The Redemption of Nixon Thorne

by T Steele

  When I entered Mr. Tackett’s science classroom after the last bell, it was empty. I had gotten to work quickly, searching through his desk and drawers. One of the drawers was locked and growing up the way I did, I’d known how to pick a lock. It’d only taken a minute to get the drawer open, but once opened, what was inside had changed everything.

  There were three pictures. They looked older, like they were from a different time, but they couldn’t have been because it was Ella in the pictures, looking exactly the same as I’d seen her earlier that day.

  Except…except she wasn’t wearing any clothes.

  My heart felt as though it was beating in my ears, and I was hot and cold all over. All I saw was an innocent girl. The girl who had helped me in the lunch line, wearing the same awful look my mother gets in her eyes when my father comes home.

  When Mr. Tackett had returned to the classroom and saw me holding the pictures, he didn’t even get a word out. I was already on him.

  He was older, balding, with a beer belly, and I had at least a good seven inches of height on him. But even if I hadn’t, my rage was its own force entirely, and it would’ve made me the winner of that fight regardless.

  By the time the principal had come in and broken up the fight, Tackett was on the floor bloodied and barely conscious.

  I had almost blacked out in my anger, and my only thought had been to kill that sick motherfucker. I had even got a hit in on the principal, too, which I would later reflect on in prison with satisfaction, considering that fuck head hadn’t believed me.

  I had gone to prison shortly after since I was already eighteen and had assaulted two teachers right on school property. It hadn’t helped that my sperm donor was the town drunk, and had been in and out of prison his whole life. Of course, they hadn’t believed my accusations against Tackett, and I never knew how he’d gotten rid of the evidence. It had haunted me, wondering why he wasn’t charged. There had literally been three naked photos of an underage girl on his desk.

  I’m brought back to the present when Ella releases a shuddering breath that seems to vibrate her entire body. She shrugs out of my embrace, walking around her small dorm room, and I hate the helpless feeling in my chest.

  “How did you know?” she asks. Her voice is ragged and broken, and I hate myself.

  “I found them that day.” My own voice sounds the same as hers, only deeper, and cracks with emotion. I have to clear my throat, clenching my jaw. Making my words come out through gritted teeth, I’m trying so hard not to sound angry because I’m anything but angry at her, but the situation has me in a million different places. “That day in the lunch line…I—thank you. I never thanked you, but it—”

  “What are you talking about? What—how did you know about…” she trails off, her lip quivering, and I can’t continue. I’d forgotten, while our emotions are high, that she didn’t recognize me as that same boy from the lunch line all those years ago. How could I bring it up now? It’s time to let that go now since I’ve ruined everything. None of that even matters anymore. I guess I really am turning into my father—it’s my very own worst nightmare.

  “I broke into his classroom. We had no money at home, and I was planning to rob him. I…I found the photos instead.” I quit talking when her face crumbles even more, and I have to look down. I clench my eyes shut tightly, jamming my fists into them. “I beat him to a bloody fucking pulp, and that’s the reason I went to prison.”

  She sucks in a sharp breath.

  “They never said the reason he’d quit,” she murmurs, sniffling. “So you knew my secret this whole time? You…you knew,” she says, and I want to stick nails inside my ears rather than hear the way her voice sounds right now. It’s gutting me. The ball of hate I feel for myself just keeps expanding, and I still haven’t even looked her in the eye.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  It’s quiet for what feels like an eternity, and then she speaks.

  “Will you please leave?” Her words come out a half-sob, her chest heaving. We’re both completely wrecked right now, and I don’t know how to fix that. Do two broken pieces fit together?

  I clench my fists at my sides. I can’t leave her. Not now, knowing that fucking pervert is out there. So close by. I know he has to be the one sending the notes, but why? Why would he do that? Why come back now?

  “I don’t think you should be alone,” I say as gently as I can.

  She turns away from me, arms wrapping around her waist, almost like she’s trying to hold herself together. “Get. Out.”

  I swipe my hand down my face. “Please, Ella. I think you should come back to my place and stay until we get things—”

  “What!?” she says, clearly in a state of disbelief. “ You’ve got to be kidding me! That sounds like the worst idea ever right now. You lied to me!” By the end of her sentence, she’s yelling.

  “I trusted you. God, I—you saw me. We almost—” she cuts herself off, and I don’t need her to finish the sentence to know what she’s talking about, but how do I explain it to her without making things worse? How do I tell her how sorry I am? How do I tell her that no one hates me more than I do right now?

  “I didn’t mean to take things that far. I wanted to tell—”

  “You didn’t mean to take things that far? What was it, then? Pity? You knew everything I’d been through, and still went ahead with it. Was it because no one else would do it, so you decided to step up to the plate?” She’s crying harder now, and I want so badly to reach out to her and comfort her, to fix her problems, but I can't. So I stare, wishing I was the one hurting instead. Wishing she would hit me or cause me pain the way I am hurting her.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” I whisper. “And I know you hate me right now, but please, Ella, please come stay with me. We’ve already gone to the police, and they’re not going to do anything…how will I know if you’re safe?”

  Chapter 15

  Ella

  Nixon stands before me, a pleading expression on his face, and I have to turn away again.

  I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Shame envelopes me, bringing with it the anger, the fear, the self-hate…and the sorrow; a tornado of emotions ripping through me, leaving behind nothing but misery.

  The truth is, I did feel safer with Nixon, but that didn’t stop the rage inside me. I felt so heavy, like I was carrying so much weight.

  “Ella.” Nixon’s tormented voice comes from right behind me, and my body erupts in goosebumps at his close proximity. I always feel hyper-aware of him, and now I feel like a ticking time bomb. I need to be alone. But he’s right. If I’m not going back to the police, then what am I going to do about my safety?

  “Do your parents know?” Nixon asks.

  “No.”

  I had been terrified to tell them. Looking back now, though, I wish I would have. My parents were loving and protective, they would have helped me. But I’d been too afraid to hurt them.

  “You’ve never told anyone?” Nixon asks hesitantly.

  I turn around, glaring at him. “No! You’re the only one who knows.”

  Nixon looks down, ashamed, but I can’t let myself feel bad. He lied.

  “What else have you lied about?”

  “Nothing,” he says, brows furrowing, eyes pleading as if he’s begging me to believe him.

  “How do I know you weren’t in on it?” I yell. “How—”

  I’m cut off by Nixon getting directly in my face. He towers over me, and I flinch back. Embarrassment fills me at my reaction, and his face, which looked murderous before, is now completely flat, emotionless, defeated.

  “I know you’re mad right now, but don’t ever, for one fucking second, think I would be in on something so fucked up.” He works his jaw back and forth furiously. “And you don’t have to flinch away from me. I know I’m the kind of man your mother probably warned you to stay away from, but I told you, I’d never hit a woman.”

  My tears start anew at his words, but my anger
is still a living thing. That, coupled with my fear and the cracking of my heart—is making me feel too fragile and unbalanced.

  I can’t help but get another cruel word in. I wipe my eyes, likely causing mascara smudges. “How do I know that’s not a lie too?”

  His penetrating gaze is powerful as he stares down at me, unflinching. It’s almost stifling, but the worst part is that I can tell he’s hurt. He tries to hide it, but I can see it. He looks just as haunted as I feel, and I’d give anything to go back in time to yesterday when my biggest worry was why he wouldn’t sleep with me.

  I want to ask him if the photos were the reason why, but do I even have to? That has to have something to do with it, but it doesn’t even matter anymore anyway. Our whole relationship seems fake to me now, like I was some sort of charity case.

  Nixon shakes his head and swipes a hand down his face before turning around and walking out the door. Leaving me to finally fall apart in peace.

  ***

  Time passes, and it could be minutes, hours, or days, and I wouldn't notice. I’m numb. I’ve been lying in the dark on my bed, not moving unless I have to go to the bathroom. When Waverly comes back to our dorm room, she gently sits on the edge of my bed.

  “Is there any particular reason you’re catatonic, and Nixon is half asleep against our door?”

  My eyes snap to hers. “He’s still here?” My voice cracks with disuse.

  She nods, staring down at me in concern. “Is everything okay?”

  I shake my head no, not trusting my voice.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  No. I couldn’t even begin to explain to Waverly what had happened all those years ago. When Mr. Tackett had taken a liking to me—more like an obsession, really—it had started off innocently enough. I was the teacher’s pet. Always raising my hand, ready to answer any and all questions when called upon. I was confident with my school work, and Mr. Tackett would smile fondly, eyes lighting up with something I couldn’t quite identify when I answered each question correctly. Then he started asking me to stay after class. The first few times, he would just bring up something from class, something school-related. I thought it was kind of weird, but at fourteen, I didn’t look too much into it. Not until it became him telling me personal stuff. Things about himself, his life. His likes and dislikes. When I’d finally come out and asked him why he wanted me to stay after school, he’d pulled out an old Polaroid camera…the rest…I’ve blocked it out.

  I close my eyes. I hate this, I hate it so much, but how can I not tell Waverly what’s going on? Mr. Tackett was obviously getting bolder with his little stunts, and I need to warn her. I would never forgive myself if my tormentor went after my friend.

  It’s time I tell Waverly the truth. It’s going to be hard, having yet another person know my secret after all the revelations I’ve discovered tonight, but Waverly has been a good friend to me. She won’t judge me.

  “No,” I sigh, opening my eyes. “But you need to know.”

  She furrows her brows. “Okay…you can trust me, you know that right?”

  My lip quivers and I jam the palm of my hands into my eyes, so I don't completely lose it again.

  “Hey,” Waverly says softly, her hand coming up to my back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m here. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

  I nod, body trembling, but then I feel her arms wrap around me in a fierce hug, and we just stay like that for a moment. The comfort she’s offering gives me the courage to speak. My words come out hoarse and fast. I find that it’s easier to talk about what had happened when I don’t have to look at her face. She stays silent the entire time, letting me get everything off my chest. When I tell her the real story of what happened to Nixon and the reason he went to prison, she gasps, and she pulls back from the hug, but still keeps her hands on my shoulders, staring at me wide-eyed.

  “You’re so brave,” Waverly whispers. “And strong. And I’m so sorry. I hate that you went through that. God, now I want to go to that fucker’s house and beat the shit out of him. Or better yet, have Nixon finish off the job.” Her facial expression shows her rage, but more so, her compassion and empathy for me. She’s here with me as my friend, not judging. Not staring at me with pity, and she’s giving me the comfort and support I need right now.

  “Thank you,” I say, sniffling and tapping my fingers against my leg.

  “You don’t have to thank me. This is what friends are for. Although, I do wish you would have told me about the notes he’s been leaving you,” she says, giving me a stern look. “I would have followed you everywhere or made sure that Nixon was with you. Damn, how weird is it that I’m super glad we met him now?” She smiles.

  At my pained expression, she sighs again. “Let me guess, you guys had a big fight, and that’s the reason he’s out there sulking?”

  “How’d you know?” I ask.

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly hard to piece together after everything you just told me. Plus, I asked him when I came home. I said, ‘why are you being a creep waiting outside our door?’ and he’s all ‘I’m not a creep! Don’t call me that!’ and then he may have mumbled something about ‘Ella’s mad’ and ‘I want her safe’,” she says that last bit with a pretty damn good Nixon impression, and I can’t help but give a tiny laugh.

  “I need to talk to him,” I whisper.

  She nods her head in agreement. “Yeah, I think you do.”

  I hug her again. “Thanks so much for being here for me,” I tell her. “It means so much to me.” My voice comes out soft and shaky.

  “Of course,” she says, then she frowns, green eyes studying me. “Ella, what are we going to do about this teacher guy?”

  “I don’t know,” I say truthfully, feeling my stomach sinking with the knowledge that there's not much we can do. We’ve already spoken to the police, and they don’t seem to give a damn.

  I think of Nixon’s words earlier that day. They hadn’t registered at the time, because I had been so caught up in my feelings of shock and betrayal.

  “I beat him to a bloody fucking pulp. He is the reason I went to prison.”

  He did that for me. It doesn’t make up for the fact that he lied, but he tried to be noble and look where it got him. He had saved me. Because when I had gone to school the next day and the principal had announced Mr. Tackett had quit, I’d felt such relief that I’d gone to the bathroom and thrown up.

  The school must have covered it up because no one had known what had really happened. I hadn’t heard from him and had been living in fear ever since, wondering if my pictures would show up somewhere someday, and I would be blindsided. But they never did.

  I’ve also wondered from that moment on if he would show back up in my life. And I had been haunted by the fact that there could have been others just like me, and I wondered if that could’ve had something to do with him leaving. Because no one had ever known the real reason, and no one else had cared.

  Except me.

  I get up and go open the door.

  Waverly was right, Nixon is sitting on the floor in the hallway, his head propped against the wall with one ankle crossed over the other. When he sees it's me who opens the door, he stands quickly, and then we just stare at each other.

  I clear my throat. “Why are you still here?” I whisper.

  “Because no matter what you think of me right now, I’m not letting anything happen to you. If that man comes near you again, I’ll fucking kill him.”

  I swallow thickly, looking down at my hands. “Why do you care so much what happens to me?”

  “Do you really think that I’m such a horrible person that I would want something bad to happen to you? Or anyone for that matter?”

  “No. I don’t think you’re horrible at all. This is all just really hard for me to process.” I raise my brows, surprised at myself. That was the first time I’d easily admitted how I was feeling, without getting tripped up by words.

  “I know it is, and I’m sorry,�
� he whispers. “And if I didn’t think he was the one sending you these notes, I’d give you space, but as long as he’s out there and walking free, I can’t do that. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you just because you’re mad at me.”

  “Do you think it’s him? Sending the letters?”

  “Yes,” he answers without hesitation.

  “I don’t know if I am mad at you,” I say suddenly. When his facial expression doesn’t change, I go on, babbling. “That’s the thing. I’m mad at the whole situation. I’m upset you didn’t tell me, but you saved me. You got rid of him for me back then. You took care of me, and I never even knew it.” My voice breaks.

  “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he says, and I want to cry again. I want to hug him, get lost in his warmth and allow him to be my safety net, but I don't know how to accept comfort from him yet. Especially not for something like this. My deepest, darkest secrets have been revealed, and I don’t know how he sees me or what he thinks of me.

  I don’t know how to form a response, so I stay quiet, and when the silence thickens, Nixon speaks. “Please come stay with me.”

  “What about Waverly?”

  “Just tell her that I’m so irresistible that you can’t stand being away from me, even for a second,” he says and smiles, trying to lighten the mood.

  I grin slightly before looking away. I can’t get sucked into his boyish charm just yet. I hate these feelings of uncertainty inside me. I don’t want to be mad at Nixon, but he did lie, and there’s nothing we can do to take that back.

  “I just mean that I don’t want her staying here alone,” I say softly. “I—I told her what happened.”

  “Everything?” he asks.

  “Everything,” I confirm.

  He smiles down at me sadly. “That must’ve been hard.”

  “It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought.” I shrug. If I’m being honest, it feels as if a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders now that she knows.