The Night He Saved Me

by Sarah Stevens

  THE NIGHT HE SAVED ME

  Sarah Stevens

  Copyright © 2016

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  ISBN-13: 978-0692740378

  ISBN-10: 0692740376

  Cover Designer: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Cover Models: JJ Butts and Meagan Pacholski

  Editor and Formatter: Ready, Set, Edit

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  For Steve, my brother I love and miss you every day. Until we meet again.

  Huggies and Kissies, Sarah

  I have broken my promise to myself.

  I hate life here. I didn’t sign on to live in a new town, to live in a house I would never consider my own.

  Waking up, I get ready for my senior year of school and check this out: I get to go to an all-girls’ school. What the heck did I do to deserve this crap?

  After taking a shower, I put on the uniform that the boys think is sexy and I think is a curse before I do my hair and makeup—just a touch of mascara and lip gloss—and then wait for my ride to a school that is in the city. I hate life here in the outskirts of Portland, Maine.

  Why did we come to this place? Why did we sell that house and every childhood memory I had? I miss New Hampshire. I may be seventeen, but I am not stupid.

  They thought they were saving me from my brother’s life—from the heartbreak the drugs and the alcohol brought upon our family—but I saw; I saw it all. I can be a very sneaky girl when I need or want to be.

  Mom has left for the day so I go back to my room and grab the bottle I have hidden under my bed and take a swig before heading outside to wait for my ride to this God-awful school full of girls. Heck, we don’t even have a male teacher in the building—I think even the janitor is a female. I swing my backpack over my shoulder and grab that small square box out of my purse. When my mom leaves and I have a few minutes of peace and a cigarette to calm me, everything doesn’t seem so bad for a moment.

  Katarina

  It has been a long year.

  Junior/Senior prom is right around the corner, and I have finally started to fit in with a group of girls; one in particular. Brenda, who everyone calls Bren. I am sitting in algebra class the last class of the day when Bren looks over to me and says, “Hey, Kat, have you ever been in town after school?”

  “No, my mom usually wants me to head straight home,” I reply

  “Hop on the bus and head in town with me. Tell your mom you need to head off to the library for a project or something,” says Bren

  I sit and wait for the last bell to ring then head to my locker to call my mom. Thankfully, because it is school related, she says she will pick me up after work at the library.

  I look over at Bren and say, “We are all set, but I have to meet my mom at five at the library to get picked up.”

  “Awesome. Let’s go grab the bus,” Bren says excitedly

  I had a feeling I was about to walk into a world I had never experienced before or better yet, the world I had been trying to stay away from. I may drink a shot here or there and smoke a cigarette now and again, but Bren seems to have something different in mind. I see it with the devious look she shoots my way as we make our way to the bus stop. I think I know who Bren is, but today I have a feeling I will learn more about who Bren and her true self is, the one that not a lot of people get to see. The Bren that only her close friends get to witness when she lets them in. I have known Bren this entire year but it has taken up until now for her to invite me anywhere with her.

  Once we make it downtown and jump off the bus, Bren instantly lights up a cigarette, and I follow suit. We head on down to the Old Port and to the park. I look around and see guys and girls dressed in normal clothes unlike myself who wears a uniform. These kids are obviously from the city public school, and some even look like they are a bit older. I notice a few of the girls have piercing in places I wouldn’t even imagine getting pierced; torn up jeans and tattoos peek out from shirt sleeves of some of the guys. Some of the kids in the mix even appear as if they may be homeless. I don’t see how Bren fits in with this group of people, but she does, and they seem to love her.

  Bren is greeted by everyone here just like she is at school. Today, those greetings are followed by a, “Who’s your friend?”

  We make the rounds, and she introduces me to her world no one knows about. We all sit in a circle and the pipe starts to get passed around. You know, one of those one-hitter pipes that fit in your pocket and are easy to conceal for smoking pot? Yeah, I didn’t know what one was until today—naïve.

  When it gets to Bren, she takes a hit and then looks at me with the unspoken question of, “You want a hit?”

  Do I? I think to myself. Yeah, sure, just one. One hit won’t kill me, right? I nod my head at Bren. I have been watching everyone, and it should be easy—inhale, hold, exhale. So, I do, and, of course, even though I smoke, I still look like a fool when I cough up a lung. Yeah, first day in this new world, and I look like a fool. Go me.

  The group smokes the rest of the weed then lights up a cigarette and we chill. Some guys pull out the hacky sack, some pull out guitars and start singing. It is a very Woodstock kind of atmosphere, from what I know of Woodstock, that is.

  Bren and I are sitting there talking when I look up across the park and notice someone I hadn’t been introduced to, someone not exactly with this crowd. His eyes catch my attention with a bright-blue shine—like ice. He has dark-blonde hair that hangs in his eyes a bit, and he’s drinking a coffee. Those eyes. I am frozen in my place and don’t even notice Bren tapping on my shoulder to get my attention.

  “Hey, Kat! Kat, Earth to Kat,” she says with a chuckle to her voice.

  “Huh, what?”

  “Hey, girlie, we have to get you back up to the library, and I need to catch my bus to my house. What grabbed your attention and put you in a daze? You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It was nothing; I was just lost in thought.”

  We pick up our bags up and make the rounds saying bye to the new group of people I can tell will become my constant escape from my tedious world. We get up to the library and Bren has to run and catch her bus so we hug bye and I tell her, “Today was fun, thanks for the invite!”

  “We will have to come in town more often. It is a great escape from reality,” says Bren as she turns around and rushes to the bus stop.

  About five minutes later, my mom pulls up to the front of the library, and I get in and we make our way home. She doesn’t say much, just the normal Mom questions.

  “How was school?”

  “Did you get all your work done?”

  I answer them with the normal teenage answers.

  “Fine.”

  “Yes.”

  Now, here I go back into the normal boring life I hate with a passion. To the worl
d I didn’t choose, the one that has my mother marrying Kyle in a matter of months. I think it is time for me to choose what I want out of life since eighteen is just a couple months away.

  Over the past few weeks, I have managed to escape at least once a week with Bren to the Old Port with no real issues on the parental end. Each week, I seem to get more and more familiar with the group and the pipe. It feels good to be me for a while; at least, I think this is me. Each week, I also get to see those ice-blue eyes and dark-blonde, floppy hair. More recently, I have noticed how nice his body is. This man is sexy as hell, but just doesn’t seem to be a part of this group—he seems more like he is part of something bigger. The way he dresses, the way he acts … He just doesn’t seem to fit the mold of this group of people.

  Tonight, I have managed to get away for the entire night. Bren has invited me to stay at her house and vice versa so we can head off to a party tonight. At least, that’s our story, and we’re sticking to it. Ha! Parents are so gullible. You’d think with one brother always in jail and the other sent off to boarding school before he had even thought about high school, my mom would have caught on by now when she was being played. Good thing I have always been the angel in the family, the one that could do no wrong.

  We actually do go to Bren’s house for a bit after school. Two weeks ago, for Bren’s birthday, her mom and dad surprised her with a brand new, silver, Honda Civic. We no longer have to take the bus on our excursions which means we have a whole new level of freedom at our fingertips.

  We get to her house, and while her parents are still at work, we start getting ready for the party tonight. Thankfully, I am not much bigger than Bren so her clothes tend to fit me and let me tell you, her choice of clothes is so much better than my wardrobe at home where my mom still thinks I am a child who is good with the typical Maine look of jeans and a flannel. At least I have some cute shoes, right?

  With an hour of Bren’s touches complete, I look like a new girl. My long, dark, frizzy, hair is now sleek, and I have sculpted curls that hang perfectly around my shoulders. My face— Oh, my God, I have never seen my face look this way. Mom says no makeup except for mascara and gloss, and Bren has made me rethink my mother's opinion. Let's just hope she can teach me how to use it once I buy some.

  I feel beautiful. I feel like a new person, and I think I have gained some confidence just by looking different. We leave her house to grab some dinner and then make our way downtown to where the party is. Everyone recognizes Bren, and I hear the same thing I heard when I first started hanging out with her.

  “Hey, Bren. Who’s your girl?”

  What’s even better, is the question comes from the same people who I have been hanging out with weekly on my journey to a new world. We look at each other and laugh. I can’t believe my girl transformed me so much that no one recognizes me. Bren and I walk around, and as I get re-introduced, I get offered hit after hit from everyone’s bowl or joint they have in their hands. I take a hit off some and pass on the others.

  After grabbing a drink for the both of us, I follow Bren to the roof deck for some fresh air. It was getting hard to breathe in that small space with the smoke making the air so heavy and difficult to see through the haze. I could hardly see two feet in front of me. I sure as hell couldn’t hear a thing that Bren was saying over the loud music and people trying to yell over it.

  We still hear the music when we get outside, but at least we don’t have to yell at each other to be heard. A group of guys—I think their names are Damon, Jon and Nate—are gathered at a table at the end of the deck. Once we step closer to the table, I realize what I just walked up on. White powder, glass table, and rolled up bills. This is where I have to decide if I ignore what they are doing or join in. When I glance over to Bren, I realize she is giving me that look again. The unspoken,” You want to do it?”

  I've had quite a few hits of weed with her since arriving and started drinking when we made our way out here, and now I am faced with this. Well, shit, what the hell? You only live once, and this is a night to remember. I hope.

  I take the bill after Bren has made two perfectly-straight lines on the table and snorted hers. Okay, I can do this.

  Close one nostril.

  Put the bill in the other.

  Inhale the white powder—the entire line.

  Drop the bill, head back, and keep inhaling it through my nasal passage.

  I feel the burn as it is sucked through my nasal passage, and then I taste it in the back of my throat. For the next half hour I am sniffling like I have a cold and tasting the drip, but honestly, after the first few minutes, I don’t care. I am feeling no pain; I haven’t felt this light and free since … well … ever, and I watch the world go by with my best friend next to me. As I sit on one of the lounge chairs set up on the roof next to Bren looking into the night, I think of my brother, but then again, I tell myself, this is one night. Just one night, I am not an addict like he is. One time won’t kill me.

  Later on in the night, things get really mellow as everyone has had their share of pot or cocaine and no one has a care in the world. The music is still blaring through the speakers but no one is dancing. I look around and realize Bren is nowhere to be found—she has left me sitting there on the couch against the wall on the far side of the room. I don’t mind because I am enjoying my buzz, my high, my life. The next thing I know, this really cute guy sits next to me and starts talking. No biggie, right? I have all the confidence in the world. Who cares if a guy has never talked to me before and has never shown any interest in me? Since I’m high and feel pretty much nothing, I sit and talk to him. Finally, I get his name—was it Nick, Trent? God, I can’t get his name right.

  The talking has stopped; he is kissing all over my neck pulling me closer and working his way up to my mouth. God, he’s cute. In a matter of minutes, I am on his lap, the world around me long forgotten. For once, I feel special. I have lost all control of myself, my head is spinning, and I am starting to realize that the mix of tonight's activities was so not a good idea. I should have stuck to one thing whether it be the pot, the booze, or the coke. I feel present—I know what is going on—but my body won’t move the way I tell it to. Before I can react, my body is being forced down on the couch, my skirt is flipped up, and my panties are ripped away from my body. My arms are too heavy—I feel like I weigh a million pounds when I try to shove him away from me.

  I yell at him to stop, and I try to kick him away, but I can’t; the drugs have consumed my body, and I feel so weighed down. He doesn’t seem to care that I don’t want this to happen, he is going to do this to me anyway, and that is evident when he shoves his dick inside me. I scream out in pain as tears run down my face, but no one is hearing me over the music as I scream. He covers my mouth anyway and he keeps going. I try to push him away again but I am so messed up I have no strength, I am weak, and I have just lost myself.

  I am no longer whole.

  James Russo

  I stand there, where I do every day at this time, but this day is different. She is different—innocent and beautiful. She doesn't belong in this environment.

  I continue playing a game of hacky sack with my friends. I go about my game but notice she keeps looking in my direction. I try to ignore her but she is a beautiful girl. Dark, curly hair and a fair complexion, then I notice her bright-blue eyes. I'm going to be in trouble.

  I finish my game with my friends and then it’s time to make my way back down the street to The Java. This place has become my baby—the thing I live for. I walk away but take a second to glance back toward where she is surrounded by the people she is too innocent to be around. God, I want to go grab her up and take her away from that world, but I don't. I turn around and head in the direction of The Java, back to the world that I have made mine. As I walk down the street, I wonder, Will she be there again tomorrow or the next day? I hope so; I have to see her again even if it is from a distance. But those eyes, they caught me off-guard. I'd do anything to look dire
ctly into them, just a moment to see a glimpse of her soul. I keep walking and make it to the door still with this girl who I have no clue what to call on my mind, wondering if I will see her again. Damn, when did I become so wrapped up in a girl, especially one who I don't have a name for, one so innocent, so young? I think I just might be screwed.

  I walk into The Java and am greeted by my staff as the aroma of coffee invades my nose. I love that smell.

  Jayce, my day manager, looks at me and sees something different within me. “Dude, what's going on? You all right, man?”

  “Yeah, I'm good,” I reply. “Just a bit on my mind.” He hands me my latte and I walk to my office. Yeah, I'm screwed; I've got to meet her.

  She is stuck in my head after just a glimpse of her.

  Katarina

  I need to get out of here before anyone notices something is wrong with me. Bren is my ride, so after I clean myself up in the bathroom, I set off to find her. I look normal, but I don't feel normal. Not anymore, and no one will ever know the truth of what I just experienced. We went, we partied, and I went home. End of story.

  The next day, I walk in the door and am greeted by my mom. “How was your night, sweetie?”

  “Great!” I reply, hoping that she doesn't notice a change in me. “We had a late night, Mom, so I'm going to go take a shower and a nap. Then I have to get my homework done. Call me when dinner's ready.”

  I walk toward my room, get undressed, throw my clothes away, and get into the hottest shower I have ever had. It’s too much—everything I am feeling—and I crash. Tears start to stream down my face as I sit there in the shower reliving my nightmare. All of a sudden, I feel panicked. Grabbing my puff, I douse it with soap and start scrubbing every inch of my body. There is no escape—this feeling won’t go away. I scrub and sob and scrub some more. Nothing is helping, so I sit there until the water runs cold and I’m shivering. Finally, I step out of the shower, wrap myself in my soft fluffy towel, and crawl in bed. My bed, a safe place, or so I thought.