by S. M. Soto
“I need to meet with Emery, someone that…” He tails off and growls. “Fuck it. I can’t do this shit right now.” He brushes past me, his shoulder slamming into me before he hops back into his truck peeling out of the driveway. I stand there with my heart shattered on the pavement into a million pieces. Silent tears flow down my face in a steady stream.
I’m just about to head home when, Myrah pops out of her house. Her brows dip in worry when she sees me crying.
“Hey, is everything okay? I thought I heard Liam’s truck out here. I made him dinner.”
I don’t say anything, instead I just stare at my best friend trying to wrap my head around what the hell just happened.
“Bea?”
Turning toward her, I wipe away my tears with the backs of my hands. “He was here, but he just left. I-I…I think he’s angry with me.” My lips tremble just voicing those words. Myrah’s eyes widen and she stares at me in shock. Suddenly, she shakes her head giving a little laugh.
“Bea, there’s no way he’s mad at you. This is Liam we’re talking about. Why the hell would you think that?”
“H-he looked like he couldn’t even stand to look at me. He looked at me like he was…disgusted.”
Myrah freezes at my words and furrows her brows, at a loss for words. My chest caves with pain, and I push the heel of my palm into my sternum, trying to relieve the ache.
“Do you know where he went?”
My tears come faster. “He said he had to go see Emery…I-I—”
“He went back to San Francisco? After driving all the way here from there? What the hell…” she trails off.
“What did I do?” I whisper with tears clogging my throat.
“Let’s have dinner,” she says sympathetically. “We’ll figure it out.” She grabs my hand, leading me inside.
We eat the lasagna Myrah made in silence. Over the course of the meal Myrah tries to strike up a conversation but I’ve been too busy trying to figure out what happened with me and Liam to follow along.
Is he angry at me for not letting him handle Connor the way he wanted to? It can’t be that, can it?
I’m plagued with questions and possible answers for the remainder of the night. Myrah tries to get my mind off the whole situation by putting on a movie and plying me with sugary snacks. It doesn’t work.
Over the course of the night I’ve caught her texting furiously on her phone, violently tapping out messages. I know she’s texting Liam, and even though I’m dying to know what’s being said, I’m almost too afraid to ask what they’re talking about. I need to know what’s made him so angry at me, but the stirring in my stomach tells me I don’t really want to know.
“Is that Liam?” I finally muster up enough courage to ask her during the movie we’re watching. She’s been texting away for the past twenty minutes and it’s starting to drive me insane. Her face drops a little at my question. I immediately know whatever it is she’s going to say is going to sting.
“He's out with Emery. I guess he drove back to San Francisco to meet with some people, then meet up with her. They’re riding back here together sometime tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Is the only thing I’m capable of saying.
I close my eyes against the agonizing pain radiating in my chest. Images of Emery and Liam together cause my heart to fissure and my eyes water with tears.
“He made it big. Did you know?”
I shake my head, trying to ignore the twisting pain in my heart that makes it hard to breathe.
Swiping under my eyes, I force a smile for her sake, encouraging her to go on. I want her to tell me more, but I don’t know if I can handle hearing anything more about Emery. Even though we’ve kissed, and gotten…closer, I still feel like I’m competing for his love with a beautiful girl who also happens to be his best friend.
“Yeah, he made it pro for baseball. He plays for the San Francisco Giants. They call him the Gunner.” Myrah types Liam's name into Google and sure enough, there's his picture and every detail about him known to man. He's famous.
Something wet splashes onto Myrah’s screen and I realize it's my tears.
“Oh, Bea. I'm sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don't be. I'm not upset. I'm just...I'm so proud of him. He did it. He really did it,” I whisper in awe, scrolling though photo after photo of him on the field, in his uniform, with his teammates.
It's all so surreal.
“Yeah, he did,” she says with pride in her voice.
I don’t know how long we sit there scrolling through photos of Liam on Google. I thank my lucky stars he isn’t photographed with any women. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.
“I can’t believe he hasn’t told you yet.” Myrah says, bringing my attention back to her. “He always said once he went pro, he would come back for you and make things right. I just don’t understand why he hasn’t said anything. This was your guys’ dream.”
I look away from her, focusing my gaze out the living room window. I can’t help but think he didn’t tell me about going pro because he doesn’t feel the same way he used to. Things are different now—I’m different. It’s been six long years, and I don’t blame him for wanting something better. I only wish it didn’t hurt so much.
“Don’t think about it too much, B. He leaves for spring training sometime at the end of next month. That’s probably why he’s been in such a bad mood. I don’t think he wants to leave.”
Over the last few months with Liam, we never once stumbled on the subject of his career. I had no idea he was a pro baseball player. The thought never even occurred to me. I know that when we were just kids, he always wanted to be a baseball player, but I can’t believe he actually made it. I couldn’t be prouder.
He’s made a name for himself and did everything he always said he would. And me…I’m still here, in the same place I was almost seven years ago. I have no achievements under my belt, nothing to be proud of. The thought makes a fresh wave of tears spring to my eyes. I don’t want this life. Living with this burden on my chest is slowly killing me—it almost killed me when I made the decision to take my own life, but I couldn’t even do that right.
I shift my gaze to Myrah, my best friend. She’s so immersed in the movie we’ve been watching she doesn’t notice me staring. With her blonde hair, green eyes and full cheeks, she looks exactly the same as she did six years ago, only now her features have matured.
Memories of our time together over the years flicker behind my eyes. Every laugh and giggle, every secret, they all float before my eyes in quick succession reminding me why I had always deemed Myrah my best friend. She was trustworthy, loyal to a fault—she was the sister I never had. Clenching my eyes shut, I inhale a deep breath, preparing myself to do something I should’ve done a long time ago.
“Can I tell you something?” I turn to her with pleading eyes, “It can never leave this room, Myrah. Promise me.”
My heart pounds within the confines of my chest waiting for her to say yes. I want to tell her. Get it all out, but I'm afraid. Afraid of the ripple effect sharing this secret will have on so many lives. But most of all, I’m afraid of Connor finding out and keeping his word. I know he meant it when he said he would kill me. It wasn’t just an empty threat.
Myrah straightens in her seat, giving me her full attention at the tone of my voice. “Of course,” she says, tone deadly serious. “You don't even have to ask, Bea.”
I stare at my best friend. The girl I grew up with and wonder if I'm making the right decision. That nagging feeling in my gut tells me I’m making a huge mistake.
Blowing out a breath, I open my mouth, wanting the words to free me, but they stay trapped inside. Tears spring to my eyes the harder I try to force the words out. Myrah must notice my struggle because she slides closer and places her hand on top of my thigh, squeezing gently. The softness in her vibrant green eyes gives me pause.
“Six years ago…” I start to say, but the sentence, the start of those words l
eaves a bad taste in my mouth, so I try a different tactic.
Clenching my eyes shut, I dig my nails into my palms and force the words past my lips. “The first time Connor raped me was the night Liam left.”
I hear Myrah’s sharp intake of breath and when I open my eyes, I see the horror written all over her face. It rips my heart in half.
“He was…so strong. His body was so heavy. I just c-couldn’t make it stop.”
I don’t know when I started crying, but the tears continue to slide down my face and plop onto my hands resting in my lap.
“No,” Myrah breathes out, her face crumpling as she lets out a broken sob.
“I tried to fight him. I really did. I…I tried to scream, to bite, to make it stop, but I just…I couldn’t.”
“Bea…” She trails off, her voice sounding broken with heartbreak.
I force my gaze down, onto my lap and I tell her everything. From that first time Connor ever ruined me, till now. Tears slowly carve a trail down her cheeks the more I go into detail. I try to spare her most of the horrors. Having lived through them, I know they aren’t something anyone wants to willingly hear.
Myrah pulls me into her arms and holds me so tightly, I can barely breathe. We sob into each other’s arms, and in a way, I feel lighter. Sharing the burden of this secret with someone else hasn’t just magically healed me, but it is easier to breathe. That thought brings a smile to my face, reminding me I have Melody to thank for pushing me.
“I'm so sorry, Bea. I should've known. God, how could I not know?” Myrah cries, desperately clutching onto me. I wipe away my tears and squeeze her hands in my own giving her reassurance. There’s nothing she could’ve done if she didn’t know. The only person I can blame is myself.
“Why didn't you tell anyone before, Bea. Why?”
“Because I was afraid,” I say simply. “I still am. Connor isn't right in the head, Myrah. He's...sick.”
“The night you went on a date with Liam, and Jenny slapped you, did he…?”
Clenching my eyes shut, I ignore the crushing pain in my chest as I relive the memory.
“Yes,” I reply hoarsely, a hot tear sliding down my face. He ruined a night with Liam that made me feel beautiful. He ruined it all.
“I think he saw Liam kiss me goodnight on the porch and felt threatened. He pushed me into the mirror so hard the glass shattered. It wasn’t until he shoved me onto the bed that I realized I was bleeding. Jenny must’ve heard the glass breaking because she ran into the room and froze. It looked like someone had stabbed her in the heart, she was so hurt and angry, but I thought she would finally be able to help me.” A hot tear glides down my cheek as I recall the way she looked at me, with so much disgust and hatred. “I thought she was finally going to open her eyes and see. But I was so wrong.”
“How could she think you were okay with any of it? Didn’t she notice you were bleeding?” Myrah grinds out furiously. I shrug helplessly, not having an answer.
“He’s always told me I was trash. And that no one would want me when he was done with me. I tried not to believe any of it, but that night? It felt like he was telling the truth. The way Jenny looked at me…” My voice cracks, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears to slow.
“Listen to me, Bea.” The steel in Myrah’s voice prompts me to open my eyes, giving her my full attention. “You are not trash. You are a victim. You are a survivor, damnit.” She places her palms over the scars on my wrists and stares me straight in the eye. “So, don’t you dare believe anything that bastard says. You’re pure, inside and out. I don’t care what anyone says.”
I fall into Myrah’s arms and sob for six years worth of abuse I had to endure at the hands of that sick bastard.
“I think you need to tell the police, Bea.”
Like being shocked with a current of electricity, I shoot away from Myrah, and shake my head frantically.
“No. No. I can’t do that. He’ll kill me, don’t you get it? He’ll kill me, Myrah,” I sob helplessly. Fighting back more tears, Myrah nods her head, and slowly reaches out to me, pulling me back into her arms.
“Shh. Okay. Okay. We don’t have to tell anyone. It’s okay, Bea, you’re safe now. I’ll keep you safe,” she whispers over and over. It’s like a mantra. I don’t know who she is trying to reassure of my safety, me or her.
We clutch onto each other for dear life, until the tears finally subside. Shuddering breaths wrack our bodies. I can feel her heart hammering in her chest, it’s almost beating as quickly as mine. Despair and melancholy are heavy in the air. It swirls around us, along with my life shattering secret.
“I should go.”
Myrah jolts violently, hopping to her feet with a look of astonishment plastered on her face. Tears drip from her lashes and plop down onto her heaving chest.
“You can't go back there!” she cries desperately. “Not with him. Are you insane, Bea?” Clenching my eyes shut, I will myself to stay strong. As much as I want to stay away from my house and Connor, I can’t. He can never know I told anyone. Especially not Myrah. He’d kill me, or worse, kill her.
“I have to,” I whisper sadly. My gaze drifts to the window, and my eyes train on my house. Connor is probably furious that I’m not home. Especially when our parents are there. I think he worries something will happen if he’s not there to control me all the time. It’s always worse when they’re back.
“I have to go. But I'll talk to you later, okay?”
“Bea...please,” she whispers hoarsely making my eyes brim with tears again. “Please don’t do this. Don’t go back in there. I’ll take care of you here, I won’t let him come near you, just please…don’t go back.”
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” I lie, trying to reassure her through my tears. “My mom is home, Myrah. I'll see you once we get caught up. She’s leaving again soon, so I know she’ll want to spend a whole day together, that’s her way of saying goodbye. I can’t afford to lose any more time with her.”
Myrah opens her mouth to argue, and I know if I hear what she says, I’ll cave. Hugging her to me tightly, I inhale her comforting scent, forcing myself to stand and walk out of her house, our safe-haven, back into hell.
After fourteen missed calls and thirty texts claiming urgency, I hurry home to Myrah. My cell was beeping and ringing off the hook while I met with my agent back home, so I shut it off, needing silence while we discussed my new contract of another three years with the Giants.
Once the meeting ended, I took Emery to dinner, completely forgetting about my phone. When I got back to my place, I was seriously debating staying here, and forgetting all about Lakeport. That video was the nail in the coffin for me. It was the closure I needed. Finding out why the girl you loved more than life itself cut all ties was such a heartbreaking pain, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’ve loved her for nine years. Nine fucking years.
The moment I laid eyes on Bea back in Lakeport I knew she was the one. I wanted to marry her, and one day father her children—if I was lucky enough. She made me want it all. I was ready to give her the world. But she didn’t just want the world, she wanted the fucking moon too. The hole in my heart and the ache in my chest were all constant reminders of the flash drive. It was official, Bea Norwood had ripped my fucking heart out, and I hated her for it.
After sleeping on it, I packed a fresh set of clothes instead of staying in San Francisco. Even though I was hurt and angry, I couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye to Myrah, it would hurt both of us too much. She deserved more than just a half-assed goodbye.
Just before leaving my house at a quarter to nine in the morning, I remembered to turn back on my phone and my stomach dropped when I saw all the missed calls and texts from my cousin. I was immediately imagining the worst case scenario.
There must be an emergency. That was the only explanation.
I rushed Emery into the truck and drove from San Francisco to Lakeport at a breakneck speed. My stomach churned violently the entire ride up, a
nd the twisting in my gut told me something was seriously wrong.
I race up the stairs of my cousin’s house with my heart lodged in my throat. Emery yells after me, but I tune her out needing to find Myrah. Throwing open her bedroom door I start to panic when I don’t see her. My heart crashes against my chest in fear.
I finally find her in the guest room sobbing, with a pillow clutched tightly to her chest. My pulse hammers in my ears as I listen to her mumbling through her tears.
“Sorry. I'm so sorry,” she cries over and over again. I kneel beside the bed, my body shaking with worry.
“Myrah, what's going on? Did something happen?”
I frantically search her curled body for any signs of distress but come up empty. At my question, she cries harder, her lungs heaving for breath.
“God, Liam, I should've known. I'm her best friend and I didn't fucking know!”
“Know what, Myrah? What didn't you know?”
“I'm so sorry, Bea,” she cries again making my heart stutter. My body freezes, and my chest fills with ice at the mention of her name. I’m still so angry with her for everything, but deep down, I know I took things too far. I shouldn’t have said those things to her before I left. If she wants to be with Connor, then that’s fine. That’s all the closure I need. The twinge of guilt in my gut tells me something bigger is wrong. I close my eyes, praying Bea didn’t hurt herself because of my outburst.
“Why are you apologizing to Bea? What happened?” I urge her, trying to push past the sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Where have you been?” Myrah suddenly screeches hysterically. Her eyes are wild, with tears running down her cheeks. “I called you hours ago!”
Guilt crushes my chest.
“It was my fault, Myrah. We went to dinner and it got late…” Emery says breathlessly from running up the stairs after me. Myrah shoots her a glare before turning back to me.
“I stayed the night back home,” I say calmly trying to placate her. “My phone was off Myrah, I’m sorry. Please tell me something. You’re scaring me.”
