by Kai Juniper
"Yeah, got it. If I can keep a secret about the accident, I can keep a secret about this. So who did it?"
I blow out a breath. "My father."
His eyes widen. "Your dad did that?"
"We got in a fight and...he lost his temper."
"Fuck yeah, he did. What the hell? Has he done this before?"
"Yeah," I mutter. "I think I'll take that beer." I go to the fridge and get it.
Parker turns to me as I close the fridge. "How bad does your dad look? I'm guessing you beat the shit out of him."
I don't answer. I open the beer and drink it down, noticing I don't feel the same type of relief I felt when Ella found out my secret. Why is it different with Parker?
"You beat the shit out of him, right?" Parker says.
"It doesn't work that way." I swig what's left of my beer. "You want to go do something? I don't feel like sitting around here."
Parker laughs. "You let him do that to you and didn't fight back?"
I knew he wouldn't understand. I never should've told him. He's not like Ella. He doesn't know me the way she does. He doesn't understand the situation. If he did, he wouldn't be giving me that look right now, like I'm an idiot for not fighting back.
"Just shut the fuck up, okay?" I say, walking out of the kitchen.
Parker follows me. "You seriously didn't do anything? You just stood there and let him hit you?"
"Shut the fuck up!" I turn and grab him by the shirt, yanking him up to my face. "You tell anyone about this, I'll fucking kill you!"
"If you won't even hit your dad, I'm not too worried about it."
I let him go, then swing my arm back and punch him so hard he stumbles back.
"What the fuck?" He rubs his jaw as blood drips from his nose.
I go up to him. "That was a warning. You tell anyone about this, you'll end up a lot worse. Keep your fucking mouth shut!"
He mumbles something as I storm to the door. I go out to my car, and as I'm driving away, I pass Finn. Parker better not tell him what I said. He better not tell anyone. If he does, I'll deny it. I'll say he made it up.
Fuck! Why did I tell him?
For the next hour I drive around, not wanting to go home. My dad isn't there, but I still hate it. I hate being in that house. It's cold and dreary and filled with bad memories. The only good memories are the ones I have of Ella being there. The day we spent at the pool. The night we spent in my bed.
I want to see her. I can't, but I want to. I need to warn her. She can't control my father, but she at least needs to know he's a threat. I owe her that. I've done so much bad shit to her. I can't go back and change it, but I can at least tell her the truth about what's going on.
Before I change my mind, I pull up to her house and go to the door.
"Ella." I knock on the door several times. "Ella, I need to talk to you."
The door opens, and when I see her standing there, I feel this intense need to take her in my arms. I want to hold her, and feel her against my chest. It's the only thing that would make me feel better right now. But I can't do it. Ella and I are over.
"What do you want?" she asks in a cold, angry tone.
It's what I deserve after how I treated her last week. She tried to be nice, offered to help me, told me she was there for me for whatever I needed, and what did I do in response? I told her to leave me alone. I told her what we had meant nothing. I told her it was all an act. I told her I was only pretending to be friends with her so she'd hand over the valedictorian title.
I hated myself for saying those things to her. I hated seeing the hurt on her face, knowing I was causing her pain. But I did it because I had to, because I needed whatever it was we had together to end, for good. I couldn't keep going back to her, falling for her even more, but I was too fucking weak to stop myself. So I needed Ella to stop it, which would only happen if she hated me. I thought saying all those horrible things to her would make her hate me, and maybe it did, but it also hurt her, which is not what I wanted. I never wanted to hurt her.
"Briggs, what do you want?" she asks.
"I need to talk to you."
"I've heard enough," she says, trying to shut the door.
I hold it open. "Ella, you need to hear this. It's about my father."
Chapter Nineteen
Ella
"What about him?" I ask, the anger I was feeling now mixed with concern. I hate Briggs for how he treated me last week, but I still care about him. "Did he...?" I don't even want to say it, or think about it. I'm still horrified by what I saw Briggs' dad do to him.
"No. He hasn't been home much. He's been at the office."
"Then what's this about?"
"Is your dad here?" Briggs asks, trying to look past me into the house.
"He's out with Susan."
"Can I come inside?"
"Just tell me out here."
"Ella, c'mon. I won't stay long. Just let me in."
I step aside and let him go past, noticing his cologne and trying not to let it affect me. Why do scents evoke so many memories? Just that tiny hint of his cologne and the way it mixes with his skin has me remembering being in his bed, laying on his chest, being wrapped in his arms.
According to him, none of it was real. All those days and nights we spent together, talking and doing more, were just his way of getting me to do what he wants. When he told me that, I didn't want to believe him. What we had together never felt fake. Part of me still doesn't believe it. The Briggs I fell for would never use me that way, which makes me think he wasn't being truthful, and that he only told me that to keep me away. He's angry that I saw his father hit him, and now he can't be around me. He's too embarrassed, and ashamed. If any of that's true, I wish he'd tell me. I wish he'd let me help him.
"I won't stay long," he says, standing just a few feet from the door.
"You can sit down." I go past him to the couch.
He joins me, but sits on the opposite end of the couch. "My father wants to punish you for being valedictorian."
"Punish me? For getting good grades?"
"For being better than me." He leans forward, staring down at the floor. "A Chadwick doesn't let other people be first. My father's told me that for as long as I can remember. He'd rather have me dead than not be valedictorian."
"Briggs, don't say that. He doesn't want you dead."
"Trust me, it'd be a hell of a lot easier for him if I were dead. He'd get sympathy from people instead of having to be ashamed and embarrassed."
"He's not ashamed of you."
Briggs huffs. "You don't know my father." He turns to me. "This isn't about me. I came here to talk about you. My father's coming after you, Ella. I don't know what he's planning, but I needed you to know so you can be careful."
"What are you saying? You think he'd hurt me? For being valedictorian?"
"He's capable of most anything. You saw what he did to me."
I'm suddenly not feeling very good. My stomach's knotting up and I'm feeling short of breath.
Briggs moves closer to me on the couch. "Ella, I'm sorry this is happening. If I could stop it, I would, but I don't know how. When my father gets his mind set on something, he doesn't stop until he gets it."
"Why would he do this? He doesn't even know me. And I didn't do anything wrong. I shouldn't be punished for getting good grades. I worked hard for those grades."
"He doesn't care about that. All he cares about is how this looks to other people. He can't have his son coming in second place, especially to a girl, and especially to one who isn't..." He rubs his jaw.
"Isn't what? Rich?" I huff. "So this is about more than me being valedictorian. It's about your dad hating people who don't have money. Oh, and hating women too." I shake my head. "I can't believe this. Taking my house wasn't enough? He has to do more?" I look at Briggs. "Did you at least try to talk him out of this?"
"I tried. I swear. I begged him to leave you alone, but it only made it worse."
"What do you mean?
"
"He said it's my punishment, for not telling him you were valedictorian. When he found out someone was ahead of me in class, he kept asking who it was. I wouldn't tell him. But then he found out. And now he's going to punish me."
"By coming after me? That doesn't make sense."
"It does," Briggs says.
"I don't understand."
"Think about it, Ella."
"I am, and I don't get it. Why doesn't he just punish you and not me?"
"Because it's a million times worse if he does it to you." Briggs looks me in the eye. "He knows about us. He knows we were together."
"Yeah? So? Tell him it was all an act. Tell him you don't have feelings for me, that you made it all up."
"He'd know I was lying. He already does. He saw us together. He could tell."
"Tell what? I don't get it. All last week you said it was an act, that all the time we spent together meant nothing to you. That I meant nothing to you."
His eyes remain on mine. "I lied."
"About what part?" I ask, my heart thumping harder.
"All of it." He moves until he's right next to me on the couch. "My father knows how much you mean to me. That's why I'm so afraid of what he'll do. It's why I'm here warning you. If you were just some girl at school, he'd go after your grades, probably try to change them in the system, but that would be it. He'd get what he wanted and be done. But knowing how I feel about you, he'll take it farther. He'll try to destroy you, or destroy your father's business."
"My dad's business?" I say, getting angry. "He's worked his whole life building that business! Briggs, you have to stop him!"
"I would, but I don't know how. I don't even know what he's planning. I just know it's bad."
"Then tell him you don't care about me. Tell me whatever he thought you felt for me is wrong."
"Believe me, I've tried. I've told him I hate you. I've told him over and over that I hate you but he doesn't believe me." Briggs looks down. "Because it's not true. I don't hate you, Ella."
"I don't hate you either," I say, barely above a whisper.
We sit in silence a moment, then I get up, feeling too anxious to sit.
"We need to stop him," I say. "There has to be a way. Maybe you could start dating someone else so he knows you don't care about me anymore."
I hate even suggesting that. I don't want to see Briggs with someone else, but I don't know what else to do.
"It wouldn't change anything," Briggs says, getting up and standing in front of me. "He'd know it wasn't real. He knows how hard I've fallen for you. He knows my feelings for you wouldn't just go away if I was with someone else."
I sigh. "Briggs, I can't keep doing this. I can't keep playing these games where you pretend that you like me, then pretend that you don't. I think it's better if we just—"
"I love you," he blurts out.
I stare at him, thinking this must be another one of his lies.
"Ella, say something," he says.
"Go." I point to the door.
"Seriously? I tell you I love you and you tell me to leave?"
"I've had enough of your stupid games." I narrow my eyes at him. "Just so you know, it's really cruel to play with someone's emotions like this. Calling me names? Making up stories about me at school? It's stupid and immature, but this? Telling me you love me, then telling me later it was all a joke? That's just cruel."
"I wasn't joking," he says.
I got to hand it to him, his acting skills are amazing. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was being sincere.
I walk to the door and open it. "Goodbye, Briggs."
He meets me at the door, closing it and backing me against it. "This isn't a joke. I was telling you the truth."
I laugh. "That you love me? Yeah, right."
"What do I have to do to prove it?"
"Stop bullying me at school would be a start."
"Done," he says, staring into my eyes. "What else?"
"Let me think." I chew on my lip as my mind works. "Oh! I know. How about you stop lying to me? The truth would be nice."
"The truth about what?"
"About everything. About why you started bullying me sophomore year. About what's really going on with you and your dad." I look away. "About why you said you love me."
He backs away. "Let's go sit down."
I watch as he returns to the couch.
"Is this some kind of trick, or are you really going to tell me stuff?"
"Just get over here before I change my mind."
When I'm back beside him on the couch, he turns to me. "What do you want to know first?"
"Why you bullied me."
"It was because of your dad."
"Yeah, you said that, but it doesn't make sense. What does my dad have to do with it?"
"You had what I wanted."
"Meaning what?"
"You had a father that..." He blows out a breath. "A father who doesn't care if you screw up or don't meet his expectations. A father who shows up at your games, even when you're just sitting on the bench. A father who tells you he—" Briggs rubs his jaw.
"Loves me?"
He nods. "I never had that, and I knew I never would. But you did, and I fucking hated you for that."
"I don't get it. Why is that a reason to bully me?"
"I didn't say it made sense. Back then, all I wanted to do was get rid of the hate I felt towards my father not being like yours. I took it out on you. I shouldn't have, but I didn't know how else to get rid of the rage I felt every damn time I saw your father at school, supporting you, being there for you. My father wouldn't even go to my games. He didn't even go when we were in the playoffs." He looks at me. "I'm not saying any of that makes what I did to you okay. I'm just trying to explain why I did it."
I understand what he's saying, but he still shouldn't have treated me that way.
"What about the other stuff?"
"What do you want to know?"
"When did this start with your dad? When did he start hitting you?"
Briggs leans back on the couch. "It started after my mom left. He was angry she took off and blamed it on me, saying I was a shitty son who wasn't worth sticking around for."
How could his father say that? I can't imagine my dad ever saying something that hateful to me.
"I knew it wasn't true," Briggs says. "My mom even told me. She said she left because she needed a break from him."
"Did he hit her too?"
"I think so. When I told her it was happening to me, she said something about him getting rough with her in the bedroom. I didn't want to know any more, so I didn't ask."
"Wait—you told your mom what your dad was doing to you?"
"Yeah. I told her a few weeks ago."
"Then why isn't she here? Why isn't she getting you out of that house?"
Briggs shrugs. "She said I just need to deal with it."
So both his parents are crazy. I'm starting to understand why Briggs is so mean to people. He didn't grow up with an example of how to be kind or loving. His parents use threats and apathy to keep Briggs in line. His father threatens him and his mother dismisses him, tactics Briggs now uses to deal with people at school. He threatens people so they're afraid of him, or ignores them so they’re begging for his attention. It's all making sense now. It's not that Briggs wants to act this way. It's just all he knows.
"Anyway," Briggs says, "about a week after my mom left, my dad came home drunk and started knocking me around. At first it was just a few slaps to my face, but then it got worse. He started punching me, throwing me against the wall." He shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about this. You saw what he did. And now you think I'm..." He looks down.
"What?"
"Weak," he mutters.
"Are you kidding?" I clutch his arm. "Briggs, look at me."
He slowly looks up.
"You're one of the strongest people I know. I don't know how you've been going through all this and still been able to get good
grades and win rugby games."
"I played like shit last night," he mutters.
"You shouldn't have even played. You're hurt." I lift up his shirt and cringe when I see the bruise on his stomach. It looks even worse than it did last week. I drop his shirt and hug him. "I'm so sorry, Briggs. I'm sorry you have to go through this."
"I don't want your pity. That's not why I'm telling you this."
"I know that." I pull back and look at him. "I just need you to understand that I don't think you're weak. I've never once thought that."
"I didn't fight back."
"How could you? You live in his house. If you fought back, he'd kick you out, and then what? You drop out of school?"
"It'd be better than living with him." He looks down. "I hate myself for not fighting back."
"Briggs." I grip his hand. "This isn't a fight you're having with some guy at school. This is your father, the man who's supposed to take care of you and protect you, but instead he's manipulating and controlling you, telling you you deserve what he's doing to you. It's not easy to fight back when he's doing that to you."
"It's not just that. There's another reason I haven't fought back."
"What is it?"
"It sounds stupid now. I don't even want to say it."
"I asked for the truth, so tell me."
"The car." He looks at me. "My father promised me the car if I'm valedictorian, but he won't follow through if I beat the shit out of him."
"Wait—I thought the valedictorian thing was about your dad."
"It was, and it is, but it's also about the car. If he puts it in my name, like he promised, I can sell it. It's worth almost 300 grand."
"So this is about money?"
"It's about my freedom. If I get that money, I can get the hell out of that house, for good, and never go back. I'll be able to pay for college, living expenses, a cheaper car. At least that was the plan, until the accident. Now we'll probably all be in jail so it won't matter."
All this time I thought Briggs was just some rich asshole who was obsessed with his precious car. He was always parking it in two spots so nobody would ding it, and he kept it spotless, both inside and out. But it turns out he didn't even care about the car. He was doing all that to keep up the value, so he could make more when he sold it.
