Ache

by S. M. Soto

  She’s gone.

  “Bea! God, are you okay? You’re bleeding, sweetie.”

  She’s gone.

  Myrah’s worried gaze blocks my view of the street and I focus on her, still praying Jenny will come back.

  “What happened? Why the hell did she slap you?”

  I stare at my best friend on mute, not really seeing her. All I see is Jenny and the broken expression on her face. Jenny’s face morphs into Myrah’s, whose eyes water as she pulls me into her arms and drags me into her house. I sit on her couch in a complete daze.

  She gone. My only hope is gone.

  That’s the only thing I can focus on right now.

  I don’t know how long I sit there. I hear Myrah talking to me, but I can’t comprehend it. There are more voices, but I tune them out, replaying the events of tonight. My face throbs in pain and I can faintly feel the trickle of blood coming from the scratches on my face made by the glass.

  “Angel?” Liam’s voice penetrates the thick fog. He squats down on his haunches, leveling our eyes. “Bea are you okay?”

  His indigo blue eyes search mine, and I see the worry there. It’s written all over his handsome face. He reaches his hand out toward me, and I jerk back, still jumpy from Connor’s ministrations and Jenny’s slap. Liam’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together in anger.

  He blows out a breath. “I won’t hurt you, Bea. I just need to know you’re okay.”

  I nod my head ever so lightly. It feels like my body is going into shock. Liam clasps my hands in his and squeezes reassuringly.

  “Please, say something.”

  “I-I’m fine,” I stutter but I know my eyes say differently.

  “What happened?”

  “C-connor, then the mirror broke, and then Jenny was there, and she was so angry. S-she slapped me.”

  I know I’m not making sense, but everything is still so fresh, coming in flashes. I start shaking uncontrollably and I wrap my arms around myself.

  “Stop asking her questions, Liam!” Someone yells, the voice is vaguely familiar which brings my attention to them.

  “She’s obviously shaken. Get the scratches cleaned up then go from there.” Emery says rubbing Myrah’s shoulder who looks just as shaken up as I do.

  “Her clothes are torn,” Myrah whispers into Emery’s arms. “Why are her clothes torn?”

  Liam shoots a deathly glare at Emery for telling him what to do. When he turns back to me, his face thaws and he forces a small smile.

  “Let’s get those scratches cleaned, yeah?”

  I nod my head.

  “A s-shower too, please.” I need to wash Connor’s scent off me. I need it gone. All of it.

  Liam cleans each cut gently with a permanent scowl etched on his face. Everything feels so numb, I don’t feel the sting of the glass or the pain while he cleans the wounds. I take a shower in scalding hot water, rubbing my skin raw, doing anything I can to rid myself of Connor’s filth.

  When I get out, I sit stiffly on Myrah’s bed, staring blankly at the wall. The door opens but I don’t bother turning to see who it is.

  “Did Connor do this to you?” Myrah asks from her position at the door. I clench my eyes shut against the onslaught of tears. They stream down my face regardless, and I fall apart. Myrah rushes to my side and crushes me in her arms. She shushes me and coos in my ear, doing everything she can to get me to stop sobbing and breathe.

  “I promise I’ll pay you back for your clothes. I p-promise.” I sob out and she squeezes me to her even tighter.

  “I don’t care about any of that, Bea,” she chokes. “All I care about is you. Please, please, just stop crying.” She sniffles into my ear as she tries to soothe me. Eventually, Myrah’s able to get me to fall into a troubled sleep.

  Raking my hands through my hair for the hundredth time, I pace past Myrah’s door again, waiting for her to come out. When she finally does, she closes the door softly behind her and turns to me with red rimmed eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know everything, but I think it was Connor.”

  Anger consumes me, making me tremble with rage. I stare at the closed door, red seeping into my vision. All I can picture is wrapping my hands around that fucker’s throat for hurting my girl.

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Liam, you can’t—”

  “The fuck I can’t!” I shout back, the jugular vein in my neck pulsing violently. “He laid a hand on her, now it’s my turn to teach the fucker a lesson.”

  “You need to cool off first. Don’t you think I’m angry, too? But I’m also thinking about the well-being of my best friend. If you do something dumb, who’s gonna be here when Bea wakes up? You were the only thing that snapped her back to reality. She needs you, Liam.”

  I tilt my head heavenward, counting to ten until I feel relatively calmer. I shift my gaze to the closed door and release a pent-up sigh.

  “I’m staying with her tonight. If she wakes up, I want her to know I’m here.”

  Myrah nods her approval. Turning my back on her I push through the door and stare at my angel curled into a ball in Myrah’s bed. She looks so tiny and fragile. She reminds me of the Bea I saw when I first came home.

  Closing the door behind me, I slide down the hard wood and rest my back against it. Leaning my head back, I look up at the ceiling trying to piece together what happened to my girl. My gut tells me its Connor, and my gut is never wrong. But I need to hear it from her first. Then I’ll kill the bastard. Fucking gut the son of a bitch for hurting my girl. Shutting my eyes, I fall asleep leaned up against the door.

  I jolt awake at the sound of a pained cry. My eyes fling open, and I jump to my feet, my body on high alert. Bea’s still sleeping but she’s murmuring and fidgeting about, almost like she’s in pain. I kneel beside the bed and rest my hand on her arm lightly, trying to comfort her while she’s having a bad dream. It doesn’t work. She jolts violently away from my touch, and her eyes spring open, landing on mine. The fear swirling there slowly dissipates as she stares at me. The remnants of her dream fade and her gaze focuses on mine intently, like they’re searching for a lifeline. Her eyes dart around the room quickly before drifting back to mine.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” she whispers, licking her lips nervously. “I was having a bad dream I guess.”

  I don’t say anything. Instead, I stare at her attentively, trying to read her.

  What the hell was she dreaming about?

  “What time is it?” she asks, stifling a yawn. I drop my eyes down to my watch to check.

  “Six in the morning.”

  She nods her head and sits there quietly. I don’t want to pummel her with questions, but I need to know what the fuck happened last night, and if it had anything to do with her nightmare just now.

  “What happened last night, Bea?”

  She doesn’t blink for the longest time as she stares at me. Her eyes flicker with indecision. She finally blinks and looks down at her hands clasped in her lap.

  “I-I had a fight with Jenny,” she stutters, still not looking at me. I purse my lips, never taking my eyes off her. She fidgets uncomfortably, and I know immediately there’s more to the story.

  “Okay.” I nod my head, and she jerks her gaze back to mine in surprise. Relief flashes across her face, too bad it’ll be short lived. She drops her gaze down, fiddling with the comforter, and my next question makes her body go stiff as a board.

  “Was the fight with Jenny what caused the cuts on your face? Or is there something else?”

  Her eyes slowly drift back to mine and she shakes her head. “I-I fought with Jenny,” she repeats again. I rake my hand through my hair in frustration. Pinning Bea with my stare, I force her to keep her eyes on me.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  She doesn’t respond. Trying another tactic, I take her hand in mine and squeeze gently. Her eyes drop to our hands and her brow creases.


  “How did you get those cuts on your face, Bea?” I ask again. Her eyes lift to mine, and suddenly, a tear falls, splashing onto our hands. With my free hand, I reach out and cup her cheek gently.

  “Sweet Bea, please tell me what happened.”

  A look of pain flashes across her face before she whispers, “He pushed me.”

  There’s no need for an explanation, I know exactly who she’s talking about. With my jaw set, I pull my hand away from hers and stand to my feet knowing what I have to do. Her hand shoots out, clasping onto my arm in a death grip. Tears streak down her face and her eyes are pleading with me.

  “Please, stay here with me. Don’t do it, he’s not worth it. Liam, please,” she cries, her hands scrambling to get a better hold on me.

  “Has he been the one hurting you this whole time? Is he the reason you hurt yourself?” I can barely restrain my anger now as I think about it. As I think about all the ways I’m going to fucking kill him.

  “No! Of course not,” she chokes out, still clutching onto my arm. Her tears make my heart clench, giving me pause. It brings me back to when we were teenagers, fighting inside the burger joint after I noticed the bruising along her neck. I should’ve known Connor would do this. He’s fucking insane.

  How long has this been going on? Is this why she pulled away from everyone?

  And why is she protecting him?

  “I can’t let this slide, baby,” I whisper, needing her to understand. I wage an internal war. She cries harder, sobbing uncontrollably. For a moment I consider leaving her, so I can deal with Connor, just like I should’ve done years ago, but when I see how broken down she is, I decide to stay. I pull her into my arms and then kiss the top of her head repeatedly.

  “Please, Liam. I need you. Promise me you won’t go, promise me?” she cries hysterically into my shoulder, clutching at my back like she thinks I’m going to disappear at any given second. Blowing out a sigh, I squeeze her tiny body against mine and nod my head even though I know she can’t see it.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  I lay down with her on the bed and hold her close to me while she cries. Her tears and her pain make my chest twinge in discomfort. I blink away the film over my eyes as the woman I love falls apart in my arms.

  I kept my promise for as long as I could. It was hard, I had to fucking restrain myself by the grace of God himself, but I did it. I haven’t laid a finger on Connor.

  Two fucking weeks of seeing that pussy walk in and out of the house drove me insane. One of the other reasons I didn’t strike was because his father and Bea’s mother are home now for Christmas. I knew kicking the shit out of their son would turn ugly real fast, especially since both Connor and his father have connections with some of the best legal attorneys.

  But that was all until today.

  I had just gotten back from a meeting with my agent and taking Emery to the airport. She was headed back home to catch up on work and visit her family for the holidays.

  I hop out of my truck when I spot him leaning against side of the house smoking a cigarette. The fucker actually smirks at me, and I fucking lose it. I stomp up to him ready to rip him apart, but the corny fuck has to open his mouth first.

  “Everything alright there, ‘Gunner’?”

  The way he says it makes my jaw clench. He’s ridiculing me, taunting me, waiting for me to strike him. He’s expecting me to fuck up, so he can play the victim. I blow out a breath trying to keep my cool.

  “Keep your hands off her,” I warn, barely restraining myself. He takes a drag from the cigarette, puts it out with the heel of his shiny shoe before returning his attention to me with a smirk.

  “What if I’ve already had my hands on her?”

  I take menacing steps toward him, fist raised, ready to lay him the fuck out.

  “You know that cute little birthmark between her legs?” he questions quickly, stopping me in my tracks. “Mmm. It’s my favorite.” He smiles salaciously.

  My heart drops, then squeezes, painfully. My fists itch to slam into his face, but I summon the strength to hold myself back.

  “What did you just say?” I inhale a deep breath, trying to ignore the ball of dread growing in my gut.

  “Did she taste like strawberries when you had her? She’s fucking delicious, isn’t she? Too bad you never had the chance to seal the deal, am I right, Falcon?”

  I choke, not believing what I’m hearing.

  Bea would never. She just wouldn’t. Not with this fuck, not with Connor.

  “Who do you think consoled her when you left, Falcon? Who do you think popped that sweet little cherry? It was me. It still is.” He adds with a grin and a twinkle in his eye. “Can’t blame me for taking what was offered, can you? She’s a feisty little thing in bed, too, likes being roughed up. A sweet little thing like her is probably too much for you to handle, just leave her to me.” He laughs darkly.

  My composure snaps as images of them together assault me. It all happens so fast. A feral growl rips from my chest and I slam my fist in his face over and over again, ignoring the pain in my knuckles. The loud crunch of the impact makes blood sing through my veins. I yank him by his collared shirt, ready to kill him for touching her.

  “Catch,” he says with blood staining his face. He digs in his pocket, tossing a small drive at me. I instantly let go of him, catching it effortlessly. His smile is bloody as he turns on his heel hobbling inside where Bea is. I stare down at the drive in my hand fighting against the urge to crush it in my palm. The need to know what’s on it infuriates the fuck out of me.

  He’s lying. He has to be. I don’t need a fucking flash drive to tell me what I already know. Bea would never do this.

  Inside the house, I close the door behind me and fire up the laptop, giving in. The drive loads and a fifteen-minute video clip pops-up. The cursor hovers over the play button for several minutes, until finally I have the balls to click play, ready to put myself out of my misery. The screen starts off black, then clears into a room. My blood runs cold when I realize whose room it is. Everything on the screen starts to happen in slow motion.

  He slips into the room.

  He climbs onto her bed.

  He pulls his pants down.

  He gets behind her.

  He pulls her pajamas all the way down her legs.

  And she doesn’t do a goddamn thing.

  Slamming the laptop shut, I fist my hand in my hair. My body vibrating in anger. With a roar, I hurl the laptop at the wall. The device slams against the wall with a deafening bang, tearing a hole through the sheetrock.

  Is this why she seems so broken? Because she has to fucking share Connor with his girlfriend?

  A crushing pain radiates throughout my chest spreading to my entire body. There’s now a crack in Bea’s name that’s tattooed over my heart.

  How could she?

  With mom and Richard ready to leave again for their next trip to start off the New Year in another country, I decide to stop by Myrah’s. I haven’t had much time to visit, what with my mom being back and her wanting to spend time with me. This was the first Christmas in such a long time where I was actually…happy. It’s obvious my mother was happy too, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile so much during the holidays.

  The cuts on my face have healed quite a bit, but of course, my mother noticed them. Connor told her Jenny came home drunk one night and trashed the house. He said I tried to talk some sense into her which only made her angrier, so she pushed me, accidentally knocking me into my mirror. My mother didn’t even question it. She was only sad to see Jenny go.

  Over the last few days I’ve talked to Myrah and Melody all day by texting, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Liam. At first, I thought he was avoiding me. I didn’t understand it. I expected to hear from him during Christmas, or at the very least get a message from him, but all I got was radio silence. Even when I went out of my way to say hello, he would pretend he couldn’t hear or see me. It hurt. But Myrah explained he�
��s been moody for the past few weeks, she thinks it has something to do with his work back home in San Francisco. I’ve shrugged it off thinking she was probably right.

  I make the trek across my lawn to Myrah’s, when I see his truck pull up. A giddy grin pulls at my cheeks and spreads across my face. I haven’t seen him in a little over a week now since he’s been in San Francisco, but the sight of him now has butterflies roaring in my stomach.

  “Hey, Liam.” I say with a smile on my face once I reach his truck. His face turns into stone once he hears the sound of my voice. He doesn’t bother looking up or acknowledging me either. Slamming the door to his truck, he doesn’t respond to my greeting, instead, he just walks past me like he didn’t hear. My brows crease in confusion.

  He had to have heard me, right?

  “Hey,” I say, chasing after his long strides. Gripping onto his arm I ask, “are you okay?”

  Liam whirls around, his strong and powerful body towering over me. I tighten my jacket around me as fear snakes its way down my spine. With his face scrunched in anger, he stares down at me like he’s on the verge of exploding, prompting me to take a wary step back. He glares down at me, and I cower away from the hate swirling in his eyes.

  “If you know what’s good for you, Bea, you’ll let go of me.”

  I instantly let go of his arm like he burned me. My heart pounds violently in my chest and there’s a heavy, uneasy feeling in my stomach that makes it hard to think straight.

  “Are you mad at me?” I ask, not understanding what’s going on. His eyes burn holes through my skull, his animosity towards me radiates in the air around us.

  “I’m so fucking pissed, Bea,” he hisses. “You…God you had me fooled,” he laughs without humor. “You had us all fooled. You’re nothing but a liar.”

  I stumble back, his words like a blow to the face. My stomach drops and my heart squeezes painfully.

  “I-I don’t understand,” I whisper, shaking my head ever so slightly. Tears threaten, but I swallow past them.