I turned away, suddenly overwhelmed by what I saw. His love was unmistakable, causing an ache to rise up from deep within me. The kind of love he was showing me couldn’t exist because I’d deemed myself unlovable. I’d done everything in my power to push people away, but Wren’s love was so strong, it was impossible to ignore.
Pushing the thoughts away, I guided him inside me, needing him to fill every abandoned corner. Wren pushed deeper, moving me up and off of the blanket, my back hitting the warm sand. I could feel the tiny grains in places they shouldn’t be, but there was no way I was going to reposition myself. My nails scraped against Wren’s back as he pushed even farther inside of me. The sound of the ocean waves crashing onto the beach, along with the sight of the full moon and the shining stars, would forever be etched into my memory. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to tell Wren how much he meant to me, that I wanted him to be my future, but I couldn’t find the words, so I let my fingers, my lips, my pointed toes do the talking for me.
Wren’s movements sped up. My fingers trailed across his back, feeling the beads of sand stuck to his skin. Sand was now everywhere, and it would take days for both of us to wash the traces away. I knotted my fingers in his hair, pulling lightly on his short locks. I allowed my body to feel things I’d always pushed away, to feel the emotions that came with intimacy. Wren was touching parts of me that I never knew existed and I reveled in the sensations that inhabited my body. The ache was building and building and my heart was beating so quickly it should have exploded in my chest.
Seconds, no, minutes...no, it had to be seconds. Seconds of insane, mind-numbing ecstasy. My body trembled. My nails dug into Wren’s back. My feet burrowed underneath large piles of sand. Wren’s full weight rested on my chest and he was breathing heavily in my ear. I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling that only sex could give me. Those silent seconds where I could convey myself completely, where my body was an acceptable gift and I didn’t have to utter those three words to make the situation better, those seconds were my favorite part.
His breathing slowed and he lifted his head slightly to kiss my cheek. If my veins were filled with poison, his lips were the antidote.
“Well, isn’t this classy?”
Wren practically jumped off me, covering our bodies with the blanket. Neither of us had heard anyone approaching the beach, and my first thought was how long did this pervert stand there and watch before making their presence known?
My second thought came shortly after. I knew who the voice belonged to. The same voice that broke through every barrier I ever put up.
It was Porter. He had come to ruin everything. Again.
I returned home right as the Hendersons were sitting down for dinner. I wanted to avoid all conversation, but since the basement door was adjacent to the kitchen, I knew I wouldn’t be so lucky. The kids were all seated, each one speaking over the other. Mrs. Henderson was standing at the stove, stirring one of the boiling pots, while Mr. Henderson sat in his usual seat, ignoring the children as he read the newspaper. I often wondered if he actually read the paper or if it was just a tactic he used to get out of learning about his children. I never once heard him ask how anyone’s day was, or if they had any homework, or even if they were enjoying their dinner. He didn’t put any effort into trying to be any sort of father to them.
Mrs. Henderson, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. If she wasn’t nagging Mr. Henderson to do something, she was busy nagging one of the kids. Turn down your radio! Clean your room! Pick up the groceries! As far as I was concerned, Mrs. Henderson believed that since she saved so many children, she no longer had to do anything for herself. Some nights, like tonight, she would cook, but that was only when Ashley, the oldest out of all of us, wasn’t around.
As quiet as a mouse, I walked to the basement door, thankful that it was already slightly open. Just enough to squeeze my body through.
“Kingsley,” Mrs. Henderson spit my name out like it was curdled milk, “come here.”
The other children immediately quieted down when I walked into the kitchen. They had to know how much the Hendersons hated me. The house wasn’t that big, and each time I was being scolded or beaten for something I didn’t do, the noise had to travel. For a long time, I thought that maybe the other kids were also being abused, but judging by their constant upbeat attitudes, I realized I must have been the only one.
“Yes, Mrs. Henderson?” I said, standing a few inches from her.
Mr. Henderson’s eyes peeked over his paper, and I could feel the contents of my stomach rising. I swallowed three times, hoping I wouldn’t puke all over the kitchen floor.
“Where did you go today?”
“I went to Mrs. Hall’s,” I lied.
“I called Mrs. Hall to check on you. She told me you weren’t there.”
She shook the spatula as she spoke, and I hoped it wasn’t what would be used on me later. When we were alone.
“I went there, but she didn’t have any work for me,” I stammered, “so I went to the library and read.”
Mrs. Henderson’s eyes burned into mine. She could make anyone feel worthless with her icy glare. “I’d hate to find out you were lying to me,” she threatened.
Andrew got up from his seat and walked over to my side. He craned his neck as he spoke. “Momma, Kingsley told me earlier she was going to the library. She said she was going to look for a book that I could read.”
“I see,” Mrs. Henderson said as she put the spatula down on the counter. “Did you find a book for Drew to read?”
“Y-yes,” I stuttered. “They had both Diary of a Wimpy Kid books.” I looked down at Drew and smiled.
“Really?” Drew’s eyes lit-up with the mention of his favorite books.
“Really,” I answered, squeezing his shoulder lightly.
Andrew jumped up and down with exaggerated excitement. He was such a good kid for saving me.
“Andrew, sit down and finish your dinner,” Mrs. Henderson ordered. “Kingsley,” once again, her evil eyes were staring me down, “the garbage needs to be taken out later this evening.”
The moment I stepped foot into the basement, every bit of nausea disappeared. I didn’t want to think of the consequences I would have faced if it wasn’t for Drew speaking up. He was the Hendersons’ pride and joy, so not believing him wasn’t even an option.
I sat down on one of the boxes used to keep miscellaneous items in. With eleven people living under one roof, space was extremely limited. There were four bedrooms and only one working bathroom. Everything that couldn’t fit upstairs was kept in the basement, leaving only a tiny corner for my now abandoned mattress. My clothing was kept folded on top of a stack of boxes, and the two pairs of shoes I owned were neatly lined next to each other. I didn’t mind the small space. I was the only child in the house that got to sleep alone, though I’m sure that’s due to the fact that the Hendersons didn’t want me upstairs. I used to love sleeping down here. I used to feel safe.
Tears clouded my sight, thinking of the other night. When it happened. I wanted my thoughts to revolve around my day with Porter. I wanted to hold the happiness inside and never let it leave my body, but I couldn’t. I was scared. As long as I was in this house, my only concern would be on how to keep myself safe. I had to plan what I’d do if Mr. Henderson ever came down here again. If he did, I’d be ready for him, and he wouldn’t ever touch any part of me again.
I looked around the room, searching for a release. My stomach muscles contracted with every deep breath I was taking, and I couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down my face. The scissors were right where I left them the last time. The night I cut myself, I cleaned the blood from the scissors with my sock and stuffed the sock into the bottom of the garbage, making sure no one could ever find it.
I held the scissors in my hands, not sure what to do next. I’d only cut myself that one night, and when it was over, I felt better. Maybe harming myself was a solution, a way to forget about w
hat Mr. Henderson had done. I was tempted to run the blade against every spot he touched. They were scarred on the inside, the outside may as well match.
There was a mirror leaning against the wall, and I walked over and stood in front of it. When I looked at my reflection, I couldn’t see past the terrified girl I’d turned into. It was hard to remember a time I was completely happy, when I wasn’t always so scared. When I was at school, or when I used to dance...those were the times I felt happiest. I didn’t know whether or not thirteen year olds should be as sad as I was. I wanted to think that I wasn’t the only one in the world, but that thought upset me because I didn’t want anyone else living the life I did.
My reflection showed the signs I’d hidden from the world. I plastered a smile on my face, but in the mirror, I could see the sadness that brimmed each of my cheeks. I waved cheerfully at the girl, but I could see the loneliness in the way I moved my hand back and forth. I kept my head down everywhere I went so people didn’t see what showed so clearly in the mirror.
I ran the cold metal against my stomach. His calloused hands had caressed the skin right under my belly button. I ran my fingers over it, my body trembling as I remembered how his hands felt like sandpaper against my smooth skin.
I lifted my shirt and squinted, looking for any signs that Mr. Henderson had been there. For the first time in a long time, my skin was unmarked, but I still felt his hands all over me. I pressed the blade across my stomach. It stung, but my movement was too weak to cause any damage. I winced, this time putting more pressure on the blade. My reflection wore a smile, but inside I felt like I was dying. Blood stained the top of my shorts. I covered the small cut with my hand, dropping the scissors on the ground. When I lifted my hand off of the wound, my palm was stained with blood, but the cut was no longer bleeding. With a spare t-shirt I found in one of the boxes marked Goodwill, I pressed it onto the cut.
The children were running across the living room floor above me, and I could hear them yelling, “Tag! You’re it!” I wondered the Hendersons would treat any of the other kids like scum if they had my skin color. I didn’t know if it actually was my skin color that caused so much hatred or if it was just the fact that I was the weakest. The other kids were outgoing, outspoken, blinded. They didn’t see how awful the Hendersons really were, or maybe they did and they chose not to confess.
I sat on the ground, keeping the shirt pressed firmly against the cut. Just an hour ago, I was with Porter Henning, having the time of my life. We walked, side by side, not touching, though all I wanted was to hold his hand. He bumped by shoulder a few times when he’d made a joke and wanted to hear me laugh. I think he knew that every time he touched me, my body would erupt into a fit of laughter.
When I went to sleep, I tried my hardest at banishing the dark thoughts of Mr. Henderson from my mind. Instead, I thought about the way Porter’s arms wrapped around my shoulders. I thought of Porter’s smile, and how every time he looked at me, it felt like I was taking in a breath of fresh air.
I closed my eyes, not clutching at the sheet around my body or fixating on every creak of the floor. I was able to fall asleep peacefully, without any hesitation.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Porter?” I shrieked, clutching the blanket to my naked body.
“I have to say, Kingsley, I didn’t think you could get any hotter.” Porter’s eyes gleamed with malice and it made me wonder if he really was the boy I had once loved or if he was some evil doppelgänger.
“This is Porter?” Wren looked from me to Porter, realization finally setting in.
“You must be Wren. Nice tattoos,” Porter said with an unenthused smirk on his face.
“Get out of here!” I demanded.
My heart was racing. A thin sheen of sweat formed on my forehead, but I refused to wipe it away. Porter knew things about me that no one else did. He knew secrets behind my facial expressions, nervous ticks and what they all meant. If he saw me wipe my forehead, he’d know his presence was affecting me.
“Kingsley,” Porter frowned, “you act like you’re not happy to see me.”
“Get the fuck out of here, asshole!” Wren shouted. He tried standing up, but I gripped onto his hand, forcing him to stay where he was.
“Hmm...this is a weird predicament.” Porter’s index finger tapped at his lips. “See, you’re both naked, meaning I have the upper hand.”
“You disgust me,” I choked.
Having Porter standing three feet away made every bone in my body feel like it was splintering. I wanted to rip out his heart, curse his existence, and make him feel like he was nothing in this world. Like he had done to me.
“You don’t mean that, Cherry Berry.”
He scrutinized my face, waiting for me to collapse. It felt like I’d just been hit in the stomach with a fastball so powerful that I couldn’t help but feel it in every part of my body. My spine ached. My ribs broke. My heart stopped beating. With one single nickname, I was totaled. And Porter knew it.
When Porter and I first started dating, he’d quickly become aware of the fact that I hadn’t experienced many things. “I want to show you the world,” is what he had said.
Almost every day, he’d take me somewhere new. We’d eat mini-glazed doughnuts, burritos more expensive than a week’s worth of groceries, and pizzas so big they could feed a family of five. One day, he took me on a trip all the way to DC. We arrived in front of a small cupcake shop and he told me that they had some of the most unique flavors around. Neither of us had ever been there, so when we walked in and were greeted by cases of different flavored cupcakes, we both held the same animated expression.
I had the hardest time choosing just one, but after ten minutes of deliberation, I chose the Cherry Blossom cupcake. It was filled with cherries and topped with a vanilla buttercream frosting so incredible that my taste buds were never be the same. I ate it slowly, savoring each bite like it was the last time I’d ever eat. Several minutes passed, and I held back every urge to stuff the rest of the cake in my mouth. Porter had finished his bubblegum cupcake almost immediately and sat patiently as I ate mine.
“I’m going to assume by the huge grin on your face that you love it?” he’d asked, breaking into a smile.
“Love isn’t even a good enough word. I want to marry this cupcake.” I took a tiny lick of the frosting, tempted to ask if I could take the half I hadn’t eaten home. Then I’d have something to look forward to after I left him.
“Cherry Berry,” he beamed.
“What?” I asked, giggling right along with him.
“That’s going to be your new nickname. Cherry Berry. Because I’ve never seen you look as happy as you do right now.”
Porter’s eyes moved across my bare shoulders, down to my legs, and back up to my hands that were clutching tightly at the blanket. He looked into my eyes and for a split-second, I saw the boy I fell in love with.
“I was hesitant when my aunt asked me if I wanted to visit her this summer, but now, seeing you here, Kingsley, I’m so glad I said yes. I guess this means we’ll be spending some time together, huh?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow, anticipating my answer.
“In your dreams.” My words were strained. I was too upset to say more. To speak confidently. Too surprised to see Porter standing right in front of me after four years of absence. I wanted to cut his heart out, but at the same time beg him to tell me why he did what he did.
Porter nodded. “You’ve been the star in many of those over the years, Cherry Berry.”
“Stop calling me that!” I shrieked.
Wren wordlessly looked from me to Porter, the tension on his face clear as day.
“I should let you two get dressed. It’s getting a bit chilly out here.” Porter smirked one last time before turning and walking away.
I watched his figure disappear down the beach before throwing on my clothing. Wren quietly did the same.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled after the silence was too much to bear.
&n
bsp; “He seems like a lunatic.” Wren looked down the beach where Porter had disappeared before turning to look at me.
“Listen, we’re still going to have a great time. Porter doesn’t matter.”
“I could be both blind and deaf and still feel the tension between you two,” Wren said with an edge to his voice. He knelt down to pick up the blanket and began folding it carelessly.
“Stop,” I said, grabbing onto his wrists. “There’s nothing you have to worry about. I came here with you, and I’ll be leaving with you.” I gave him a smile, trying my best to reassure him.
“I’m not worried about you leaving me for him. I’m worried about you. He’s done something to you and I know this because you only stopped shaking the moment he left. I’m going to find out what happened and if it’s what I’m assuming, I’m going to kill him,” Wren threatened.
“Don’t say that,” I said, dropping my arms. “It’s complicated and it’s not something I ever want to talk about.”
“Of course not. Why would you want to open up about something from your past?” he asked sarcastically.
“Always back to that.”
“It is our biggest issue, Kingsley,” Wren said, placing the blanket under his arm.
“Can we just go to your parents’ house and have a good time? Forget about what just happened?” I asked.
“Sure, why not,” Wren answered, unenthused.
Besides the chirping sounds coming from the crickets, the walk up to Wren’s house was a quiet one. Two more cars had arrived in the time we’d been on the beach. My nerves kicked into overdrive just knowing that Wren’s parents were right inside, waiting to condemn me.
“Good, my parents are here.”
“This wasn’t a good idea.” I started backing away from him. With every step I took, I became calmer. “I’m not the kind of girl parents like.”
“Get back here,” he ordered. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. “I know you’re nervous, and I know that we have some...kinks to work out, but I’ve met an outrageously special girl and I’m dying for my parents to meet her.” He cupped my face with both hands and kissed my forehead. “So get your ass inside or I’ll carry you.”
In Control (The City Series) Page 9
