by R. J. Lewis
“Was this really the best you could do?” I asked Cindy, who was practically sitting on my lap.
“I don’t have my licence yet, so yeah, this was the best I could do, princess,” she replied.
“Is there something wrong?” asked the driver, looking over his shoulder at me. He was a meathead, and the last thing I wanted was to disgruntle a man who probably had a long history of ‘roid rage.
“Nope,” I lied.
The car pulled out of the driveway and screeched down the streets. People tumbled against people. Cindy’s ass was now over my knees and her arm was pressed against the window of the van as it twisted and turned viciously, tossing us around the congested death trap. It was a fucking joke. I was almost convinced I’d die of the smell, but then it stopped suddenly on the side of the street and we all filed out like cockroaches under a light.
“Next time transportation is on me,” I hissed at Cindy as I straightened my clothes.
She laughed and wrapped her arm around mine. “We made it in one piece. I deserve more credit than you give me.”
“Honestly, how did you even get that ride?”
“You may be hotter than me, but the guys still like me enough to extend a favour here and there.”
“I’m not hotter than you. You just have low self-esteem. You’re gorgeous, dumbass.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll believe it when a hot doctor hands me his umbrella under the rain, El.”
We walked down the sidewalk, and I watched as more people jumped out of their cars and joined us. By the time we made it to the giant lit house on the end of the street, we were a large crowd of teenagers, most carrying packs of beer in their hands. Cindy remained close to my side as we marched up the porch steps and opened the door. We stepped into havoc. There were people everywhere. Music pumped through the house, bottles of alcohol lay empty on the hallway floor, kicked around by dozens of passing drunks moving in and out.
I could hear ruckus laughter and shouts over the music. We followed the sounds to a large living area. The sliding door to the backyard was open and cold wind whipped inside. I spun around the room, my eyes feasting on the guys downing their drinks, the girls dancing in their own groups, and the countless bottles of unopened alcohol on the coffee table.
“What do you wanna do now?” I heard Cindy ask me.
My eyes continued to travel around the room, continuously lingering back on the alcohol. I listened to the music and suddenly wanted to feel it in my bones. I’d felt stale for so long, and in a span of a day I had beaten the snot out of a girl, stolen her wallet and got suspended from school.
I needed this day to end, and I didn’t want to look back and remember a single moment of how it ended. The people I had cared about the most had forgotten me. Tonight, I would forget them.
“Now we have some fun,” I told Cindy, determined.
Our first stop was the alcohol.
*
There were so many things about that night I could remember vividly. Drinking a beer, then doing Bacardi Limon shots among a group of jocks who shouted at me to keep going. Then I did something I hadn’t done in so long. I listened to Hayden’s advice and just…danced. The alcohol took over, and I felt wondrously loose and free. I hadn’t danced like that since Dad died. I went to the bathroom sometime after and shuddered at the condom wrappers on the tile floor. I washed my hands before catching sight of the cracked sink, and then I analysed that cracked sink, wondering if it’d broken under the weight of several fucks.
After that, I returned to more shots, and then…things got a bit blurry. Cindy danced with a guy, and made out with him for what I thought was a very long time. Then I was suddenly on the couch, talking to a guy who was passing me more alcohol. It was rum and coke and it tasted awful. I shook my head but still drank. He got closer to me, and I felt his fingers on my hair, and I liked the feeling because I was so numb and the attention was nice.
I heard screams and a blurry blonde was pointing at my face, telling me I was chatting to her boyfriend. “You’re going to make me apologize for your boyfriend’s shit behaviour? I don’t fucking think so,” I remembered saying. She flipped me off, and I laughed carelessly, and that pissed her off some more. Her boyfriend had to carry her out, and I said something to her, something not so nice judging by the wide eyes of people around me, but I didn’t know what.
I drank something else by the bucket loads. It was cinnamon flavoured and it burned the back of my throat. I liked the burn. It was addictive, but it also made me want to hurl. I slumped back on the couch, my eyes glazed as I watched people chatter like little mice around me. When I ran out of drinks, I got up and things went black again.
I was back on the couch and drinking more shots. People continued moving from room to room, like waves the room receded into almost emptiness and then flooded back in again with little crowds everywhere. All the while the music continued to bleed from one song to the next.
“It’s the brother-fucker,” came a giggling voice. I followed it to the blurry face of one of the bitches that tried to pull me off Michelle.
“Do you want me to fuck you up?” I brazenly asked her, glaring at her evenly. I felt immortal. Alcohol had given me a fearless edge.
She heard me and hesitated, staring at my face before she rapidly turned away to her friends. Not so fucking tough now. I continued staring her down, until her face reddened and her whole body tensed. After some time, she took a girl by the arm and steered her out of the room.
Someone in passing – I didn’t know who – passed me another shot of that cinnamon burn, and I guzzled it down. Then I was suddenly back inside the bathroom, kneeling once more, analysing the crack in the sink like it was some fucking Doctor Who crack in the universe before I stood up. The fast movement made my head swim and I almost threw up. I clutched the edges of the sink with both hands and looked up. My eyes connected to the mirror and they widened at the reflection. My make-up was shocking. I had raccoon eyes, my hair was in my pale face. I was practically unrecognizable, but I didn’t seem to care.
Go out and finish this night.
I was floating with the music when I re-joined the others. I searched for Cindy for a long time, but I couldn’t find her. Vaguely, I remembered her telling me she was going to do something, but the timeline was so messed up in my head, I didn’t know how long ago that was. I settled on dancing again. A guy wrapped his arms around me and I rested my head against his chest, forgetting, feeling numb, pretending it was Aston.
More blackness.
And then I was screaming and shoving the guy away. “You left me!” I screamed over and over again. “You left me when I needed you the most!”
More blackness.
I was running out of the house, falling to the ground, slumped against the fence of the backyard. I felt scared and I couldn’t recall the exact reason why. I was shaking everywhere, glancing at the backdoor of the house like some evil being would come out of it. The world spun and I wanted to throw up, but nothing happened. I cried and closed my eyes instead, dozing in and out for seconds at a time.
“Please stop,” I muttered, half-consciously aware someone was touching me. I smelled booze and heard ragged breaths as a body pressed over mine. Hands went where they shouldn’t go and I cried harder, realizing the evil being I’d been running from was Deck.
“You’re not saying no this time,” he rasped angrily as he shoved my pants down. My hands shot up and tried pushing him away but he overtook me and continued until they were completely off.
“Stop, stop,” I howled at him, my nails digging into flesh. “Stop!”
“You’ve fucking lost it,” he chuckled. “No one will believe you after I’m done. So shut the fuck up and enjoy it.”
I struggled beneath him and went crazy, but he forced me so hard against the earth, I felt strangled and trapped. I could hardly breathe as he lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Where’s your fucking guard to protect you now, Elise?”
Panic swarmed me. I blacked out for seconds from the terror of it all as he started on my underwear. I was so still, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t moving. Inside my head, I was screaming to fight, but my body was so tense and frightened, I couldn’t get it to work. I was in shock. Pure shock. This was my fault. Again. I’d put myself in this position, vulnerable to him and others. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I was asking for it. Maybe I should shut the hell up and let him just take it so he could finally leave me the fuck alone.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” I’d asked Aston after the first time I was forced by Deck. “You’re not saying anything because it’s my fault. I was probably asking for it.”
He’d gripped my face and leaned closer to me, until I was swimming in his green eyes. He stared hard at me and I saw the anger he’d been suppressing; a kind of rage that he was trying not to frighten me with. I also saw his horror and fear, and his desperate need to protect me. I felt so comforted by that look. It did things to me I couldn’t describe. “Don’t,” he told me, “Don’t you fucking dare blame yourself. None of this was your fault.”
He was right.
I felt my body move again, and the fight in me finally travelled to my bones. I opened my mouth and screamed as loud as I could. Deck’s hand went over it, forcing it shut. My nose was blocked from my crying, and I couldn’t breathe. He was strangling me and didn’t know it. I shook beneath him, trying to get a breath in. My hands grabbed at anything I could. His hair, his face, his arms. I clawed so hard, he winced and growled, and his grip around my mouth loosened. I sucked in a breath of air and then I bit down hard on his knuckle. I bit like it was a piece of meat to a mutt and tasted blood. He moved off me just as voices shouted at him. Like a spooked animal, he got up and fled. A commotion ensued, an angry yell sounded out and I heard a voice…a voice that was so familiar.
“What did I say about touching her?!” he screamed.
Aston?
No way, it couldn’t be.
I tried hard to turn my head, but it felt like a bowling ball. Too delirious, I passed out.
When I opened my eyes again, someone was flashing a light in my eyes and I went crazy. No, I didn’t want to be touched again! NO! I shouted and cursed, pushing the person away every time he neared. Cindy’s voice rang out in the background. She told me to calm down, but I didn’t listen. I went nuts. More arms wrapped around me and I was being picked up, carried away and settled inside the back of a flashing ambulance.
I was reckless. I screamed and cried and got pulled back into the darkness. When I came to again, I was forced down a hospital bed by nurses. Voices spoke all around me, some familiar, others not. I continued thrashing my body like some insane mental patient until something pricked my skin.
Everything went loopy, and I knew, before I passed out, they had sedated me.
24.
Elise
Confused, I opened my eyes in the silence and looked up at the ceiling. My mouth was dry and my head ached. I opened my mouth to breathe because my nose was blocked.
I sighed softly, searching my mind for events. Images from last night flashed before my eyes, and I cringed inwardly at my behaviour. Fuck, I was a monkey. What the hell had I done? I groaned in humiliation. I disappointed myself most of all. If this was how I felt about what I did remember, what would I feel after I learned all the other things I had done?
And then…then I remembered Deck. His hands. My pants being removed. His body trapping me into the ground. That fear made me tense because I could still feel its grip inside my chest. Had I pushed him off me before he’d done it? I didn’t feel any different between my legs, and my whole body ached as it was, so…no, he didn’t. I’d bitten him and he’d pushed off. Yes, that was what happened.
Relief eased my fears and I took a few deep breaths, telling myself it was going to be okay.
I felt like I was floating. I was drunk still. I raised my arm and the movements were slow. Horrified, I looked at the IV in my wrist and followed the tube to the pouch of clear liquid it was attached to. Oh, my God. Why did I need this?
“How are you feeling?”
My eyes broke away from the IV stand and at the deep voice across the room. My heart hiccupped a little in my chest. Doctor Crowe. Hayden. Matt Bomer doppelganger. Whatever he was called. He was in the room, leaning back against the wall, looking at me. How long had he been here? Why was he here?
“I feel like shit,” I rasped out.
His lips crooked up on one side. “I would be too. You had alcohol poisoning. 3.16 percent. Lot of people die at 4, by the way.”
I slowly sat up on my bed, digesting his words. The room spun again and I huffed. “How long am I going to be feeling like this?”
“A little while longer.”
I swallowed. “I, uh…Is there water around?”
“Right next to you.”
I looked at the overbed table against my bed and at the plastic cup on top. I grabbed it with shaky fingers and sipped the lukewarm water. God, my throat ached. It was hard to swallow down. I felt queasier every passing second, and after three sips, I put the cup back down.
We didn’t speak for several minutes. I looked at him and he looked back at me. I didn’t know what the hell he was doing.
“I thought I heard your voice,” I whispered. “At least, I think I did.”
“I was here when they brought you in,” he replied.
I winced. “I’m sorry…I don’t know what happened.”
“You were very drunk.”
“I’ve never…that’s never happened to me before.”
He stared at me hard for several seconds. “Your mother was called. She said she’d come down sometime this morning, along with a police officer. Apparently there was an incident with a man.”
I swallowed thickly. “He didn’t…get there.”
Ugh, why was I telling him this?
He looked at me like that mattered a lot to him. “I’m very relieved to hear that, Elise.”
I cleared my throat, feeling awkward as ever now. I regretted saying anything. It wasn’t his business one bit. “You don’t…You don’t have to be here.”
“I’m off-shift,” he said. “I’m about to go. I just wanted to see how you were before I headed out.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you want to see me before you headed out?”
He sighed quietly, his brows furrowed. “You remind me of someone.”
I gave him a strange look. “Is that a bad thing?”
“She was very destructive.”
“Is that what I am?”
“Yeah.”
I frowned and looked back down at my hands. “You’re wrong.”
He chuckled wryly. “You came to me with a hand split open after you wielded an axe around. Months later I find you on a bench, bawling your eyes out over a horrible loss. Then you’re dragged in here last night, kicking and screaming, your alcohol content through the roof, and your behaviour deplorable. You also have a wallet that belongs to a Michelle in your purse, and I’m not going to start jumping to conclusions, but upon discovering your scratches and bruises on your body, your friend stated you had also gotten into an altercation at school with a girl by the name of Michelle.” He tilted his head to the side, looking at me evenly. “Am I still wrong?”
I blinked back tears. “When you say it like that…”
I sounded like a fucked up lunatic. What had possessed me to react that way? It sounded like a stranger. Had I really fallen so far?
“It’s okay to cry,” he said sympathetically. “You’re depressed.”
I scoffed. “I’m eighteen,” I rasped out. “What does an eighteen-year-old really have to be depressed about?”
“On the contrary, everything. Eighteen is a scary number. Life hits you hard. You’re officially an adult, and you discover there’s nothing really great about it. You’re part of the system, and the system eats you alive and doesn’t care th
at you lost your father, or that you’re alone. Eighteen is a violent number when it wants to be to a person as vulnerable as you.”
I didn’t speak. He’d knocked me speechless. I just nodded at him, though his words travelled to the deepest part of me.
“And what happened last night to you,” he added, frowning now, “was not your fault. It’s very important you know that.”
My bottom lip quivered so much, I had to bite it. I nodded again at him, no words.
He pushed off the wall and took a step forward. He glanced out the door of the room before looking back at me. “Down the block from the bus stop we chatted at, there’s a bookstore. It’s called Bookworm.” When he caught my look, he chuckled. “My mother thought of the name, not me. I’d have been more original. Anyway, I’m there Fridays and Sundays if you ever need to talk. There’s also a spot available for work if you’re looking for it. I can put a good word in.”
I smiled softly. “You think I need a job?”
“Better than stealing wallets, right?”
“I have a job already, and I didn’t steal that wallet. I picked it up and…” Ugh. I sighed, resignedly. “Okay, I took it. It wasn’t intentional, I swear. I haven’t used the money. I put te wallet back in my purse intending on returning it…sometime.”
He smiled back. “I’ll believe it when it happens, Elise.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
He licked his bottom lip thoughtfully as he studied me. “There’s a small gathering tomorrow at the bookstore at eight. It’s a book club but we always welcome newcomers. My mother likes to do readings followed by dinner, usually pizza or something. You’re welcome to join if you’re free.”
“Will you be there?”
He smiled again. “Yeah, I will be.”
Was the doctor asking me – the drunken eighteen-year-old destructive moron – out on a date? It didn’t really seem like it, and I hoped he wasn’t. What first dates involved taking your date to the bookstore your mom owned? Still, it was a nice gesture whatever it was, and I didn’t to look at it as anything more than that.
Before I could answer, a form filled the doorway, drawing me out of the conversation. I turned my head and froze. My eyes widened and my heart picked up. Aston. I blinked hard, but not even my drunken eyes deceived me. It was him, plain as day. It was Aston.
