Deep Down (Lockhart Brothers #1)

by Brenda Rothert

  “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, looking at me. “What did I . . .”

  I closed my legs and curled into a ball, wrapping my arms around my shaking body.

  “Ivy.”

  I let myself stay in a protective trance, not acknowledging him or my surroundings.

  “I didn’t mean for that . . .” he slurred. Then, as if the full realization hit him, he seemed to sober up immediately and he added, “You can’t tell anyone about this. Not one word. No one would believe you anyway. We’re both gonna forget this happened, okay? You just . . . clean up and go make dinner.”

  He left the room. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. Instead I pulled my pants up and ran to my bathroom, where I closed the door and turned the lock on the handle. If he really wanted to get in, that lock wouldn’t stop him for long, but it made me feel better.

  A few minutes later I heard the front door close and then I heard him pull out of the driveway.

  I cautiously opened the bathroom door and went back into my room. I pulled up the blinds on the window next to my bed. Then I opened the window, inhaling sharply as a cold winter breeze touched my skin.

  My hands shook as I dislodged the screen. I leaned it up against the wall and stared out into the back yard. The swing set I’d played on when I was small was still there, its white and blue paint now faded and rusted in places.

  If he came back and touched the door knob, I’d crawl out the window. But for now, I needed the comfort of my bed. I buried myself beneath my purple comforter, tucking it around me. I was cold, scared and completely horrified. I didn’t know what to do so I lay in bed looking out the window, watching the snow begin to fall.

  I’d just been raped by my own father. He was the only parent I had, and he’d ignored my cries as he hurt me. It was too awful to be real.

  Eventually, the tears came and I cried into my pillow until darkness fell over the room. I wanted my mom so much my stomach began to ache. Even when I closed my eyes, sleep was impossible. The icy January air coming in the wide open window had lowered the temperature in the room. I was still shaking, though I didn’t know if it was from the cold or from fear.

  The Stanford letter, dinner and my homework weren’t important anymore. Right now it was all I could do to keep breathing.

  I WAS WRAPPED UP in my covers, wide awake, when I heard the back door close early the next morning. Dad was leaving for work. I waited until I heard his car start and pull out of the driveway before I got out of bed and unlocked my bedroom door.

  As soon as I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror, I knew I looked as awful as I felt. The dark circles beneath my eyes stood out on my fair skin. My blue eyes were swollen and rimmed with red. And my long auburn hair was a tangled mess in bad need of a washing.

  A shower would help. And hopefully it would ease the pain between my legs. I turned the lock on the bathroom door and cranked the knob on the shower to hot. As steam filled the room, I brushed my teeth.

  I couldn’t stop looking at the face in the mirror. It looked like me. But something was off. My own reflection felt unfamiliar for the first time in my life. Yesterday morning I’d seen that my hair needed a trim and my lips looked a little dry. Today all I saw was emptiness.

  Taking in a deep breath and then letting it out, I pulled my shirt up over my head and tossed it to the floor. My skin broke out in goose bumps. A cold, exposed feeling wound around me, so strong it was suffocating.

  I grabbed my shirt and slipped it back on, wrapping my arms around myself. A shower would probably cleanse away some of the shame I felt right now. I knew that in my head, but I couldn’t bring myself to undress for it.

  Part of me wanted to take a sick day from school and get back in bed. But the thought of staying here filled me with a sick unease. I’d be terrified every minute that he’d walk in. No, I had to get out of here.

  I glanced at the clock and saw that Regina would be picking me up in half an hour. I ran a brush through my hair and covered up my fatigue with makeup. Changing into clean clothes was quick and mechanical. I felt too sick to eat, so I spent ten minutes sitting on the front steps waiting for Regina. It was cold outside, but I had to get away from my bedroom.

  Regina’s red sports car pulled into the driveway and I got in.

  “Hey,” she said, turning down the music. “Did you hear about Peyton and Jen?”

  I shook my head silently. She launched into a story about Jen’s father chasing Peyton out of his house while Peyton was naked. I tuned her out, staring at the passing scenery instead.

  The swings at the park I’d played at as a kid swayed slightly in the wind. The park wasn’t much—just swings, a couple slides and some monkey bars with peeling red paint. But going there had made for a perfect afternoon when I was little. Now it looked lonely and deserted.

  The letter ‘r’ on the sign for Marla’s nails was hanging upside down, looking like it would fall off at any moment. How long had it been like that?

  Even these familiar places seemed off today. I was in a haze, my eyes burning with exhaustion and my pulse racing with nervous worry.

  “Ivy?” Regina said, aggravated. “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Sorry. I think I’m getting the flu.”

  “Well, shit. Can you stop breathing in my car? If I miss one more day I have to take finals.”

  I resumed staring out the window until we pulled into the school parking lot. As soon as we walked in the front door, Regina headed toward a group of our friends. They were laughing and goofing off.

  I saw Levi and my stomach turned. The thought of being touched right now was too much.

  Without a word to Regina, I turned toward the bathroom and rushed in. Several freshmen were in there putting on makeup and passing a bottle of hair spray around. I bypassed them and went into a stall, sitting down and burying my face in my hands.

  How would I get through this day? I knew I couldn’t smile, laugh or get within ten feet of Levi. I’d be lucky not to break down crying in class.

  The bell rang, and it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other to get to my locker. I hurried to my first class, not meeting anyone’s eyes in an attempt to avoid conversation.

  That tactic worked most of the day. If someone spoke to me, I shrugged or told them I was feeling sick. That got me out of dance practice, too.

  After a few days, I had no choice but to paste on a smile and act like the Ivy everyone was used to. But inside I was hollowed out. Dancing, joking around and even smiling made me feel like an imposter.

  I wanted to be alone. Anytime I was with another person, I was pretending. I couldn’t talk about the thing that had taken over my mind not just when I was awake, but in my dreams as well. I woke up every morning sweating and scared. I was suffocating, and acting like a carefree teenager was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  Living at home became a nightmare in itself. Every morning I didn’t leave my bedroom until Dad had left for work, and I was in my bedroom with the door locked when he arrived home late every night. I would often hear him stumbling into things after he came inside, so I knew he was spending his evenings at a bar. My concern for him was gone. I was just grateful I didn’t have to see him.

  Days turned into weeks. The sleepless nights were wearing on me. I’d nodded off in Levi’s car on the way home from school one day and he woke me by brushing the hair away from my face.

  “No,” I said, jerking away from him so hard I knocked my head against the passenger side window.

  “Ivy, what’s going on with you?” The concern in his voice told me my act was wearing thin.

  “Sorry, I was asleep. I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “Who else would it be?”

  I sighed deeply. “I’m just stressed.”

  “You’ve been saying that for weeks.”

  “I’m not just saying it. It’s the truth.”

  He shifted in his seat so he was turned toward me. “Something’s going on. You either
jump or pull away every time I touch you. We haven’t done anything but kiss in more than a month.”

  “You’re keeping track?” I snapped. “Is that all I am to you?”

  “It didn’t used to be like this, Ivy. If there’s someone else, just say it.”

  I gave him back the pissed-off glare he was giving me. “There’s no one else.”

  “Just fucking tell me what’s up.” He slammed a hand against his steering wheel. “Am I gonna get dumped right before prom?”

  Of course, he was more worried about himself than me. Was this a universal trait in men?

  “I don’t even care about prom,” I said. It was the first honest thing I’d said in weeks, and it felt good. “Ask someone else. And you’re right—this isn’t working anymore.”

  He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “You’re breaking up with me?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You guess so? Who the fuck is it, Ivy? You’ve been cheating on me, haven’t you?”

  I shook my head and opened the car door once we pulled into my driveway. “No. All I care about is graduating and getting the hell out of here. I’m moving to California as soon as the ceremony is over.”

  The words had just come out of my mouth without me thinking about it, but I knew as soon as I’d said it that it was a good idea, a really good idea. I’d count the days until May 16 and then I would move to California. I could get a job to meet my expenses until classes started in August.

  “So that’s it?” Levi said. “All this time and you feel nothing?”

  Little did he know that feeling nothing sounded like a dream come true. All I did anymore was feel. Scared, angry, ashamed, worried. Could I ever get to a point where I felt nothing?

  “I guess not,” I said, getting out of the car. It was the truth; I actually didn’t feel much of anything for Levi anymore. And maybe if I tried hard enough, I could stop all the other feelings, too. If I didn’t, they were going to drown me.

  I SAT ON MY bedroom floor with my back against the door, staring up at the swirling ceiling fan. Even sitting up took energy, so I let myself crumple down onto the worn beige carpet. I’d been so stupid and naïve to think I was at rock bottom. So confident things couldn’t get any worse.

  But, today, they were ten times worse. I shook my head, wishing for yesterday, when what my father did to me six weeks ago had been my biggest problem.

  My period was late. It wasn’t something I’d ever kept track of, but I knew I hadn’t gotten it since that day. And I knew that day was six weeks and one day ago.

  The sense of sickness and dread was almost too much. I’d barely been keeping my head above water, but this? If I was pregnant from my own father . . .

  Just the thought sent vomit rushing up my throat. I crawled over to my pink metal trash can, making it just in time.

  I wiped my sleeve across my mouth after vomiting, not caring how gross it was. I didn’t want to know. The only reason I got out of bed every morning was because I was getting out of here in May. I was going to California to start over in a place that didn’t haunt me like my own bedroom now did.

  My shame was my secret. I knew what had happened wasn’t my fault, but I was still ashamed. If I was pregnant, though, how long would it stay a secret?

  The pain and fear were overwhelming. And there was no escape. If I was pregnant, those feelings would follow me to California or anywhere else I went.

  I thought about my mom and the way she had clutched my hand when she was sick in the hospital, telling me to be strong. Her pale blue eyes had implored me as she said the words. I promised her I would. I’d thought she’d meant be strong in handling her death, but I now realized she had meant so much more. That promise echoed in my mind now.

  The first step was finding out whether I was pregnant or not. That would take strength and resolve. I wanted to stay on the floor, but I thought of my mom and I pulled myself back to a sitting position.

  I had to think this through. I couldn’t be seen buying a pregnancy test. Everyone knew I was the deputy sheriff’s daughter, and the last person I wanted knowing about this was my father.

  Reluctantly, I reached for my backpack, fished out my phone and pushed a button to call Regina.

  “Hey, what’s up?” she said, laughing.

  “Um . . . can you come over? I need your help with something.”

  “Sure, give me half an hour.”

  I took a deep breath and gathered my courage. “Can you stop somewhere and . . . um . . . get a pregnancy test? I’ll pay you back.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I paced from the kitchen to the living room while I waited for Regina to arrive. Every time I passed the family photo in the hallway, I glanced over at my mom’s smiling face. What would she think of me right now? She’d hug me and say all the right things, but what would she feel in her heart?

  Surely she’d feel what I did. Disgust. What my dad did to me was his fault, not mine, but still. Still. The possibility I was pregnant with my own father’s child was disgusting to me.

  My lip quivered and I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I’d thought my biggest stress in my last semester of high school would be maintaining my Calculus grade. That didn’t even compare to this.

  A knock at the door made my stomach turn with revulsion and anxiety. When I opened it, Regina stood on the front step grinning at me.

  “What the hell, Ivy?” she said, stepping inside. “You said you never gave it up to Levi. Is this why you guys broke up? Does he know?”

  I answered her question with one of my own, “Did you bring it?”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic sack, handing it to me.

  “Thanks,” I said weakly. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Like hell. I’m staying. Let’s open that bitch so you can pee on it.”

  I read the instructions, drowning out her questions about who and when and why. She followed me into the bathroom.

  “Ivy.” She grabbed my arm. “It is Levi’s, right? Or . . . ?”

  “Look, I have to focus on this right now.”

  “Sure, sure. Go ahead.”

  I peed on the stick and then sat on the lid of the toilet seat to wait, burying my head in my hands.

  One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. One line, and I can get through this. Two lines, and I don’t know if I can be strong enough to face the future. One line, and my father did something terrible to me. Two lines, and I’m in a world of trouble.

  My hand shook as I picked up the stick to look at the results. Regina was looking over my shoulder.

  “Two lines?” she said. “What’s that mean?”

  I let the stick fall to the floor. It meant the end of everything.

  Regina’s eyes widened and she bit her lip in an attempt to conceal her smile.

  “Oh my God, Ivy. Oh. My. God. What are you going to do? Is it Levi’s?”

  “I just . . . I don’t . . .” The tears came hard and fast. “Can you please not tell anyone about this, Regina? Please. I need some time to . . .”

  “Are you gonna get an abortion?”

  I reached for the sink counter to brace myself against the dizziness. “I need to lay down. I’m sorry, you have to go. I’ll pay you back . . . later.”

  She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Text me later, OK?”

  “Sure.”

  I followed her to the door and opened it for her.

  “Are you gonna tell Levi?” she asked again.

  “I can’t . . . talk about this right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I closed the door behind her, covering my mouth to stifle a sob. Instinct drove me toward my bedroom. This time, I didn’t look over at my mom’s picture in the hallway. I couldn’t stand to see it right now.

  Numbness set in. I couldn’t think about anything. I locked my bedroom door, buried myself under my covers and let exhaustion swallow me.

/>   NO ONE SPOKE TO me at school the next morning, but everyone was sure looking at me. And they weren’t the kind of glances I was used to. These looks were similar to Regina’s: shocked amusement.

  Lunch was the worst. Instead of sitting with friends at my usual table, I sat in a chair in the student lounge and read a book while forcing myself to eat a grilled chicken sandwich. Not eating wasn’t an option anymore. The baby inside me deserved to grow and be healthy. Now that I knew the truth, in my mind, it was no different than holding a newborn in my arms. I’d cradle that baby, feed it and keep it warm. I was holding this baby inside me, and I would care for it.

  “Hey,” a deep male voice said. I looked up from my paperback. It was John McGinnis. He played football with Levi. In true jock fashion he wore his letterman jacket even though it wasn’t cold inside the school. “I heard you’re knocked up. That true?”

  What a jerk. I sighed deeply. Had I really thought Regina would keep things quiet? Though I had my suspicions about how, overnight, I had turned into a pariah at Lexington High School, this question from McGinnis confirmed it.

  “Is it any business of yours?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Levi said he never fucked you. Did you cheat on him?”

  “Again, John—not your business. Go away. I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

  “You’re a little whore. He never messed around on you. Guy had to have the bluest balls ever, but he never fucked around. And you let some other guy pop your cherry?”

  My cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment. I looked down at my book, ignoring him. After a few seconds, he walked away. People around me stared and whispered.

  How many times since I started high school had I seen someone else treated badly? Had I ever been one of the people whispering?

  I had. I wasn’t like Regina, who spread gossip around for fun, but I’d sure listened to my fair share and sometimes I’d reacted. I’d listened to talk that was none of my business. And now I was finding out how it felt to be on the other end.

  When I’d been upset about high school drama in the past, my mom had always reminded me that it would pass and not to get too caught up in it. But this wouldn’t pass. Not now, not ever. I was irrevocably changed.