The real reason I’m here.
Lifting my left arm up until it’s completely spread out wrist up in front of me, I smile, the knowledge of what I’m about to do making me happy for the first time since I woke up to Eric’s present this morning.
A flash of the boy I love comes into my mind, the way he looks when he’s laughing and it warms me inside but hurts at the same time. What I’m here to do, it’s going to hurt him, I know that, but there’s no other way out. If I want this to stop forever, it has to happen this way, even if I hurt the most beautiful guy I’ve ever known in the process.
In a few minutes, how he feels won’t matter anyway, but when he gets my note, he’ll understand. I hope he does anyway. I didn’t want to leave him, but there’s no denying that when I do, he’ll be better off.
For the first time since he moved here, he’ll be safe. We both will.
Taking the blade and placing it against my skin, lifting my head and letting the sick pervert standing in front of me see the grin that’s taking up my whole face, I slide it across my skin, starting at my wrist and making a straight line all the way up my arm, only shifting my head downward when I see the first traces of my blood start to break through.
Moving to blade to my other hand, catching him moving toward me, I repeat the same action, this time slicing deeper, feeling the stinging pain as I make quick work of my arm before he reaches me and snatches the blade from my hand.
Feeling him gripping onto me, this time not in the way he’s done before, but something different; foreign, I hear the blade make contact with the ground, the clattering sound rising right up until it’s the only sound I can hear besides the steady drum beat in my head as my blood pumps harder, thicker and brighter through the gashes in my arms.
“Amelia, what the fuck are you doing!” I hear him screaming, but it’s hazier than before. Everything going blurry around me, I let my eyes close but not before saying the words I came here to say, the ones that no one but him needs to hear.
“I’ll see you in hell—you sick bastard.”
Eric
It didn’t take much convincing to get what I wanted. Dr. Thompson stood up and left the room pretty much right after I told him what I needed to do and with him out the room, I called the only other person on the planet that I trusted enough to help me.
My mom.
When she picked up, hearing my voice shaking while I just started rambling everything off, I could tell I was scaring her. It’s only when she raised her voice, screaming my name at me that I finally settled enough to listen.
“I’m on my way to get you now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes or less. Do not leave the office until I get there.”
“Please hurry.”
“I will but Eric, please just breathe. Calm yourself. We’ll find her and make sure she’s alright. I promise you.”
How she managed to understand a word I said when I was just rambling everything out in one gigantic run on sentence, not even bothering to take a breath in between, I’ll never know but I was glad she did.
When she showed up ten minutes later, I had my backpack on and I ran out the door toward her. Throwing my arms around her tightly, I did the one thing I hadn’t done since I got out of school earlier, I let the tears come, no longer caring who was around to see or hear me. Let the rest of the world think what they want right now. I needed to get this out before it ate me alive.
“Shhhh. It’s okay baby. It’s all gonna be okay.” She strokes the top of my hair, the way she’s done so many times before when I’m in the middle of a complete shut down and even though it doesn’t stop it completely, it helps. My heart slows just a little and my breathing starts to even out.
“Let’s go. We’ll try her house first.”
The drive seems to take forever and by the time we pull up in front of Amelia’s house, I’m beyond ready to get out of the confines of the car, feeling more closed in than ever. Flinging the door open, I run over the grass until I’m banging on her door. When that gets no response, I repeatedly push the doorbell until finally, I hear the crack and the door comes swinging open.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the woman that greets me yells and not wanting to waste a second, I push past her, heading straight for the stairs, ones I hope will take me to her room. I’ve never been inside of her house before, but since my bedroom is upstairs, I gotta think hers is too.
It’s completely rude and I know I’m probably going to get in trouble for it later, but I need to find her. I need to stop her before she uses the lighter on herself again or something worse.
“Which one is hers?” I scream downstairs even though at the same time screaming at myself, the frustration I have at seeing so many doors and not a lot of time pushing me even further.
“Right in front of you.” The voice calls up and I move forward, pushing the door open until it’s all the way back against the wall. Stepping inside, I see her bed, completely put together, looking like it hasn’t even been touched since she left and scanning around the room, looking for something that will stick out and tell me that she’s been here, my eyes land on the small envelope on her desk.
Moving to the desk, I pick it up and pause. This could be absolutely nothing and opening it up and reading it, I could be invading her privacy. I don’t know how good I feel about doing that so I let it linger in my hand until I hear the scraping at the door.
“Open it.”
Where I’m expecting to see my mom, I come face to face with the lady that opened the door, the same one I saw at school. Amelia’s mother. The one that couldn’t get out of the school fast enough.
“Where is she?”
“She has an appointment with her doctor. Have you checked there?”
I can’t believe this. Amelia’s mother is standing in the doorway, her face so frozen in place, fake that there’s a part of me that wants to take a chisel to her to see if she’s completely made of stone. She doesn’t seem real and her voice is as robotic as her daughters was earlier.
“I just came from there. Where else would she be?”
“With Timothy or Charlotte.”
“She’s not there either.” I don’t know that for sure, but after what happened with Tim today, I’m pretty sure going to see him would be the last place she’d be and Charlotte isn’t much better.
I need to think like Amelia, not Amy. It’s obvious that her mom only knows the monster side of her and not the real daughter she has, the one that needs help that’s buried underneath. She has no idea who the girl I know is.
Sliding my fingers over the envelope, I see that it’s not sealed, so sliding my hand all the way in, I pull it out and unfold it, my fingers shaking so badly, afraid of what I’m going to read that I have to catch it twice when I almost dropped it.
I’m going to make this stop. I can’t take it anymore. I’m tired.
I want to go to sleep forever, but not before I do the one thing I should have done a long time ago.
Eric, I’m so sorry. What happened today never should’ve happened. It wasn’t you, it was me. The names I called you, I didn’t mean them. You’re my rain and you always will be. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t be the person you needed and deserved.
He took all of that away from me fourteen years ago, but I swear, I’m going to take it back. Before all of this ends, I’m gonna take the control back. He’s not going to hurt me or anyone else I love anymore….
I know where she is. The rest of this letter is scary and dark and I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to get to her in time before she does whatever it is she’s planning to do once she gets there, but I know where she is.
All I need now is an address.
“Where does her dad live?” I turn around and ask the stone woman resembling a human that’s still standing in the doorway.
“Why?”
“Because she’s there.”
“If she’s with her father, she’s safe.”
&nbs
p; This woman really doesn’t have a clue at all about the hell Amelia’s been living with and I don’t have time right now to explain it to her.
“Tell me where he lives, right now!” I yell, done being nice to this woman and wasting my time. I need answers and I need them now.
Stepping into the room, she makes her way over to the desk and grabbing a pen from a cup sitting on the edge, she scribbles across the page quickly before placing the pen back down and turning to me, handing it over.
“There.”
“Thank you.”
Before she can respond to me, keep me here any longer with whatever it is she’s going to say next, I run from the room, flying down the stairs until I run straight into my mom who’s standing at the front door, her eyes wide and her face sagging, worried about me and probably worried for Amelia too.
Passing the paper to her, I motion with my hand toward the car.
“We need to get there now. Please.”
Amelia
It was supposed to work.
Take the blade, cut myself open on my arms, the ones that were already fragile because of the burns and let myself bleed out all over him until I passed out and my heart took its last beat.
That’s not what’s happening. I’m still aware. The cuts have taken away a lot of my strength, energy and will to keep my eyes open, but I’m still aware of everything going on around me and what I passed out hearing from my dad is not what’s happening now that I’m awake again.
He’s on top of me, his breath hot against my face and he’s moving back and forth, the same steady motion, rocking. I’ve been here before, I know what this is. He’s even sicker than I thought.
He waited for me to pass out and then he pushed himself inside me.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I came here to end it, not make it happen again. I was supposed to show him what he caused and it was just supposed to end. Not this. Never this.
I open my mouth, attempt to cry out and it gets his attention. He stops moving long enough to look up at me, his cold vacant blue eyes staring straight into my heavily weighted but open ones. He smiles, that grin that turns my stomach every time he’s used it before and I can feel the waves of nausea slamming into me as I watch him.
“Amelia, my sweet angel, you are like a fine wine. You’re always better than the last time.”
The nausea’s turning to bile now, the acid growing inside of me, rising more with each breath he takes, word he speaks. I need to end this. I need to get him off me and end this once and for all. Make this nightmare that is my life stop completely.
Picking up the pace, he moves again and I don’t even try to stop myself from crying out, louder with every move he makes until his lips crash down on mine violently. Forcing the cries to be muffled, vibrating off the inside of his mouth.
Closing my eyes, trying to focus my mind on anything but what’s happening to me now, another wave of nausea sets in, making my head spin and I close my eyes tightly until all I can see, all I can feel is the blackness. Gone are the spots that lingered when he looked at me. Everything is just devoid of color.
Just as it’s about to claim me, pull me back under, I hear it. A loud bang in the distance, followed up by the sound of voices, muffled but not so much that I can’t make them out.
It’s only when the weight of his body is lifted off me, his lips pulled away from my mouth that I’m able to breathe again and I suck in as much air as possible, willing my eyes to open so I can see what’s going on around me before the darkness pulls me completely under.
I feel hands on me and I’m being pulled, but where I expect to be lifted or worse, for my father to come back and throw himself on top of me in order to finish what he started, that’s not what happens at all.
These arms are different, the ones holding me and the smell, clear as day is one I recognize. One I never thought I would ever get to smell ever again after everything that happened today.
Peanut butter and jam.
It’s not just any set of arms holding me. It’s him and if the smell alone wasn’t enough to tell me, what happens next is. His voice. He’s speaking. I can hear him.
“Stay with me Amelia. I’m here. You’re with me and you’re safe. I’ve got you, please stay with me.”
“E—Eric?”
“Oh God! She’s awake!” he calls out and I just know it’s not to me. He’s here with someone, calling out to them to let them know that I’m still here. That I’m broken, out of it but still here. My plan didn’t succeed.
“Amelia, hold on to my hand okay? Keep squeezing it so I know you’re with me. Please don’t stop squeezing it. Help is coming.”
Trying to open my eyes hurts too much, so I just focus on his breathing, feeling bursts of it against my arm and I allow my breathing even though it’s weaker to even out to match it.
“Don’t leave me, Amelia. Even if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, don’t ever leave. I don’t think I can do this without you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eric
Finally lifting the pencil from the sketchpad, I lay it down on the table to the right of me and lean forward, taking in the sleeping beauty in front of me. My scarred, burned and broken phoenix. Here. Alive. Breathing.
Completely owning my soul and not being aware of it.
Five days.
Fifteen hours.
That’s how much time I’ve spent here in this chair, watching her sleep, the rise and fall of her chest as the machines continue to beep with each breath she takes.
I wasn’t too late. I got there in time. I didn’t lose her.
I’m not sure how to handle what I walked in on when the police barreled through the door of her dad’s house. It’s not an image I want to see but despite that, I can’t seem to let it go because of the way my mind works. I finally get why what happened haunts her so much because it haunts me now too.
He was doing things to her, things that no parent, no adult ever should do, no matter how old the person is. My dad might not understand my diagnosis, he might even believe that the way me and my mom are is totally wrong, but he would never do anything like that. Never be that sick.
After they hauled him out of there and they pried me away from holding on to her, they brought her here and while I didn’t stay at first, I’ve made sure to come back every night since.
I can’t be here during the day with her because I can’t promise that she won’t see pain and pity in my eyes. I feel them and they’re so strong that it’s impossible to hide. I want her to get better, connect with her mom again and in order to do that, she has to do it separate from me.
So, just like every other night this week, I sit here and pull out my sketch pad and I draw her while she sleeps. This is Amelia at her most peaceful and even if things never go back to the way they were before what happened at school, I want to have this memory of her forever.
The moment in time where the horror that her life became ended.
Her father is going away for a very long time. With everything Doctor Thompson told them and what I could talk about with what she told me, what I experienced when she had flashbacks around me, there’s no way he’ll see the light of day again and Tim is no better.
They might not be able to get him for everything he did to her when they were kids, but everything he’s been doing at school, especially now that he’s a legal adult in the eyes of the law, well he’s gonna pay and I want to be there when he does, but not for me.
For her. I need to see him pay for what he did to her.
Admitting that I’m in love with one of the people that went out of their way to torture me, turn my life upside down until I felt that ending it was the only relief, it’s not easy but it’s my reality. I love her and even if she wakes up and decides that everything she said that day is right, I’m always going to love her.
Amelia changed me. She made me believe in something again. She made me believe in her.
I’m also go
ing to make sure that she gets these pictures I’m putting together. She needs to know the way I see her and there’s no better way than this. She is my Amelia now more than ever and it’s time she realizes it so she can heal and move on.
Amy Evans is dead and in her place is a phoenix reborn. Amelia. My storm.
Realizing the time, not wanting to be caught here by her knowing that it’s well after visiting hours, I slide up out of the chair, careful to make sure I don’t scrape it across the floor and just like every other night, I lean over, brushing a stray hair out of her face and place the softest kiss to her forehead.
It’s not much, but it’s the only way I know to let her know that I’m here.
Whispering the familiar goodbye and sliding out of the room, I start to slump my way down the hall, same as always, but am stopped in my tracks as two people come around the corner. One I’m surprised to see, the other inevitable.
Cadence and Dillon.
“How’s the sketching coming?” Dillon asks, knowing exactly what I do here every night and I just shrug weakly. It’s hard for me to get up and walk away when I’m not entirely finished the picture, but what has been done is almost as beautiful as she is.
Almost being the key word.
“They’re okay, I guess.”
“Sketching?” Cadence asks, her head immediately lifting toward Dillon.
“Remember me signing to you that day at the ravine?” he whispers and she nods. “Well this is Carmen’s way of letting her hear him.”
Her eyes, they light up in acknowledgement and understanding.
“Eric,” she says, turning her body toward me and away from the guy with his arm still securely wrapped around her. “She’d hear you better if you were the one in there when she wakes up again.”
I know that’s true but I can’t do it. It’s too much for me and I just know that between the way I feel about what happened to her and what would inevitably fall out of my mouth, it’s the last thing that can happen. I’ve managed to screw this up once already, I’m not going to do a repeat performance.
Take Me With You Page 26
