Elliott appeared behind my eyelids again. “Shit.”
“What the hell’s with you tonight?”
I shook my head as I popped open the door. “Nothing. Thanks for smoking me out, Brody.”
He said something, but I was already out and swinging the door closed. Tom was passed out in the recliner, an old football game from the 1980’s casting blue shadows on him, beer cans surrounding him.
I didn’t even look at the computer when I entered my room.
Although the pain in my tooth and throat had lessened, there seemed to be an ache somewhere deep inside of me, roughly the size and shape of Elliott Dalton.
It was ridiculous and I hated that it hurt.
I was so stupid. Why did I think that I could break all my own fucking rules without consequences? I’d been setting myself up for this for many, many weeks now.
I was so stupid.
I could not believe that I had done the things I did with him. That dance! That silly dance should have never happened and certainly not the hand-holding of the past week or so. What the hell had I been thinking?
I had even fallen asleep on him more than once.
I’d let myself trust him and it was just messed up because now look. I was all hurt and damn-near in tears over some high school guy.
This was exactly why I’d tried so hard not to be ‘friends’ with anyone. It didn’t matter who they were or what they said to your face, people were out to screw each other over.
Now what was I supposed to do? Who the hell was I supposed to sit with during Study Hall and lunch now? I couldn’t stand to sit with Andrea anymore because Anderson sat at the same table. Every time I thought about or saw Chris Anderson, I was reminded that he’d banged me. His disgusting, twisted dick had been inside of me.
Damn!
I should have never told Elliott what had happened. Yeah, momentarily it felt good to share that shit with someone. I wouldn’t lie and say that I wasn’t happy that Elliott had beat the shit out of him at least partially because of what he did, but now look at what happened. Other people knew. All because I opened my big mouth.
And for what? Comfort? I’d never needed that shit before. This whole thing was messed up.
Brody’s weed wasn’t all that great. It was Mexican brick weed that’d travelled way too far and was meant for people who didn’t know any better or had no money for the good shit. The buzz only lasted about a half-hour.
Now I was stuck.
Tears pricked at the edges of my eyes until I could no longer contain them.
Shhhh. No tears, beautiful Sophie.
I shook my head, not wanting his fucking voice inside of it.
Shhhh, stop crying. It doesn’t hurt that bad.
My eyes were shut tightly as my stomach churned at the words that reverberated in my brain.
Don’t worry, dirty girl, your mom’s gone. It’s just me and you. She can’t hurt you when you’re with me.
Why wouldn’t this just end? My body was so tight it ached as endless tears fell.
My mind raced as I tried to remember if I had stashed anything around my room. I was pretty sure all the weed Jason last sold me was gone. I couldn’t risk the resin smell and I’d flushed the pills down the toilet in my moment of mental insanity. Stupid me, trying to be good for Elliott.
I told you to come here.
I sank down the wall next to my computer and clutched at my head and hair as if the pain of tugging on it would be enough to drown out that asshole’s voice.
It wasn’t.
Do you want me to tell your mother, dirty girl?
I threw up in my trashcan.
What do you think she’ll do to you when she finds out what you’ve done and how dirty you are?
After I cleaned the trashcan and myself up in the bathroom, I took three Extra-Strength Tylenol PMs and an hour later, my body was heavy and my mind was quiet.
But I still couldn’t sleep.
I stared at the corner next to my door until dawn broke.
It was nearly noon when knocking woke me up. I hadn’t realized that I’d finally fallen asleep.
“What?” I croaked none too nicely.
“Work’s on the phone.”
Shit.
“Tell them I’m sick.” There was no way that I was going in there today.
“Are you?” Tom asked.
“Who fucking cares? Just tell them I’m not coming in.”
Around two, I called Jason to see if he was there. Thankfully, he answered the phone.
“Holy shit, it’s Sophie Young. Nice of you to call,” he said, his voice saturated with sarcasm with a bitter twist.
“Come pick me up.” I heard him sigh. “Please? I need you.”
He was silent for a moment and then asked, “You need me?”
“Yes,” I pleaded, hating how absolutely needy I sounded.
“You don’t need me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Don’t you mean, you need some weed?”
That was true, but Jason had the weed and thus, I needed him. “No.”
“You need me?” he asked again.
“Yes.”
“Not Elliott?”
My teeth clenched at the name and I stopped myself from snarling at him. “No.”
“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
Forty minutes later, I sat next to Jason inside the car. The heat was blasting, but I was still freezing
“How was the detention center?”
“Same as last time,” he said with a shrug. “One big pissing match.”
I turned to him and studied his black eye. “Is that from Anderson?”
“Nah. That prick couldn’t land a punch to save his life.”
“Why did you fight with him?”
Jace rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “It was all over school, Soph. He told everyone how he fucked you in the bathroom. And that night you were all fucking weird and said you passed out or whatever. I beat the shit out of him because what he did was messed-up and it kind of sucks that you’re all shocked that I’d do that for you.”
He was sitting, leaning forward with his arms draped over the steering wheel. I didn’t know what to say, so I turned my eyes back to the foggy window.
“I’ve known you since before I can remember. Tom used to tell us that you’d be coming up and I’d get all excited because I’d get to spend time with you.”
I ignored Jason’s little declaration of excitement over my past visits to Damascus and asked, “You didn’t tell Tom, did you?”
“Tell him what?”
“About Anderson.”
He sighed and I wished he’d break out the fucking weed already.
“Of course I didn’t tell your dad. I didn’t say shit to anyone.”
It was more than I could say for Elliott.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
Silence loomed until I had to ask. “Can we smoke?”
His face was blank for a moment before he smiled. “Yeah. I didn’t offer because … well, last time you said … I mean, with Dalton and all.”
“Yeah, well, screw that, right?”
I watched impatiently as he rolled a perfect joint with some terrific-looking pot.
Later I found myself back at his house, pressed up against his bedroom door with his mouth attached to my neck.
He felt so good.
My feet were planted on the floor and he was sort of bent over me, one hand gripping my hip as the other palmed my breast. Jason was panting, his breath tickling my skin. He pulled away just slightly. He was telling me how much he’d missed me. I just let his words
bounce off of me. I didn’t want to hear him; I just wanted to feel him.
I reached for him, sneaking my hand down the front of his jeans to really grab him. “Shit,” he must have said, but to my ears, it was “shhhh.”
My breath caught and I felt sick.
Quiet, Sophie.
His hands kept moving even as I froze. One hand was up my shirt, the other making its way down my pants. My eyes were shut, and if I could’ve opened them, I would have searched the corners for spiders because I knew it wouldn’t be fair to him if I stopped.
I felt like throwing up.
“Jesus, Sophie.” His teeth scraped at my neck. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
So beautiful.
I pulled my hand back from him and pushed at his chest. He didn’t stop, so I pushed him harder, my hands higher, fingernails scratching his neck.
“Dammit! What the hell’s fucking wrong with you?”
I slipped away from him and stepped down the hall. “I have to go.”
He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Is it your goddamn life’s mission to fuck with me?”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Hot tears leaked from me and I couldn’t stop them.
“Shit,” he said, his voice much softer. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
I shook my head, looking down at my feet. This shit was so messed up. “I don’t know.”
But that was a lie. I did know what was wrong with me. It was what had always been wrong with me.
Jace reached out as if he was planning on cupping my face in his big hand, but I jerked my head away. “Soph,” he said, his face portraying his hurt.
“I’m never going to like you the way you like me, Jason.” I shook my head and moved away. “I’ll never be your girlfriend.”
“But you’re Dalton’s?”
I didn’t know if I was anymore, but I wanted to be. “It’s just different with Elliott.”
We were silent for a long while, just standing there in the hallway. Finally, he stood up straight and sighed. “Do you need a ride home?”
I shrugged. “The bus’ll be by soon.”
I cried all the way home. While there were only a few people on the bus, they all eyed me cautiously. Jason was the furthest thing from my mind now.
I cried all night, except when I shouted at Tom. He wouldn’t stop asking me what was wrong, as if I knew or could adequately communicate it.
I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion around five on Sunday morning. I woke five hours later. Tom made me eat sausage and eggs. It took everything I had not to puke it all back up. His eggs were runny and the sausage oily.
I sat staring at my computer for several hours before allowing myself to turn it on. The emptiness pooled and welled inside of me. I could no longer feel anything but the void and as he spoke to me again, telling me that he wouldn’t tell my mother if I showed him how dirty I could be, I could do nothing but listen.
As I opened my e-mail, I realized that even though I was mad at Elliott, I needed him.
I missed him, yes, but I was going insane without talking to him, without looking at him, without touching him.
There were two e-mails from Elliott. I had to read them.
The first one was simple.
I’m sorry, Sophie. I didn’t mean to tell Robin something private like that, but they needed to understand why I did what I did to Anderson. They needed to know that he deserved it and that it was a worthy cause for violence.
I’m so sorry.
Please don’t be mad. At least don’t be mad for long.
I need you.
Elliott
I decided I had to let go of my anger. I had to go see him. I needed to be near him because his presence made me feel better and he needed me too.
His second e-mail was shorter.
Sophie,
Please don’t be mad. Don’t leave.
Your silence hurts.
Elliott
I felt like complete shit, because honestly, I could understand why he told Wallace and Dr. Dalton. It wasn’t like he had a choice or could lie about it all. He wasn’t a good liar and he’d probably gotten picked on by Anderson for years and never stood up for himself. It would make sense that they needed some kind of explanation for what happened.
I was an ass. I’d yelled and called him a hypocrite. I was mean to him.
I was mean to the nicest person I knew, all because I didn’t like what he’d done.
Yes, he could have told me he’d said something to them. Yes, it wasn’t his information to tell, but it was horrible of me to beat him up over it. I hated being without him. It hurt and I didn’t like it.
Being with Elliott was like being warm. It was calm and peaceful. It was natural.
It was late afternoon when Jane let me into her house. We were at the foot of the stairs and I was about to go up to Elliott’s bedroom, but she stopped me. “Did you and Elliott fight?”
Jane’s eyes were locked with mine. She wanted me to answer, but I stayed silent.
“Sophie,” she tried, her voice soft. “He typically gets weird during the holidays, but it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”
“What do you mean, ‘he gets weird’?”
Jane shook her head and shrugged. “He just gets weird.”
I sighed, realizing that she probably wouldn’t tell me Elliott’s business even if she knew. “Can I see him now?”
“Um,” she said nervously as she glanced up the stairwell. “He’s … I mean right now is probably not the best time.”
“Why?”
Her head cocked to the side and again her eyes traveled up the stairs. “He was really upset and wouldn’t talk to anyone. You have to understand that with Elliott there’s a point where nothing will work and those panic attacks are horrible.”
“He’s upset and what about panic attacks?”
Jane’s whole body sighed and she bit her lower lip. “Stephen sedated him.”
“What?”
“There’s just not a lot of choice when he’s like that. It’s … it’s scary because he can’t breathe and his body’s all …” Jane looked down. “It’s just scary, Sophie, and I don’t know if it’s a good time for you to see him.”
“Well, I need to see him.”
“Sophie, I …”
“Look, thanks for telling me that he’s sedated or whatever, but I’m going to go see him because I’m not mad at him anymore and I need to talk to him.”
I took two steps up and then looked back at Jane. She looked resigned that I was going up to Elliott’s room, so I continued on my path. When I got to his door, I momentarily wanted to be very high, but I remembered quickly that he didn’t like that and it wouldn’t help the situation. Instead, I took a deep breath, knocked softly, and waited.
I’d never seen him sedated before. Hell, I’d never even known he needed sedation.
The door slowly opened.
He stood there in front of me, wearing only loose black pajama bottoms, his brow creased on his otherwise blank face. I’d never seen him like this. He was only partially dressed and even in the low light, I could see how well-defined his upper body truly was. He was wiry, yet muscular.
“Hi,” I greeted softly. What else could I say?
Elliott didn’t say anything, so I fidgeted. I realized that I had messed up. I had messed up big and I was nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t forgive me. I’d said mean things to him.
His body blocked my entrance and I supposed that I shouldn’t have assumed that he’d let me in. But I had to try. I couldn’t resolve anything with him by standing out in the hallway while Jane blatantly listened at the foot of the stairs, and I was sure Dr. Dalton and perhaps Wallace were probably listening in from another room. �
�Can I come in?”
Again, he was silent. His only reaction was a minute deepening of his furrowed brow. Shit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” I sounded just like every other asshole in the world. I didn’t deserve to be in his space, but still, I tried. “Please?”
Elliott’s face never changed its expression. He just backed away from the door, swallowed hard, and let me in. I closed the door behind me and watched as his eyes moved to the door knob. I turned the lock and saw him relax just a little. He turned and moved toward the bed. That was when I saw his back for the first time.
I couldn’t help but gasp, my breath catching in my throat dramatically. Before I realized it, I was reaching out in front of me, my fingers just grazing his skin. Elliott stiffened as he felt the brush of my fingertips over the raised flesh, but kept moving toward the bed. His back was a sea of scars, raised bits of skin in winding patterns and familiar shapes. My eyes had yet to find a patch of skin that hadn’t been marred.
The darkness of his room did nothing to hide the obvious mutilation of his body. The glaring reality hit me like a swift kick to the gut.
Someone had done that to Elliott.
Suddenly the shy, awkward kid with a speech impediment who’d knocked into me on my first day of school was now much less of an enigma. Without a word spoken, I knew instantly who Elliott was in a way that no other student at school would ever know.
I wanted to cry.
I couldn’t help but think, as I stood motionless watching him sit down against the headboard and pull his knees up to his chest, that Elliott probably wouldn’t have shown his back to just anyone. Jane said he was sedated and I could tell that he was, but there was no way, with or without drugs, that he would show me his scars unless he wanted to.
Now really looking at his chest, the part that wasn’t covered by his knees and arms, I saw that it too was scarred by healed wounds. “Jesus, Elliott,” I let out before pressing my lips together.
“Who did that to you?”
I hadn’t really expected him to answer, so I wasn’t shocked when he didn’t. Carefully, I sat down on the bed, facing him. He looked so incredibly sad and I felt so amazingly guilty. I had no right to be in his room, but I had to remind myself that he wouldn’t have let me in if he didn’t want me in here.
N K Smith - [Old Wounds 03] Page 3
