Hurt Like Me

by P. A. Brokenshire

  Marco agreed to pick me up and take me back to my apartment, but he was at least forty minutes out. I decided to wait at the end of the drive. Better to sit out in the ditch then be stuck here with Chris and his disappointment. I'd put him, Laura, and Robert through enough over the years. Stealing, lying, addiction, and prison. They didn't deserve it. I should have gone anywhere else, but when I had left John's place my feet had started walking here out of habit.

  We walked back down to the kitchen and I grabbed a shopping bag for my dirty clothes. Chris turned his wedding band nervously, fidgeting. He didn't know it, but that was a sore spot for me. Not his marriage, but his wedding. I hadn't shown up for the reception. I'd been blitzed out of my mind.

  "I'm a shit brother these days." I said, gesturing to his ring finger. "I should have sent a gift or card. Shit, I didn't even call to say congratulations."

  "It's okay." Chris mumbled, looking at anything except me.

  "It's not."

  I left it at that. It wasn't okay. Nothing about my life was okay. I stopped delaying the inevitable and walked out onto the porch without another word. Chris didn't follow me anymore. He didn't run after me or offer me a ride. A part of me had known that he was done trying. Maybe that's why I hadn't bothered to reach out for months. Seeing it though, that hit hard.

  Marco picked me up on the main road and dropped me off at the apartment. I was right. Derek threw all my shit into the hallway outside. It wasn't much, Just a bag of clothes, toothpaste, toothbrush. I ran through a list in my head, but there was no one to call. Marco had already left and everyone I knew wanted nothing to do with me. Either that or I wanted nothing to do with them.

  It was getting late, and I was too tired to do anything. I was quickly running out of the energy to care. I grabbed my bag and found the nearest patch of trees to camp out in. I was lucky it was still summer and not the dead of winter. With a sigh I spread out a couple old shirts and before long I slipped into a restless sleep.

  The hand on my arm gripped me so tight I felt my blood rush. No one would ever see the bruises under my long shirts and pants. I wasn't supposed to move. She had told me to sit on the back step, but I just wanted to play with the other kids. Chris got to play. The party was in full swing in the backyard. Mom had even gotten him a bounce house for his 8th birthday. There were kids from Chris' school, kids my age.

  "I swear to God if you don't go sit down right now, you will very much regret it," she said, the words dripping out of her mouth like acid. It was quiet enough that the other parents wouldn't notice. People never came to our house. I knew that I could get away with things with them around. She was right though, I would regret it, but not until tonight. Not until the house got dark and quiet.

  Another kid came running up to me. A boy that I had been jumping with before she had caught a hold of me. I forgot his name.

  "Do you want to play tag?" He asked, his eyes shining. I nodded enthusiastically and mom had to let go. Other parents were watching.

  It was worth it. It was worth the sharp bite of the belt. My skin burned with every lash, but my heart burned too, with pride. I had won today, if only for a little while.

  I awoke sometime after the sun came up covered in sweat with the shakes. My stomach flipped and I dry heaved into the grass. I tried to remember what those stupid counselors had said about breathing and meditation to cope with the withdrawal.

  "You're weak."

  I sat up against a tree and pushed off the intruding voice by biting my lip, instead focusing on my dream. I remembered that day, how it had felt to beat her in her own game. She home schooled me to keep me out of the public eye and I never left the house. That day though she had brought the world to me and I had taken the risk. It had been worth it.

  I had spent my entire life trying to escape her. Even after she was gone. Now I had nothing to shut her up. I was out of money and contacts. No booze, no drugs, no girls. Worse so, I didn't want them. Something cracked inside of me. I wanted to be better, to make a change, but I didn't know where to start. My hands shook so much from the withdrawal that I had to push them in my pockets to get them to stop.

  My right hand hit paper.

  He had said to call if I needed him. Had he meant it? He certainly looked like he had meant it and before Avery had come out of her room, he had been nice to me. I just needed a place to detox for a few days, someone who wouldn't put up with my shit like Laura or Robert, or lock me out like Chris. I checked my phone. It was down to 5% battery, so close to death. I could feel that on a deep level. That's how I felt, like I was on my last bit of battery. I dialed the number.

  Chapter 15

  Avery- 1 year ago

  I went with Dad to the lumberyard early in the morning on Tuesday to stock up for his jobs for the rest of the week. He'd taken two days off to spend time with me. We'd hung out at home the previous day, watching movies after Garrett left, but he couldn't afford to take too much time off. The guys counted on him to make a paycheck. The nice part about him owning a business was that I could tag along and usually those errands were a good chance for us to spend time together outside the house. Now he was quiet though and I wasn't entirely sure, but I had a feeling that Garret had something to do with it. Ever since he left yesterday Dad had been stewing in his thoughts. Any time there was a quiet moment, his brows would furrow in that deep thinking way of his. I knew he felt guilty that Garrett still hadn't called.

  "He's not going to call," I said, finally voicing what I was thinking when I saw his brows tighten for the billionth time as he leaned onto the lumber cart. I was sick of the silence, of watching him over analyze everything. "Garrett doesn't take help from people."

  He gave me a side eye as he turned a corner.

  "Maybe he just needs the right person to offer."

  I rolled my eyes, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. I should have put it up in a ponytail.

  "You know a lot of the guys on my crew started out just like him. Everyone deserves a second chance."

  Not everyone. Not Garrett.

  "I could actually use a new guy since Zach left at the beginning of the summer."

  "No!" I snapped, coming to a dead stop in the aisle. Dad almost ran into me with the cart. "Garret was an asshole in high school. He got himself messed up in all the bullshit despite a good family, money, and women drooling over his pretty face. You and I know that it takes a lot of fucking up in this town with his kind of connections. He deserves whatever shit bed he's made himself."

  "Avery Louise Finley!"

  Even though I was a 27-year-old woman the sound of my full name made me flinch. I'd never been so crass with my father. I might have slipped up a time or two in my adult years, but not like that.

  "I thought you had more compassion than that."

  He made your daughter wear a leash and masturbate with his thigh so that people could record it! I wanted to scream those words, but I held my tongue. That was something I had no intention of telling him about. I'd somehow managed to hide everything from him about that night. I'm not sure how the rumors hadn't made it back to him, but he'd never mentioned it and I didn't have the heart to tell him what I had done- that I had enjoyed it.

  "I am compassionate," I said, and that was the problem. I never should have asked him to take him in. I should have left Garrett on the side of the road to rot. "It's just...he's a jerk, Dad."

  "And? So are a lot of people on the crew. He isn't the first lowlife junkie I've taken under my roof." He wheeled the cart around me and brought it to a bin full of 2 x 4s. He started loading them up. "And you suggested I take him home, I might add."

  He threw what I had been thinking straight in my face. I had suggested it and I wanted to kick myself for it now. It probably would have been the same way if I had found a rabid dog on the side of the road. Honestly, I was too damn nice for my own good and Dad was just as bad. He couldn't help it. He wanted to save the world. But Garrett? Garrett was the last person he should save.

&nbs
p; "Whatever. You won't have to worry about it because he won't call."

  He was probably already high and balls deep in some girl. That pissed me off. It definitely shouldn't. My body had never come to terms with the fact that I had very much enjoyed myself with him. It didn't help that every sexual experience I'd had since paled in comparison. I had tried unsuccessfully in college to fuck him out of my memory, but not a single guy, or girl for that matter, could manage to make me forget about that night. Garrett was not average, in size or sex appeal or appetite. I'd watched way too much filthy porn and read smut that would make a whore blush. Garrett was the real-life version of all those men I'd read and watched.

  "Maybe he will, maybe he won't," he said with a shrug. "But if he does, I'm not going to turn him away, Fin."

  I wanted to stomp my feet and scream like a toddler. This week was supposed to be about me. Not about Garrett. I hated myself for being so damn childish, but Garrett brought out the worst in me. I doubted 9 years had made him any less of a snake. It would be Dad's fault if he got bit. I'd learned my lesson the hard way.

  After we dropped off the supplies at Dad's warehouse, he took me out to breakfast, and we made small talk about my work and unfortunately my nonexistent dating life. I had a blind date with some guy when I got back home. My boss, Alexa, had set me up with some guy from the building. I wasn't looking forward to it, but if I was being honest, I really needed to get over this dry spell I was having. It had been almost 2 years since I had bothered to go on a date and almost as long without even a hook up.

  "What's the guy's name?"

  "Michael," I said, buttering my bread.

  Dad laughed, that big booming laugh of his, and I felt my heart lighten a bit from our earlier argument. He knew I hated that name ever since the episode of Inflictions where a guy named Michael drove Xavier off the road. He had been in a coma for the rest of the season. Worst season of Inflictions ever. The final season made up for it though. God, I missed that show.

  "Alexa said that he works in one of the attorney firms in the building."

  "A lawyer?" Dad said with a disgusted look.

  "Oh, shut up," I chastised him playfully, taking a bite of toast. "Alexa says he's nice. I have to at least give him a chance. Don't I?"

  Dad didn't get the opportunity to respond. His phone went off. He had one of those old ringtones that everyone could hear in a 30 ft radius. I winced as all eyes turned in our direction.

  "For the love of all that's holy, can't you change that ringtone?"

  His gray eyes met my green ones with a glare. He hated being called out on his ringtone. Dad was set in his old ways. He didn't even check the number, just picked up the call. There was silence for a few moments on my end until he answered whoever was on the other side of the phone.

  "I'm glad you called."

  My stomach dropped.

  "Yeah, we can come get you."

  I dropped my toast onto my plate, my appetite had disappeared. I just wanted one week with my dad and Garrett had to show back up from the shadows to ruin it. Leave it to him to ruin everything. My senior year, my sex life, my vacation time with my father. Fucking Garrett. I groaned inwardly as my brain quickly conjured up thoughts of exactly that. My desire to fuck Garrett is exactly what ruined my life.

  Dad wrote down directions on a napkin as he waved down the waitress to pay our check. The food that was in my stomach felt like lead. I wasn't ready to spend days with Garrett.

  "Maybe I should get a hotel," I said, climbing into the truck. Dad gave a heavy sigh.

  "If that's what you want to do, he'll probably be detoxing for the rest of your trip though. I know you don't like him, but the kid seems harmless. I doubt you'll even come in contact with each other."

  Dad was right. I didn't have much interaction with him for the next few days. I did hear him whimpering and groaning a lot. Mainly when he was sleeping. It was all pretty muffled, like he was trying his best to be quiet. Still, it was hard not to feel bad for him on the few occasions I could hear him muttering curses at 2 am.

  Dad gave him a lot of his meals and I managed to avoid spending any time with him until my last couple days. Even then it was mostly just meals where he would drag himself from his room. He didn't talk much. Hell, he wouldn't even look at me, like I was the one who had tormented him. Those meals were the worst- trying to hold my tongue over roast beef or cereal and ignoring the urge to kick him under the table. It was a hell of a lot easier to hate him when he started looking more like himself and less like a wounded animal.

  One particular evening I nearly stabbed him with a fork when he commented on my dad's lasagna. He actually offered to give him an old family recipe for tomato sauce and said that my dad's was kind of bland. My dad just nodded at the suggestion and agreed that it could use some work like it was normal to be critiqued at your own dinner table. I didn't understand why he couldn't just appreciate the food that he'd been given without being a jerk. That was Garrett though, always the asshole. Why couldn't Dad see that?

  On the last day of my trip, I woke up to the sound of him and my dad watching something on television together. They were in a full-on conversation about some sports nonsense that went straight over my head. Garrett went silent the moment I walked into the room like I had ruined his precious bonding time with my father. He was sitting on my spot on the couch, sprawled out like he belonged there. I wanted to strangle him.

  "Oh! Morning, Fin. Are you all ready for your flight?"

  I gave a nod. I was more than ready to get the hell out of there. Garrett was going to start work with my dad the following day and the thought of the two of them spending all their time together made me want to be as far away as possible. I didn't like how chummy they had become. I hoped selfishly that he would be gone by Christmas and I would be able to spend a real vacation with my father. I wasn't so lucky. Garrett wasn't gone by Christmas or New Year’s or my birthday. I could barely call my father without him talking about the golden boy recovering addict. If only he knew. Only I didn't have the heart to tell him. Instead, I kept my distance and let myself be overshadowed by the darkness that was Garrett.

  Chapter 16

  Garrett- Present

  "Come back here!"

  Flinching, I scrubbed at my skin until it turned red and raw, the steam choking me. The shower was too hot for most people to handle, but I let it burn. The pain felt good. It bought me clarity and helped to erase some of the terrors from the night before.

  I dug my nails into the closest spot of skin- a muscled thigh covered in soap. Something to bring me back to the present.

  "Stop being such a shit!"

  I flinched again at the memory, pressing my nails in harder. I usually tried not to break skin, but today I failed. Blood dripped down my leg where my nails had been. My dick swelled and I laughed, ignoring my body's fucked up reaction to the pain. A true masochist. It was only when my body finally recognized the pain as pleasure that the memories would fade. That is how I knew it was working. Deep breaths seared my lungs and I started to count. 1, 2, 3, 4...I continued counting as I rinsed my hair and shut off the water.

  "395," I said to myself as I toweled my body dry and clutched onto the counter where the sink was chipped.

  The mirror was steamed over to the point that I couldn't see. Just the way I liked it. I already knew what I looked like. My muscles had filled back out from working on the construction site. I felt like myself again. Still, I couldn't look into my own eyes. Not this early in the morning. I needed time to get into the right mindset. I started counting again as I brushed my teeth. One more go around.

  "Leaving in 10," John said, knocking on the bathroom door as I spit out my toothpaste.

  145, 146, 147... With the towel wrapped tightly around my hip, I made my way down the short hall to my room. My eyes briefly wandered to her room on instinct. Dark shelves, books, deep green and black and chaos. My room was small and plain in comparison. No more than a bed and a stack of wire drawers to
hold my clothes. But it was my space. A space that John had given me. I hadn't earned it. I didn't know if I ever would.

  I dressed quickly and without fanfare. Running my hand through my hair, I stuffed my one-year chip in my pocket and took one last deep breath before stepping back into the hall. I walked straight to the kitchen. 393, 394, 395....395 days.

  "Can you take the recycle out?" John asked, but the bag was already in my hand by the time he finished his sentence.

  He gave me a slight nod of appreciation as he finished his coffee and grabbed our tool belts. I tried to ignore the jingle of bottles as I carried the bag to the bin out front. 395 days sober and the sound still tempted me, but John didn't baby my addictions. He refused to give up his nightly bottle of beer, often holding his bottle up to cheers my empty hand before touching it to his scruffy lips as we ate dinner. He was a smart ass like that.