by A.R. Rivera
Part of me understands why she hates me, but another part is still unsure why it bothered her so much. All things considered; we were best friends. We shared everything.
+++
The night air was sticky. I'd walked for a long time and my feet were hurting almost as much as the ever-present ache in my chest. It was throbbing so badly I couldn't sleep. I had already drawn the lovely lines on my hip, but it did nothing. I was afraid I might go deeper and threw the razor blade I took from the pencil sharpener out the window, into the dirt before climbing out.
I had to get up and move. I was too restless and there was only one thing that could relax me, but I had no idea what that thing was so I just started walking.
I came upon Troy's house without meaning to. All the lights were off; none burned from inside or over the porch. Both his parents' cars were on the driveway. I imagined his sleeping house, how peaceful and cool it must feel inside.
I thought of climbing over the back gate on the side of the driveway like I used to. I almost did. I was at the top of the driveway, dragging a knee up on the hose mount to hop the fence when I heard a distinct clinking noise shoot from the other side.
I cautiously looked between the slats of the wooden gate and saw two electric eyes darting back, accompanied by a low growl. The mean Rottweiler they usually kept inside was out, roaming the yard. I turned on my heel and booked down the driveway. The dog barked as I hustled over the empty road onto the sidewalk across the street and up, until Troy's house was out of sight.
I wondered if Troy did it on purpose; if he had shoved Lucille outside to keep me away from his window. The possibility was gnawing at me, making me want to punch Troy's face until it was as bloody as I felt. The anger burned so hot, I was sure the flames would consume me from the inside out if I didn't find something to distract me.
I kept on walking, sticking to the right-hand side of the road, following the sidewalk out of the neighborhood until I came to another development. One with slightly older homes in the standard and slightly varied lay-outs, though they all essentially looked the same. I recognized the track homes right away and moved along the next four blocks to make a left into the cul-de-sac.
The white passenger van was on the driveway. There were no lights on inside that I could see, but they didn't have a dog. I walked over the gravelly yard, passing the cactus with a broken wagon wheel at the base. Without pause, I passed through the unlocked side gate and into the back yard.
When I got to his window, it was wide open as if he had been waiting for me. The bent frame of the screen easily popped out. I poked my head inside.
His bed was up against the outer wall, just a few feet from the window. Set right in front of me was the nightstand. I licked my lips and climbed inside.
The first time it happened, I hadn't planned it either. As a matter of fact, I never planned anything. I pushed-I pushed knives into my arms, I pushed teacher's buttons, I pushed my luck in hundreds of ways-but I never planned to. Jake was no different.
Perched on top of the bedside table, I watched him breathe. In. Out. Slow. Shallow.
The air inside Jakes bedroom was muggy-just like outside. I hopped down from the small table, hearing the scrape of my shoes over the wooden top. There must have been gravel stuck in the treads.
Jake shot straight up, looking around the dark room with wide eyes. They landed on me. He let out loud breath. "What are you doing here?"
"Couldn't sleep," I explained, kicking my boots from my aching feet.
"So you decided to walk two and a half miles-" he stretched back and snatched the alarm clock from a shelf on his headboard-"at four-thirty-seven in the morning? And climb through my bedroom window?" He set the clock radio back behind him as REO Speedwagon began floating into the dark air. I knew the radio was on that station because that was where Angel liked it. My stomach should have turned a little, but it didn't. I was going to take it on the run just like the song said.
I shrugged. "Basically."
A chuckle growled from low in Jakes throat. "Oh, you got it bad."
I did not return his smile. I didn't say anything. I never wanted his affection, or to take anything away from Angel. That wasn't even a possibility. I did not want him for myself. I didn't want him for anything. I just needed to feel like a whole person, if only for a few minutes and even if it cost me more than I was willing to pay.
I wanted-no, I needed-a distraction and Jakes' touch had always felt like a balm to Angel. I wanted it to heal me, too.
I couldn't make out Jakes' form, but I heard him pull back the sheet he was covered with. I unzipped my pants, shoved out of them, and my tank top quickly followed.
"I'll give you a ride home." Jakes' husky voice carried from his corner in the dark.
"Don't you want me here?" I wished I'd thought to consider the possibility that he'd reject me, or at the very least, asked the question while I was still wearing clothes.
A small lamp flicked on. It was sitting on his headboard, pointing straight down, but still giving plenty of light to Jake's studious gaze. His eyes were glued to my body.
"Dumb question." He shifted in a way that showed me he had no intention of making me leave.
I didn't let myself feel the relief of acceptance; I simply took away the space between us, shoving Jake onto his back. I saw his lips part and leaned away. Jake gasped when I forced his boxers down with my feet. He sat up so we were nose to nose-pressing his lips to my shoulders and neck. He tried to cup my face, but I turned my head.
Before he could change the encounter into something resembling intimacy, I grabbed his long hands and shoved them down to my waist so he could feel the lines, so he'd know what I needed and why. He'd seen the marks enough times and he said I could count on him.
Don't cut yourself. Come to me, first. I'll do what I can."
"One of those nights, huh?" He whispered in my ear, and then took my soft flesh into his rough hands.
The second we connected, it was there-a little silence, almost a glimmer of peace. I nearly howled, so pleased to feel something more than the angry nothing.
It was helping, but I couldn't clear my mind, not with his eyes right there watching me. I tossed his hands away and leapt to the middle of the bed, facing the wall. Jake followed, wordlessly gripping my shoulders. I relaxed again, feeling him tense up, aiming to deliver the help he promised.
And then-the glorious ache. I started to cry out, but Jake set his hand over my mouth. "Shh!"
Oh yeah, the doorknob still wasn't fixed.
His fingers knotted into my hair and I groaned, begging for more. More pleasure, more pain, more everything. Anything to make me stop thinking.
"Any more and you'll go through the wall." Jake whispered into the skin of my shoulder, but kept pulling my hair because he knew I needed it.
His moves were concentrated and wonderful, shooting my aching void and the nagging beast inside it to the moon.
+++
I lay beneath him panting.
Feeling his hot breath against my back, his voice was husky. "You're crazy." His lips skimmed my shoulder before he rolled over to grab a cigarette.
"I've got school." I scrambled out of bed, grabbing at my discarded clothes.
Jakes face soured. He flicked the lighter on and drew in a puff of smoke. "I'm driving you home."
"No." I turned around in search of my shoes.
"Hey," He touched my arm and I froze.
His fingertip felt like a brick flying through a plate-glass window. I was broken and desolate all over again.
Another mistake.
Another fucking colossal mistake to add to the flurry of shit that followed me wherever I went.
Another reason for Angel to hate me.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." The word came out like a bullet, with force. "I just want to walk."
I carried my shoes with me outside, scrambling to put as much distance between me and that hou
se as I could before I broke.
No amount of speed could carry me fast enough to outrun the emptiness that opened again, more ferocious than before.
The tears were coming.
Still, I tried to outrun them.
