Heavy (Heavy Hearts Book 1)

by Sarah Jane Duncan

  “That sounds great, although it may be a good idea for you to reach out to your teachers, Alexis. Perhaps they can send you work, so you don’t fall behind?”

  As much as school isn’t a priority right now, I nod, knowing I need to make it one so I don’t fail the school year. Failing is the last thing I need if I ever want to get away from my parents and make a life of my own.

  “Well, I think we can work with this information.” Officer Reynolds stands from the couch, and the others follow.

  “Can you please forward those pictures to this email address?” Officer Zimora speaks for the first time, handing Andrea a card.

  “Yes, certainly,” she nods.

  “Wait! Where did you get the video footage of what happened?” I have my suspicions, but I want to know for sure.

  Officer Reynolds looks to Officer Zimora for the answer, “Oh, your neighbour, the young girl Valarie. It seems she’s a bit of a sticky nose when it comes to you.”

  I nod, fighting a grin. I knew it—bloody Valarie. I should be thankful, I guess, but I’m not happy that my private hell has been broadcast on national television.

  “You know her well?” Claudia asks.

  “Kind of,” I shrug, “Maybe not well, but she’s been around when things weren’t ideal. I guess she’s my little guardian angel.”

  “Seems that way. She went to her mother for help. That’s who called triple zero.” Officer Zimora’s deep voice is one that commands attention when he speaks, yet he carries a smile to melt the panties off all the girls. Especially in that uniform.

  “Why would your neighbour have a video of what happened?” Ayden asks confused, and I shrug.

  “Young Valarie has quite the set up in her bedroom. With her corner window, she has a good view over the street as well as your house Alexis. It turns out she has been recording the comings and goings of your family as well as some of the other neighbours.” Officer Zimora explains, “But don’t worry, we have spoken with her parents in regards to the seriousness of respecting the privacy of others. I guess in this case, we should be thankful as the footage is so graphic and damning. There’s no way your brother will be able to get out of the charges. He will be going to prison for a long time when we catch up with him.”

  I hate that everyone knows now, but maybe the video footage is a good thing after all. If it helps keep Mike away from me, then I’m all for it.

  Andrea and Peter usher the authorities out of the apartment while I remain standing in the living room, exhausted and numb.

  “You’re a perve.” Ayden’s warm breath whispers over my ear, snapping me back to reality.

  “What?” Turning, I see a ridiculous shit-eating grin spread across his face.

  “You think Officer Zimora is hot!” He wags his dark eyebrows.

  “What? No!” Needing to avoid the truth and my embarrassing red face, I stalk off back towards the kitchen.

  “Oh yes you do, Alexis West!”

  He thinks he’s hilarious, using my name in full, but I ignore him and pick up the pace, weaving through the kitchen and towards his bedroom.

  “You can’t escape me,” Ayden’s playful tone gets closer, so I run. Heavy feet pound the carpeted floor behind me as I burst through his door with him on my heels. The door slams shut right before strong arms wrap around my waist, and I’m tackled onto the bed. Tears run down my cheeks as laughter spills from me, a sound and feeling that is foreign. Ayden’s light chuckle matches mine, warming my heart, and in a tangle of arms and legs, I somehow end up pinned under the weight of his body with his face close to mine.

  “Just admit it,” Ayden chokes out between chuckles, “You think that cop is hot.”

  “Never! I won’t admit it.” I shake my head, trying to squirm underneath his heavy weight. The move causes more friction between our bodies, igniting a fire within me. Just as affected, Ayden’s deep laughter stops, his smile turning serious as his crystal blue eyes turn dark, settling on my lips.

  All thoughts of officer, whatever his name, vanish as we both stare at each other, breathing deeply, trying to keep our control. Hypnotised by lust and the need to show each other how we feel pushes us towards a line, that if we cross, will change what we have together. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that. The searing heat pumping through my veins tells me my body is ready. My heart’s desire to have his kisses and his touch is stronger than my need to breathe.

  A memory suddenly bursts into my brain, of rough hands and crude acts. My heart races for all the wrong reasons, and I can no longer get air into my lungs. I try to breathe, but nothing happens, and my surroundings become fuzzy as panic sets in. The room becomes suffocating as if the walls, floor, and ceiling are all closing in on me.

  The weight over my body disappears, and I’m pulled up to sit, my hands automatically swinging out, trying to push away.

  “Shh, Lex, it's okay. Shh.”

  Ayden’s voice is soothing. I try to focus on it instead of the images flashing through my mind. Mike. His face. The feel and smell of his vial breath. The way he used his hand on himself while he watched me naked and vomiting.

  Why is this happening now? Ayden and I kissed earlier today, and I was fine. Now I’m consumed by the burn of my lungs as they struggle to get air, while Mike’s revolting face and parts of his body that I never wanted to see, engulf my mind.

  Warm hands cup my face, and I fight the urge to bat them away. It’s okay. I’m safe!

  “Lexi baby, calm down, please. Breathe for me.”

  I’m trying to breathe, but it’s not working. The burn in my chest is a raging fire, and I feel like I’m going to choke.

  “Lex, listen to my voice. Can you hear me?” He sounds so scared. His usually calm, confident tone has vanished. I don’t like that. I don’t want to hear his voice sounding so frightened. It hurts my heart almost worse than the burning in my lungs, so I focus on what he said. He told me to listen to his voice. He asked me if I can hear him. I can, so I force my head to move and nod.

  “Okay, good. Can you feel me, Lex? I’m touching your face. Can you feel that?”

  I can. I can feel his warm hands. They are gentle and soft, and I don’t want them to leave. He has caring hands that deliver magical currents over my skin. I love these hands, and I need these hands, so I nod again, still fighting to breathe.

  “Can you see me, Lexi?”

  Can I see him? Blinking my eyes, I urge them to focus, but they don’t. I can’t see anything. Why can’t I see him?

  “Blink your eyes more, baby. Clear away the tears, try to see me.”

  I blink rapidly, focusing on his voice, which doesn’t sound as scared as before. I continue to blink until my blurred vision begins to clear. The room slowly morphs into focus, and then my sight is dominated by the most caring face I have ever seen. Ayden.

  “Can you see me?”

  Nodding, I feel the air slowly seep into my lungs, but it’s not enough. Ayden smiles, happy I can see him, his eyes showing overwhelming care, a sight I could easily get addicted to seeing.

  “Lexi, use your nose now. Can you smell me? I probably smell like boy cooties, but can you smell it?”

  His eyes dart between each of mine, an edge of desperation in his expression. I focus on him as I try to make my nose work, and when it does, the intoxicating scent of Ayden engulfs me.

  “That’s it. Can you smell me?”

  I nod again, still cupped between his palms.

  “Pretty yuk, hey?” His grin is adorable, the dimple on the left of his mouth caving in. I shake my head in disagreement. He smells good enough to eat.

  It takes a moment to comprehend that I’m breathing again, my lungs filling with the air they so desperately need. As Ayden continues to study my face, reality creeps in, and I realise that I just had some fucked up version of a panic attack. Shit!

  My expression must change because Ayden’s grip on my face tightens, and he ducks to get in my line of sight.

  “It’s okay, Lex.”
/>
  “N-no, it’s n-not.” I can’t hide the tremble in my voice, nor hide the fact that I sound like a chain smoker right now with the husky rasp it brings.

  “Seriously, Lex. After what you’ve been through, what just happened is understandable. Please don’t beat yourself up about this.”

  His compassion is overwhelming. I’m not used to anyone paying me so much attention, but here he is, giving me more than I deserve. Tears spill from my eyes, and he wipes them away with the pad of his thumbs.

  “I don’t deserve you,” I whisper, believing the words.

  “Jesus, Lexi. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. You are so beautiful, so strong and fierce. I am batting way above my average. I’m lucky to have someone like you give me your time.”

  Well, shit. How can I argue with that? Why would I want to? I’m a selfish person, and I want him in my life even if I’m not worthy.

  “Kiss.” It’s all I can say.

  “Kiss?” Ayden, still holding my face in his hands, looks at me in confusion.

  “Kiss.” I nod.

  His brows rise before a grin lights up his face, “Ahhh, Kiss.” He nods knowingly before moving in to place his lips on mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I’m tired—exhausted. I can’t seem to get enough sleep. The more I sleep, the more I seem to need. Darkness weighs heavy on me like chains pulling me down to the bottom of the deepest, darkest ocean. I don’t want to be here in this darkness, but I can’t seem to find my way out. Deception, lies, and crude acts consume my thoughts, making me wish I wasn’t me. Making me wish I didn’t exist to endure such cruelty.

  Everyone knows. All my friends from school, the teachers, the neighbours, they all know. I never wanted anyone to know, never believed it would get as bad as it did either. I had hoped I could hold the facade of a carefree teenager long enough to get through school and then get the hell out of Fox Pines.

  I should be thankful to Valarie for trying to help, but her attempt to help just means I have no choice but to be someone different. Now my friends will look at me as the girl who’s brother assaulted her and who’s dad allowed it to happen. There’s a chance my friends will be disgusted by me and will rid themselves of our friendship. After all, I’m as vile as all the other school outcasts that my friends regard as nothing more than trash. That’s who I am now. I’m the freak no longer worthy of their time.

  “I didn’t last long on the motorbike with my dad. We got maybe one hundred meters before hitting a rock, and we both flew over the handlebars.” Ayden has been telling me stories from his childhood. We are in his bed, where I haven’t moved from while he holds me close, sharing stories with me, being the lifeline that is saving me from falling completely into the darkness. I haven’t spoken, I can’t seem to find my voice, but he continues to talk, somehow knowing that it’s helping me.

  “Mum completely lost her shit, running and screaming after us. She was pissed when she found us rolling around on the ground laughing, covered in mud. It was fun. That’s when I knew I loved that sort of thing, doing things that have an element of danger.”

  He spoke more of the antics he got up to with his dad. It was nice to hear. Sometimes I managed to pull myself out of the darkness enough to focus on his stories, and other times, the darkness was too suffocating.

  His parents pop in to check on me throughout the day, my only response to their request to get a doctor to come and check on me is a shake of my head. I can’t be sure, but my guess is that I’ve completely lost my marbles as a result of having to retell my nightmare to the authorities yesterday. The memories are too much. The need to close my eyes and sleep is paralysing, and the times that I submit to the demand, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to force my way back to reality again. That’s how I spend my Sunday with Ayden. Numb, consumed by darkness.

  Fortunately, when I wake early Monday morning, I’m relieved to find the black hole I was in is just a lingering shadow, and I’m able to see a little light. The chill of the morning air fills Ayden’s room, and all I can hear is his slow, steady breathing as he sleeps soundly next to me.

  Sitting up carefully, so I don’t wake him, I stare at his peaceful face, feeling something warm inside my chest when I look at him. It’s kind of overwhelming at how my heart seems almost happy and sad at the same time. It both hurts and feels good, which is nothing short of confusing.

  The need to pee stops me from ogling Ayden, so I carefully slide off the bed and lock myself in the bathroom. Showering feels fantastic, the heat soothing my healing body. What isn’t fantastic is the time I have to think while showering. I hate my stupid brain right now! Why can’t I just switch it off? Why does it want to torture me all the time? I attempt to focus on something else, and my mind goes to the bits and pieces of stories that Ayden told me yesterday, trying to imagine him as a kid running around, causing havoc with his dad.

  I’m jealous. I never had what he has with his dad. I never will. Not even my mum has made the time to create fun memories with me. The most fun we ever had was when she came home smoking a joint after a night out with her friends last year, and that only lasted for an hour before she passed out and then forgot about the laughs we had when she woke the next day.

  Sick of my thoughts, I finish up in the shower and try to make myself look presentable. Not for the first time, I curse the mirror for being so efficient at showing me my hideous reflection. Although the swelling has gone down, the still healing bruises on the side of my face are an ugly reminder of the hell I escaped.

  I have no makeup with me to even attempt to cover the evidence Mike left on my face. Nor do I have my purse so I can go shopping to buy some makeup. Ugh, everything just sucks dog’s balls!

  Knowing my mood won’t improve if I continue to look at my reflection, I throw my hair up in a messy bun and get dressed in my black skinny jeans and Ayden’s hoodie before slipping back into his room. He’s still sound asleep.

  My nose alerts me to the delicious smell of bacon, so I follow it into the kitchen, quietly leaving Ayden to get some well-deserved sleep. I find Andrea cooking up some scrambled eggs to go with the bacon, which smells divine, nearly making me moan out loud.

  “Good morning, Lexi,” her smile is warm as her eyes follow me, “hungry?”

  “Can you adopt me?” Andrea chuckles at my question, not realising that I am serious. Well, maybe not, but hey, she’s offering me bacon!

  “You’re pretty hungry, hey?”

  Andrea joins me at the table, handing me a plate of heaven, and we both tuck in like we are starved animals. The silence is easy as we eat. I find that I’m quite comfortable with her, and I’m not sure if it’s because she reminds me so much of Ayden, or if I just trust her that much.

  “Yesterday was a tough day.” Andrea breaks the silence, going straight for the jugular. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about Ayden’s mum, it’s that she doesn’t beat around the bush.

  Nodding in response, I feel my face heat with embarrassment.

  “I’ll be honest Lexi, I was a little worried there for a while. Does that happen often?” She’s referring to my comatose state.

  I’m good at denial. I was going to play that card for the entire day, but Andrea isn’t likely to let this drop, so there’s no escaping her question.

  “No,” I shake my head and stare at my food, not wanting to read her thoughts in her expression, “honestly, I don’t think I have ever felt safe enough to let myself feel that much…” I struggle to finish the sentence.

  “Pain?” Andrea understands with a nod.

  She’s quiet for a few moments, her eyes roaming my face as she thinks. Is this what normal mums are like? Abbey’s mum isn’t like Andrea, though, so perhaps she’s just something special.

  “So if you had of let yourself feel that pain in the past, you would have made yourself vulnerable to your brother?” Yep, she understands.

  Nausea rolls the eggs I just ate, and my breathing deepens, trying to help it p
ass. Throwing up right now wouldn’t be ideal. Also, wasting the delicious food that Andrea cooked should be considered illegal. I give Andrea another nod, feeling the shame I wear like a glove these days. I don’t want to talk about this stuff, not now, not ever. Once again, all I want is to be out of this situation—the urge to flee nudges my control.

  Sighing, Andrea reaches across the table, taking my hand, “Lexi, I don’t know if you need to hear this, but I’m so sorry that all of this has happened to you. I’m sorry you haven’t had parents that protect you the way you deserve.” Her eyes gloss over as if she may cry. “I am, however, glad that you feel safe enough here with us to let go and feel what you need to feel. It may not seem like it, but you need to let yourself feel all the pain in order to heal.”

  Tears fall from my eyes before I even realise, “It hurts so much. I don’t want to feel it.” I whisper, and she gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

  “I know you don’t, and I know you don’t want to talk about it either, but talking will help.”

  I nod again because, apparently, that’s all I know how to do.

  Peter enters the kitchen humming to himself, so I wipe away my tears while he’s busy drooling over the pan of bacon on the bench.

  Someone once told me that we can’t control the actions of others, but we can control how we react to their actions. At the time, I didn’t know what those words meant, but now I do. I can let the vulgar things that Mike did, control me, and turn me into a scared shell of myself, or I can stand tall and refuse to let it break me. Sounds easy enough, right?

  I wish I could find the strength to take my own advice right in this moment. Perhaps over time I will, but right now, I feel so raw and exposed, like all of my weaknesses are on display to the world.

  Baby steps, Lexi.

  How can I try to take back control of my life today?

  I immediately think of how I can’t stand to look at my reflection. Every time I see myself, I’m reminded of what Mike did. I’m sick of seeing it, and I want to feel less like a monster. In order to do that, though, I’m going to need a shit load of makeup. I know it’s not a world-dominating step, but feeling a little more human in my own skin will help me to feel like I have some sort of control. I wouldn’t exactly call myself vain, but I’ve never hated my looks and kind of think I’m pretty. Well, I was pretty until Mike turned my face into a swollen purple and green ogre. I hate that fucker!