by S. M. Soto
My heart flutters at the realization, and I fight back a smile, focusing my attention back on the road outside.
“What made you stop talking to Myrah?” Liam asks suddenly, and like a match being lit, the tension in the truck roars to life like the flickering of a flame. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, chewing on it nervously.
How am I supposed to answer this question honestly?
I hate that I cut Myrah out of my life. It hurt, watching her move on from our friendship, replacing me with other girls at school. Watching them giggle together upstairs in her room, then sneak out at night to hang out with boys and go to parties. I missed all of it.
Every moment I was supposed to share with my best friend was ripped from me in the most cruel of ways. I was so broken from Connor’s abuse and Liam’s leaving that I didn’t want to be around anyone. I wanted to be left alone. And then when the bruises started becoming more frequent, I knew I couldn’t be around Myrah the way I used to. We always dressed in front of one another, and the moment I stripped out of my clothes she would see them. Every hand print, bruise, and cut, she would see it all. And I didn’t want her to.
I was ashamed of myself for allowing Connor to do those things to my body. I was ashamed of how weak I was, of how badly I let him hurt me.
It didn’t help that every time I looked at Myrah or her house, I thought of him—Liam. It made the gaping hole in my heart stretch to painful lengths. I was so far down the rabbit hole already, I thought I was doing the right thing—for myself and my best friend. Keeping her in the dark was as much for her benefit as it was for mine.
I remember like it was yesterday. The day I purposely pushed her away for good. She wouldn’t stop calling or coming over to check on me. It only made Connor take it out on me even more. I was already so weak, just seeing her or crying into her arms would’ve had me giving in. I couldn’t have that.
So when she came to the door? I picked a fight. I yelled. I got angry. I said things I truly didn’t mean. All in the hope she would back off. I wanted to protect her from Connor’s wrath. I was also protecting myself.
“Bea?” Liam prompts.
I suck in a lungful of air. “I don’t know…” I lie. “So many things were changing, and I just couldn’t handle it.” I shrug my shoulders helplessly, not able to come up with a better lie.
“Couldn’t handle what?”
I don’t know why I say it, but the truth—or the half-truth—tumbles past my lips, like I was slipped truth serum.
“You leaving,” I say, turning my gaze out the window. Letting a tear slip, it splashes onto my hand settled over my lap, and I wipe it away before he has a chance to see it.
“Bea…”
The way he says my name, it makes the fracture in my heart spread a little more. The pain in my chest is heavy, unbearable, and it’s impossible to breathe through.
“I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and it’s like a stab to the heart. I wince in pain, clenching my eyes shut against the onslaught of tears.
“It doesn’t matter.” I sniffle. “That was a long time ago.”
He probably has a beautiful girlfriend somewhere back home. He doesn’t need his old flame crying on his shoulder because he left six years ago. As long as he’s happy—that’s all that matters.
“Yeah, it was.” Is all he says in reply.
The rest of the drive home is ridden in complete silence. I don’t know if I feel relieved or saddened by the still air. It’s been six years since I’ve heard his voice, and hearing it is like being taken back in a time machine, back when life was easy. I won’t lie, hearing his deep gravelly voice is purely for my own selfish reasons. But if hearing it means I have to answer questions that are impossible to answer, then I’d rather sit in silence.
His truck pulls to a stop in front of my house, and I’m already halfway out the door when his hand shoots out, gripping onto my forearm. I freeze, my body going rigid as needle like sensations stab across my flesh. His touch should feel good, but it doesn’t, Connor ruined that for me.
He’s talking, saying something, but I can’t hear him. There’s roaring in my ears, the white noise is so loud I can’t hear a thing beyond it. I stare wide eyed at his hand on my skin, willing the sense of despair to leave.
He’s not Connor. He’s not Connor. He’s not Connor.
Liam must realize his hand on my arm is a problem, because he immediately let’s go with an apologetic look on his face. Inhaling deep breaths, I will my erratically beating heart to slow.
“Stay,” he says and I’m almost certain I’ve imagined it, until he points to Myrah standing on the stoop of her porch with wide eyes and her mouth dropped open in shock. Shifting my gaze back to Liam, his hands are gripped around the steering wheel and his eyes are churning with so much emotion, I can feel them transfer to my own.
“Stay for dinner?” he asks again. I start refusing when Myrah pops her head in.
“Please stay, Bea.”
I narrow my eyes, they drift from her to the porch and I can’t help but wonder how she got here so quickly. Staring back at Myrah and Liam, I see the hope in their eyes, especially hers. I dart my gaze to my house where Connor’s car is already parked in the driveway. I chew on my bottom lip, mulling it over.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll stay.”
Myrah breaks out into a wide grin and half drags me out of the car. I shoot Liam a look over the hood, only to find him staring at me with a small smile on his face, just like he used to when we were those two kids hopelessly in love.
In the kitchen, I help Myrah make dinner. I stir the Bolognese sauce, and she readies the meatballs. We find a comfortable rhythm with each other. It almost feels like no time has passed at all. But it has. I’ve lost years with my best friend, my other half, and nothing will change that.
“How are your classes and the job going?” she asks, rolling the meat between her hands.
“It’s been great so far, and the job is easy work. My friend Melody says it’s easy money, I’m pretty much getting paid to sit down and watch people read books.”
Myrah stops her movements and turns to me with pursed lips. “Is it wrong that I’m jealous? I miss having you as a friend and I don’t want to share.” She fiddles with the meatball in her hand and laughs nervously.
I smile and shake my head. “You’ve never stopped being my best friend, Myrah. You’re irreplaceable in the friend department.” I smile, appeasing her. “But Melody is…different. She’s helped me a lot since I’ve met her. I honestly don’t know how much I’d enjoy going to class everyday if it wasn’t for her.”
“Well, if this Melody is your friend, then I’d love to meet her someday.”
“I think she’d like that.”
“Now, c’mon, let’s eat!” Myrah yells loud enough to get Liam’s attention.
We all sit around the dining table and dig into the delicious meal. It feels good to sit and eat without worrying about Connor or feeling anxiety creep into my bones. It all feels so…normal. For the first time in a long time I take my time while eating and enjoy the different flavors that burst across my taste buds. Eating back home is always so tasking when I’m on high alert. I don’t take the time to enjoy the food, all I ever focus on is trying like hell to stay invisible to Connor.
“The hair looks good, too. Melody’s idea, I’m presuming?” Myrah asks with a smirk.
Tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears, I peak a glance at Liam and meet his gaze.
His aqua eyes make my stomach flip and my heart flutter. “It looks good, doesn’t it, Li?”
His eyes burn holes through my skull, his stare is so intense I almost forget how to breathe.
“She looks beautiful.”
I just about die at his words. Warmth spreads throughout my chest, and the butterflies in my stomach roar recklessly. Heat creeps up my neck. With a trembling hand, I reach for my water and take a large gulp, hiding my face behind the glass.
Liam’s stare never
once leaves me. I want to look away, but I can’t. His gaze hits me in places that have been dormant for years. Everything falls away as we stare at each other. The current in the air thickens and suddenly it’s just the two of us, suspended in time.
The shrill ringing of a cell phone snaps us out of the moment. Liam jolts, and frowns down at his ringing cell, his eyes darting up to mine.
“I really have to take this.”
He leaves the room and I shoot a questioning look at Myrah who darts her gaze away. My heart squeezes painfully because I have a feeling that whoever called is important to him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Myrah about Liam and his new life back in San Francisco but I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, thinking better of it.
“We should do this again tomorrow night, what do you say?” Myrah asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. I force a smile, my mind still hung up on Liam and his mysterious phone call.
“That sounds great. Did you want any help cleaning up before I head home? I should probably get going.”
Myrah smiles. “Dishes? It gives me an extra five minutes with you.”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
After we clean the dishes and tidy up the rest of the kitchen, I head home, dreading what Connor’s reaction will be. I close the front door behind me, completely greeted by silence. All the lights are off, and the air is still. My eyes shift toward the coat rack and my stomach tightens into a ball when I realize Jenny’s coat and briefcase aren’t there. Whenever she stays over, her briefcase and coat are always near the coatrack.
“And the prodigal boyfriend returns.”
I jump back at the sound of Connor’s voice. A tremor tears through my body, wreaking havoc on my nervous system.
“Back in school, making friends, and your old boyfriend is back in town?” Connor whistles from his position on the couch. I hadn’t even realized he was sitting here in the dark. Waiting for me. “I’m impressed, sweet little Bea,” he taunts, using Liam’s nickname for me. “I thought I’d broken you, but I guess I’ll need to work a little harder next time, wont I?”
My eyes fill with tears and I silently beg myself to stay strong and remember Melody’s words of encouragement.
“Connor, it doesn’t have to be like this. I promise, I won’t tell anyone, just please…please. I can’t do this anymore.” My voice cracks and my composure almost crumples. I fight back the tears that so desperately want to fall. Connor lets out a sinister laugh that sends chills down my spine.
“Oh, Bea. I know you won’t tell anyone. You want to know how?” he asks, standing from his position on the couch. For each step he takes forward, I retreat a step, until my back collides with the front door. Connor crowds me into the hard wood of the door, his body presses up against me shamelessly, making bile rise in my throat.
“I will kill you if you ever say anything. Do you understand me, Bea?” he says as his hot breath whips across my face. “I’ve been saving that little blade for you. I know you remember the one I’m referring to, am I right?”
I don’t bother nodding my head, the fear rolls off me in waves, and I know without a shadow of a doubt Connor can feel it—he lives and breathes for it.
“Don’t you get it? I’m dying to make you bleed. So go ahead and open that pretty little mouth, sweet Bea. Because I’m just waiting for you to slip so I can end you.”
“Why?” I whisper brokenly, staring up at him through my tears. I’ve never understood why Connor hated me so much. He didn’t touch me out of attraction, he touched me because he wanted to hurt me. Degrade me. I felt his loathing for me each time we were within feet from each other. I refused to believe he hated me over something as petty as his father remarrying my mother, but I knew there had to be something more I was missing, some underlying issue beneath his hate for me. At the very least I hoped there was a legitimate reason for his hate, because if there wasn’t? Connor was just down right sick in the head.
Connor cocks his head to the side and purses his lips. He dips his head down, near my ear and says exactly what I feared. “Because I can. Because I fucking hate you, sweet little Bea. No one deserves to be that perfect, that soft, that sweet. And now…” he trails off softly, smiling cruelly. “Now you’re not anymore, are you? You’re just a used-up whore that still doesn’t know how to take dick.” He sighs tauntingly.
A sob rattles in my chest, just dying to tear through my body at his cruel words. He really is a sociopath.
He raises his hand toward my face, making me flinch, cowering into the wall. My heart thuds against my ribcage with so much force, pain erupts throughout my chest. Instead of hurting me like I thought he was, he softly takes a strand of hair into his hand and twirls it around. He brings it to his nose and inhales one big deep breath, like he’s getting high off the scent. My chest heaves, trying to accommodate my breaths as fear takes hold of my body.
It all happened so fast, I couldn’t have protected myself from him, even if I tried. In a split-second Connor has his fist gripped in my hair and slams my face into the front door with so much force I start to see stars. Pain explodes in my cheekbone, and as a reflex, my hand shoots up to cup my face. My fingers trail over my damp brow and that’s when the next strike comes.
Connor grips a handful of my hair and yanks me down onto the floor. Pain shoots throughout my skull like a burning trail of fire. His fist collides with my gut and ribs and all the breath is knocked out of me. I gasp helplessly for air as my ribs scream in pain. Connor yanks down my bottoms, and slams into me brutally.
When he’s finished, he roughly rubs my face with his hand and brings it back to his mouth. My eyes hone in on the red that’s painting his fingers. He sucks his thumb into his mouth and smiles a cold smile.
“Making you bleed is delicious.”
My stomach churns violently.
“You won’t be going anywhere tomorrow, sweet little Bea. You’ll be staying home.”
With that, he leaves me on the floor with blood dripping from my face and my jeans still around my ankles.
I haul the board over my shoulder, about ready to strip out of my shirt, that’s how fucking hot it is.
Fuck, I miss the weather in the Bay.
Even though it’s October, it’s still hot as shit here. You’d think a jacket would be necessary to prepare against the fall weather, but that’s not the case. If our team had done better this year, we would’ve been in the World Series and I wouldn’t have to deal with this fucked up weather, but as I look over at the house next door, I’m kind of glad we didn’t. It gives me more time with Bea.
For the last hour and a half, I’ve been tearing down the old fence between Myrah and Bea’s houses. It had completely collapsed toward the back, and Myrah asked me to fix it. I tried not to get angry at the fact that pretty boy Connor has been living with a broken fence for God knows how long. It’s just like him to leave the hard work to someone else—the fucking pussy.
He probably didn’t want to get callouses on his hands.
I start digging a hole for the new posts when I hear the sliding glass door next door open then slam closed. The unmistakable sound of sobbing freezes me in place.
“It was so bad. I can’t do it, Melody. I’m not like you.”
Bea’s voice has me dropping the shovel and hopping around the fence into her backyard.
She’s sobbing into her phone with her back to me. Her shoulders shake violently as she hunches over.
“Bea?”
She whirls around like a frightened animal and drops her phone. All the blood drains from my face when I get a good look at her.
“What the fuck happened to you, Bea?”
She has a gash above her eyebrow and a dark purple bruise surrounding it. It looks vicious. Closing the distance between us, I take her face in my hands and examine her, ignoring the fact that she flinched when my hands rose toward her face.
Her eyes, those beautiful mercurial hazel eyes are red and puffy from crying.
As gently as I can, I run my finger over the wound on her forehead. The blood is dried, but the wound looks fresh. And fucking brutal.
“Why aren’t you in class? Is everything okay?” I search her eyes for an answer. Those caramel eyes dart away from my questioning stare. “And what the fuck happened to your face, Bea?”
“I-I was taking a shower last night when I got home, and I thought I heard something…I slipped and lost my footing. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t catch myself before I fell.”
My brows crease and I stare at her in disbelief.
I want to believe her, but I just don’t understand how the fuck she could’ve gotten this messed up from falling in the shower. Our bodies natural reaction when falling forward is to protect our face, so unless her arms were broken, I don’t see how this could’ve happened.
“You fell?” I ask dubiously, raising a single brow. “In the shower?”
She gulps, nodding her head vigorously.
“Bea, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” I search her eyes, trying to read the truth, but this girl standing before me isn’t the same Bea. I can’t read her like I used to. Her mouth is saying one thing, but her eyes—eyes that are so haunted—they say another.
“I know,” she whispers hoarsely, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eye. My heart clenches and I inhale a gruff breath, pushing past the slicing pain in my chest. “I’ve been feeling sick lately. I must’ve gotten lightheaded and lost my balance or something. It’s nothing, really.”
As softly as I can. I wipe the tear away with the pad of my thumb, relishing in how good it feels to have her so close to me, with my hands on her again.
“Why are you crying, sweet B?”
“I just…God, it feels good being this close to you again,” she croaks. I clench my eyes shut, fighting against my need to kiss her and feel those pink plump lips against my own.
“I should go back inside,” she says so quietly, I almost don’t hear it. Dropping my hands around the nape of her neck, I hold her, never wanting to let go.
“Don’t go, Bea. Not yet.” I beg, like some weak little shit. I open my eyes, my blues clashing with her honey hazel. She bites her bottom lip and nods her head.
