to make sense of what she’s saying.
“Why am I just hearing about this now? I would’ve come sooner.”
“Don’t you get it? She doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Not me, not even you. You know I’ve probably seen Bea a total of twelve times in six years. Twelve times Liam. She was my best fucking friend one day, then all of a sudden, she wasn’t. She stopped calling. She stopped talking. Everything just stopped.”
“What the fuck?” I stare at Bea’s house, wondering if she’s still there right now, huddled somewhere inside. I try like hell to understand what would have made her stop talking to her best friend out of the blue without any warning.
“Does she still live next door?”
“Yeah, I saw her a few weeks ago. She was just staring blankly out the front window. I don’t even think she saw me wave to her. I saw her again a few days ago. I actually called out to her, but she ignored me, and took off like a bat out of hell.”
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing intelligible comes out. Instead I give Myrah an excuse, so I can process everything she’s just said.
“I’ve gotta unpack, I’ll see you later for dinner.” I lift my bags over my shoulder and walk toward the stairs, giving her the not so subtle hint that I need a minute to process. Myrah’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Even if you and Emery were a thing…it would be okay, Liam. You know that, right? It’s been six years.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying something I shouldn’t. Resuming my stride, I walk up the stairs and unpack.
It’s not like I haven’t tried to move on from Bea. I’ve had six fucking years to do so, but what no one mentions is how hard it is to forget the person you gave your heart to. Bea stole a piece of my heart when we were kids, and I’m certain I’ll never get that piece back. Fuck, what am I saying just a piece? She stole the whole damn thing, and now I’m just a lovesick fool.
Emery came into my life at a perfect time, I was screwing my way around the baseball groupies when I met her. She was gorgeous, funny, and everything I have ever wanted in a girl, but she wasn’t Bea. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t replace Bea with Emery. So instead, she elected herself as my friend and confidant, who I might have fucked once or twice over the years of our frie
ndship.
One drunken night after bar hopping with friends, I slipped up and like a heartbroken little pussy, I told her everything about Bea. I started from the moment I met her, to the moment I fell in love with her, to the moment I had to break her heart. She was always the one who got away, and I’ve always felt like shit for leaving her the way I did. I can’t help but wonder how different things could be if I would’ve never left. Would I still be playing in the major leagues? Would me and Bea still be together?
The shrill ringing of my cell snaps me out of my thoughts. With a sigh, I dig it out of my pants pocket and smirk when I get a good look at the name on the screen.
Speaking of the devil.
“How’s it goin’ so far?”
“Like you care,” I scoff.
“Oh, c’mon. Give me some credit here. So, seriously, how is it?” Emery asks.
“It was good seeing Myrah again, but there’s a few other things that I’m trying to wrap my head around at the moment.”
The line is silent for a beat, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear just to make sure Emery’s still on the line.
“And Bea?”
A sharp pain stabs me in the chest at the sound of her name. Tossing myself on the guest bed, I rest my shoulders against the headboard and think about all the memories I’ve shared in this room with Bea. My cock still gets rock hard just thinking about it. Some things you just can’t forget—how fucking juvenile.
“Myrah thinks something is wrong with her. They haven’t talked in years. I don’t know…something just doesn’t feel right,” I mumble to myself.
“Hmmm. Sounds fishy. I’m guessing you’re going to figure it out, Sherlock?”
My mouth twitches into a small grin. “I might.”
“In Liam speak, that means yes,” she says with a grin in her voice. “Keep me updated.”
“Oh, I will.”
“And for what it’s worth…I hope you either win your girl back or get some closure. You deserve it.”
With that, the line goes dead, and I’m left contemplating what the fuck to do next.
