The Day She Cried

by K. Webster

  I lie there, my pain running through me like a river, until the water once again goes cold.

  Rome

  I pace her room for what feels like hours. Thinking. Obsessing. Fucking worrying.

  A coping mechanism.

  Guilt slices through me, more painful than any cut I’ve ever inflicted upon myself. I can help her. I can stop this. Fuck. I’m still walking holes in her carpet when she emerges from the bathroom.

  Defeated.

  Sad.

  Fucking broken.

  Her towel is wrapped securely around her body and she won’t meet my stare. Screw this. I stalk over to her and scoop her into my arms. She’s tense at first but then relaxes. I carry her over to the bed, kicking off my tennis shoes along the way, and climb in with her. When I grab for her towel, she stops me with shaky words.

  “Please…”

  Please don’t?

  Please pretend this never happened?

  Please go away?

  Not waiting for her to finish her statement, I tug at the towel and reveal her naked torso to me. Lines. So many lines. Scarred flesh on her stomach. Neat rows. Some white. Some pink. Several still scabbed over. Her tits wobble with every ragged breath she takes. I hate how fucking thin and frail she appears now—as though she hasn’t eaten a thing in the past few days. Her skin is a pallid color and splotchy red from the heat of the shower.

  Sweet, perfect Courtney Moss is in trouble.

  She hides in plain view. Hides the monsters and the hate and the pain.

  “How long?” I demand.

  Her head turns away from me and she stares at the wall. “Not long after I was released from prison.” She pauses and lets out a sharp breath when my thumb rubs against her newest self-inflicted cut. “I didn’t know how to deal with the pain that clawed me from the inside. I wanted to free it. To let it escape. But I didn’t know how to. I sucked at coping with Raven’s death. Then it hit me. It’s how she coped.”

  My blood runs cold. “Raven wasn’t a cutter.”

  She snaps her gaze to mine. “She was.”

  I want to scream at Courtney. My sister wasn’t the cutter. It was me. I’m clenching my jaw to keep hateful words locked inside when she slips out of the bed. She disappears into the closet and returns wearing a T-shirt. When she crawls back into bed, she holds up a picture that’s been crudely cut.

  “She was,” she says again, her words soft. “I cut off the top of the picture because I couldn’t bear to see that look in her eyes any longer.” Her body trembles with sadness.

  I stare at the picture of a torso similar to Courtney’s. Despite Raven’s face not being in the picture, I know it’s my sister. I recognize her birthmark near her belly button.

  Cuts.

  So many cuts.

  How did I not know this? Many of the photos were referenced during the trial but not revealed. And honestly, if they were, I wasn’t paying attention. My hate for Courtney blinded me. I was so focused on her that I couldn’t pay attention to my attorney or anyone for that matter.

  “She learned it from me,” I choke out. Which means Courtney essentially learned it from me too. “Fuck.”

  Courtney shakes her head and wraps an arm around my middle. She rolls me to face her and then her sweet lips are on mine. I don’t understand how she could be trying to comfort me when all I’ve done is try to ruin her.

  What kind of fucking monster am I?

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter against her full lips. I don’t know if I’m telling her or Raven or myself. All I know is that I hate this feeling in my gut. I want Courtney and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.

  She’s suffering.

  That’s all I wanted.

  And now that I’ve seen it—now that I’ve felt it—I don’t like it.

  I fucking hate it.

  I want to be the one to make it better.

  “Courtney,” I murmur as my hand whispers over her throat. “I’m sorry.”

  She shakes her head and starts to cry. “Don’t say that. Please.”

  I silence her by deepening our kiss. My body rolls on top of hers and I crush her with my apologies. We’re both desperate to consume the other. Her fingers yank at my hair and my teeth nip at her lips. My dick is so hard that it’s poking into her wet cunt through my shorts. I quickly jerk my shorts down and enter her with a hard thrust.

  Instead of moving, though, I enjoy simply being connected to her. I lift up on an elbow to stare at her gorgeous face. Even pale and dark circles rimming her eyes, she’s beautiful. I rain kisses down all over her face, kissing each eyelid and the tip of her nose. I’ve been hateful to her—a motherfucking monster—and all I want to do is kiss away all of that. She doesn’t deserve it.

  “You’re teasing me.” She pouts.

  I laugh and my cock jerks inside of her. “Teasing you is fun, pretty girl.”

  Her eyes shine and a smile tugs at her mouth. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

  Guilt consumes me, but I play it off with a grin before attacking her lips. I kiss her hard in hopes to convey to her that I’m sorry. My hips buck against her and she claws desperately at me. I love how her body responds to mine, as though I’m the only one who could ever deliver her the pleasure she needs. I rub against her in a way that makes her clit respond. Soon, she’s quivering in my arms, her cunt clenching around me. I come hard and with a guttural groan. My hips thrust until I’m no longer hard inside her. Slipping out of her, I lie beside her and twirl her wet hair in my fingers.

  “Rome,” she murmurs, her brows crashing together. “I need to tell you something.”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t live my life obsessing over the shit I can’t control.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “This matters. You matter.”

  She lets out a sigh of relief and glues her body to mine. “The universe has a bad sense of humor.”

  I laugh and kiss her forehead. “That motherfucker should quit his day job.”

  Her body relaxes and we both drift off. Before I’m fully asleep, she mutters sleepily, “I’m afraid this will all disappear one day.”

  Squeezing her tighter to me, I silently argue with her.

  I won’t let this fucking disappear one day. You have my word, Courtney Moss.

  “No!” Courtney hollers as she chases Harvey Benjamin down the hall.

  “I told you he’s a dickhead when it comes to pizza!” I holler after her.

  She must lose the battle because she soon stomps back into the living room, her nose scrunched up. “Your dog is an asshole.”

  Laughing, I pat the sofa beside me. “Tell me something I don’t know. Come sit with me and I’ll feed that pouty mouth.”

  She grins and crawls into my lap. Fuck, she feels perfect in my arms. It’s been two weeks since I discovered she was cutting. Two weeks since we’ve found some middle ground. I come steal her away whenever she’s not working at that stupid diner. She’s been coming to the shop per usual, but I like it best when I have her alone at my house so I can ravish her uninterrupted.

  I hold up my pizza and feed her a bite. Since we’ve been “together,” she’s seemed so happy. All smiles and her face lights up when she sees me. I’ve never had someone so damn elated to be in my presence. It does wonders for my ego.

  “My mom is getting married,” she says as she chews. “To my boss.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  She nods. “He’s a nice guy. Really helped me out when…”

  I knew of Keith Hamby but never really got to know him even though Raven had worked at the diner.

  “Anyway,” she chirps and the tone is fake. “I’m happy for them. How much longer until you’ve fixed my car?”

  Now it’s my turn to be fake. I lie through my fucking teeth. “The transmission is totally fucked up. Needs to be flushed. Still working on it.”

  Her brows crash together. “I thought my motor was dead.”

  “It was. It’
s fixed. But that car has a mess of problems. You should probably just get a new one,” I say with a sigh.

  “I can’t. I’m saving up for something else.” Her eyes grow distant and she starts to slide out of my lap.

  I grip her waist and don’t let her go. “What?”

  Her cheeks turn bright pink. “College.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I got accepted.”

  “Where at?” My voice is strained because I don’t like the idea of her leaving me.

  “The community college.”

  A breath of relieved air escapes me. “They accept everyone,” I tease.

  Her throat bobs and she climbs out of my lap. She disappears into the kitchen. Confused by her sudden mood change, I get up and stalk after her. Her hands are on the counter at the sink and she stares down into it.

  “What’s the matter?” I demand as I step behind her and envelop her in a hug.

  She’s tense, and fuck, I think she’s crying.

  “Nothing. I’m happy. It’s great news.”

  “You act like you just got accepted to Harvard,” I mutter. “It’s community college.”

  She twists in my arms and attempts to shove me away. I grab her wrists, pinning her body to the edge of the counter with mine.

  “Out with it.”

  Her chin lifts in a defiant manner. “They accept convicted felons on approval only. There. Are you happy? To me, it is Harvard. It’s everything. I finally have a future. I’m not destined to work at the diner until I’m old and gray.”

  I release my grip and hug her to my chest. When she calms the fuck down, I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head. “What are you going to school for?”

  “Psychology.” Her voice is a whisper as though she’s embarrassed. “I want to help kids going through problems. Eating disorders. Depression. Self-harm.” She pauses. “I just want to help.”

  “Raven wanted to be a child psychologist.”

  “I know,” she says.

  I pull away from her and scowl. “You can’t breathe life back into her by taking over her old one.” As soon as the words leave my lips, guilt rages through me.

  She blinks rapidly at me as though I’ve struck her. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Courtney…”

  “Can you take me home?” Her eyes brim with tears and she drops her gaze.

  “No.”

  Her head jerks up. “W-What?”

  I shrug and release her. “I’m not taking you home.”

  “You’re going to make me walk?” she utters, shock in her words.

  “No. You’re not fucking going anywhere.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re not being very nice.”

  “I’m not a nice person.”

  I pull her into my arms and she relaxes. For a moment, all is right in our imperfect world.

  Me: Show me. I need something to get me through my work day.

  The dots move and I wonder if she’ll really send it.

  Courtney: PHOTO ATTACHED.

  Fuck me, the picture is hot. She’s lying on her bed, the sun shining in behind her through the window, and she’s naked. The sheet is delicately lying across her waist and her arm is stretched across her tits. You can’t see anything aside from the outer curves of her breasts, but it still gets me fucking hard.

  Me: Beautiful.

  Courtney: Thank you.

  Me: Are you smiling right now?

  Courtney: PHOTO ATTACHED.

  Her lips are curved up in a shy, playful smile. Goddammit, I’m obsessed with this woman.

  Me: Come to the shop. I need you.

  Courtney: I can’t. I promised my mom I’d run to the store since I’m using her car today. Then, I have to go pick her up from work.

  Me: Later? I want you at my house tonight and on my dick. Tell me when to pick you up.

  Courtney: You’re so demanding…

  Me: Why are you naked?

  Courtney: Why do you think?

  My dick goes rock hard in my jeans as I think about her touching herself.

  Me: Bad girl. You’re supposed to save all the fun for me.

  Courtney: Selfish boy.

  Me: Greedy is the word. And I’m a man not a boy who, right now, wants to throw you over his shoulder caveman style and lock you in his bedroom.

  Courtney: Anyone ever tell you that you have psychotic tendencies?

  Me: Mike tells me that all the time. You’re the future quack, though, so maybe you should give me a physical to diagnose me properly.

  Courtney: We’ll play doctor tonight. Pick me up after seven.

  It’s going to be a long damn day.

  Courtney

  I’m just pushing the shopping cart out of the grocery store when I nearly mow down Whitney. And it’s surprisingly by accident. She jumps out of the way and hisses at me.

  “Well, if it isn’t the convict, little Courtney Girl Killer.” Her nose wrinkles in disgust. Now I finally know how it feels to be on the receiving end of Whitney’s bitchiness. Not much worse than being her friend, oddly enough.

  “Screw you,” I bite out and start to move past her.

  She grabs the cart and puts her foot on the bottom to keep it from going anywhere. We’re standing just outside of the doorway and people have to step around us to go by.

  “Word on the street is you’re fucking the freak. I always knew you were a bottom feeder,” she bites out. “You proved that when you chose his equally weird-ass sister over our friendship.”

  Anger bubbles up inside of me. “Move.”

  “Or what? You’ll beat me up again?” she scoffs and flips her silky brown hair.

  “Your dad wanted to help her,” I bluff. I’m not sure why Raven had his card but maybe Whitney knows.

  For a moment, her eyes widen and her lips part. Then, her face contorts into a nasty expression. “My daddy wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”

  At that, I lift a brow. “Touch?”

  Her neck burns bright red and I’ve never seen her so upset. “Fuck you, dirty slut.” She storms off into the store without another word.

  My curiosity gets the better of me. Ever since I found the business card in her notebook, I’ve wondered what she could have employed the help of Mr. McConnell with. I rush to Mom’s car and load the groceries into the trunk. Instead of taking them straight home, I drive to the law office of McConnell, Gruber, and Shelton.

  Growing up, we weren’t allowed to visit Mr. McConnell at his law office. Whitney’s mother was all about keeping up appearances. She said by us going up there, it would dampen the professionalism they exude there. I’d never been too bothered, but I could tell it annoyed Whitney. She’s always been more of a daddy’s girl.

  When I pull up, it takes me a bit to find a parking spot. Once I climb out of the car, I frown at my appearance. If I’d known I was going to his fancy law office, I would’ve worn something nicer. Currently, I’m anything but. I’d thrown on a fitted pink tank top and a pair of Victoria’s Secret black cotton shorts. My long hair is messily twisted into a bun and my tennis shoes are the ones I wear to the diner, so they’re scuffed and dirty.

  Ugh.

  With a frown, I fling the giant glass door on the front of the building open and walk inside. The lobby smells of cinnamon and oranges, a surprisingly welcome scent. A woman sitting at the receptionist desk narrows her eyes at me.

  “May I help you?”

  I walk over to the desk and clasp my hands, resting my forearms on top. “I need to see Mr. McConnell, please.”

  Her features screw up into one of displeasure. “I’m sorry, but do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but I’m a friend of his daughter’s,” I lie.

  She rolls her eyes but quickly turns her head so that I don’t see. Irritation bubbles up inside of me.

  “He’s at the courthouse, but I can have him call you when he gets back,” she says blandly as she picks up a pen. “What’s your name again?”

  I open
my mouth but then the door behind me opens. Two men laugh as footsteps make their way toward us. The receptionist sits up straight and her cheeks bloom pink. I jerk around to see Mr. McConnell and another guy around his age both dressed in suits striding our way.

  “Courtney?” he asks, astonished. “What are you doing here?” I’d always thought he was handsome growing up, but he was also so cold and closed off. He’s an exact replica of his daughter, which I used to think was cool, but now it simply makes me nervous. His stare is the same scrutinizing one she has.

  “Mr. McConnell,” I rush out. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. As friends.” I don’t want him to bill me at his ridiculous amount. Three-hundred dollars an hour, my mom said. When all the shit went down last year, she called hoping he’d help us out, but then he’d told her his rate. Of course we couldn’t afford it.

  His friend snorts, flashing me a devilish look before slapping Mr. McConnell on the shoulder. “Let me know how your meeting goes later.”

  Mr. McConnell laughs and waves his friend off as he regards me. “You’re not a child anymore, Courtney. Call me Jackson.” I’ve always been the annoying friend of his teenage daughter, which means he never hardly looked at me before. Now, his brown eyes sparkle with interest. As if he’s genuinely curious about why I’m here. Under his bold stare, I feel my skin heat. He smirks as his hand finds the small of my back. “Come to my office. We’ll chat there. Meredith,” he calls out to the receptionist. “Please don’t disturb us.”

  She makes a squeak of agreement and I can’t help but be happy that she’s clearly intimidated by him. We walk down a series of hallways until we arrive at what appears to be one of the bigger offices. He pushes inside the door, his hand firmly guiding me inside. The moment he closes the door, he grins at me.

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” he says and holds his arms open as though he’s waiting for a hug.

  His approval warms me and I fall into his embrace. As soon as I’m pulled against him, my emotions overwhelm me. My life has been chaos for over a year now. I catfished someone undeserving and drove her to suicide, I lost my best friend, spent time in jail, and have been thrashing to stay above water ever since. This entire town seems to have discarded me as disgusting trash. So now that an important figure from my childhood and teen years is comforting me, I cling desperately to him.