Текст книги "Bang"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

AFTER CARL’S ATTACK, Pike doesn’t come into my room for a while. All I want to do is die, just put myself out of this misery. I don’t even know how to understand what just happened down there. It all came so fast, and I’ve never experienced that much pain in my life. The pain in my back seemed to disappear when he started raping the one part of my body I never expected.

And now, I lay on my stomach with my face buried into my pillow as I try to muffle my sobs. My top is still off because of the stinging of my back. I’m too scared to look at it to see what he’s done to me.

“Oh my God,” I faintly hear through my cries, and when I lift my head, I see Pike looking down at me. He’s horrified, but I don’t ask why because I’m so humiliated.

He kneels beside my bed with a painful groan and lays his hand on my arm, stroking it with his trembling thumb. The side of his face is swollen and badly bruised.

“Tell me what I can do.” His voice is worried and his eyes are nothing but a display of his pity.

I can’t even think about speaking as my tears soak into my pillow.

He takes my hand, folds his fingers through mine, and holds it tightly, and the touch alone makes me cry harder.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says with his eyes welled with tears.

My hand is clenched around his and I don’t let go for a long time. Eventually, Pike kisses my knuckles, and moves to stand.

“I’ll be right back,” he says and then goes into the bathroom. When he returns, he’s holding a wet towel. “I don’t want to hurt you, but your back is covered in dried blood. Just lay still, okay?”

I nod as he gently lays the warm, wet towel on my back. My muscles cinch up, and I whimper as my flesh stings. He presses his hand down on the towel, and I cry out, “Oww.”

“I’m sorry.”

“W-what does it look like?” I ask, but also scared to know.

“You have a couple nasty gashes and a lot of welts.”

“It hurts.”

He sighs and holds my hand as he carefully starts cleaning the blood off my back.

“One day, I promise you, that fucker is gonna pay for this,” he grits out and all I can do is nod my head as I start thinking about what it would feel like to kill him.

How sick am I? A twelve-year-old girl fantasizing about killing someone.

What’s happening to me?

A FEW WEEKS have passed and school has started back up. Carl hasn’t touched me since that day, but it was only three days later when I was back in the basement, forced into giving Pike a blowjob. Afterwards, I was tied up in the closet and left there for another two days.

Pike and I now sit out on the curb in front of the house. Bobbi is inside watching TV and Carl is still at work. Summer is coming to an end and the smell of autumn is in the air. You know that smell, the smell of death. I don’t know why, but I love it. Leaves falling to their grave on the chilled, damp streets, eventually to be covered in ice and snow when winter hits.

I listen to Pike as he rambles on about some girl who’s an upper classman at his school that keeps following him around. It doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always thought Pike was cute, and now that he’s almost sixteen, he’s even cuter, not that I have a crush on him or anything; it’s just a fact. But nobody knows how pathetic the two of us are. Sometimes I get curious as to how someone would react if they knew. I mean, could you imagine that girl asking Pike to tell her something about himself, and his response was, I’m almost sixteen, and, oh yeah, I have sex with my twelve-year-old sister. Yeah, people would definitely think we’re sick.

“Isn’t that your caseworker’s car?” Pike questions, and when I turn to look down the street, sure enough, it’s Lucia’s car.

“What’s she doing here?” I can’t stand my caseworker. She only stops by to check in on me a few times a year, so the fact that she was just here a month ago makes me a little anxious.

She pulls her car along the curb as Pike and I stand.

“What are you two doing out here?” she asks, and Pike tells her in a shit-mocking tone, “Oh, you know, just enjoying the lush scenery of this picture-perfect neighborhood that you thought would provide a nice backdrop for a wholesome upbringing.”

Lucia sends Pike a glare before saying, “You mind giving Elizabeth and I a moment to speak?”

“I’ll be in my room,” he tells me as he heads inside the house, leaving Lucia and me standing on the front lawn.

“Why don’t we have a seat?” she suggests, and we walk over to the front porch steps.

“What are you doing here?”

“I got some news that I needed to come talk to you about.”

“Am I being moved?” I ask, nervous of her response because I can’t live without Pike. The thought alone pricks my eyes with tears.

“No. It’s about your dad,” she says.

Pulling on that one tiny piece of hope in my heart that I’ve been able to hang on to, I ask, “Is he getting out early? Will I be able to see him?”

She shakes her head, and when I see her face drop, she takes that hope right along with it, saying, “I’m sorry. Your father’s dead.”

And that’s the moment when you realize that hopes and dreams are as fucked up as the fairytales.

I drop my head and watch my tears drop like heavy weights to the dirty concrete below my feet. They spread and seep into the porous ground where I’m sure they’ll find their home in hell. But they won’t be alone for long because my heart feels unbearably heavy too, like it could drop right out of me at any moment.

I wanna scream. I wanna kick and hit something. I wanna stomp my feet like a toddler and throw the most soul-ripping tantrum a girl my age could, yelling at the world and to anyone who’ll listen how I hate all of them. I want to scream so hard that blood comes out. I wanna do it all, but I don’t. It’s a war inside me, but I hide it well. What’s the point of exposing it? It’s not like it’s going to make a difference. No one is coming to rescue me. So instead, I sit on these steps and quietly cry.

I have a million questions swarming, finally asking, “How?”

“It seems there was a fight that broke out with some of the inmates and your father was stabbed. The place went on lockdown and by the time the guards were able to get to him, it was too late.”

“Why? I mean, I-I . . .” I can barely speak as the sobs start breaking through my façade, causing my body to wrack in heaving tremors. “Are you sure it was him? I mean, what if they made a mistake?”

“There’s no mistake, Elizabeth,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“But I don’t have any other family. I mean, w-what happens n-now?”

“Nothing changes.”

Glaring over at her, I say, “Everything changes.” I turn my head back down and begin crying, covering my eyes with my hands. The instinct to run is fierce, but I have nowhere to go, and that pisses me off. I don’t wanna be stuck here. I don’t want this life. All I want is my dad. So with that, I stand and spit my words at my worthless caseworker, “I fucking hate you! I hate everything about you! You don’t give a shit about me or my dad! You’re just a stupid bitch!” I go inside the house, slamming the door as hard as I can behind me and run upstairs. But I don’t go to my room; I go to Pike’s. I’m loud, bawling like a baby when I walk in. He immediately pops off the bed and is in front of me in a second, asking, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Falling into his chest, he bands his arms tightly around me while I release the most wretched sobs of my life. I fist his shirt in my hands so tightly it feels as if I could break my own fingers, but I like the pain. I need the pain. I need something—anything—to distract me from the most unbearable pain of all.

It can’t be real.

He can’t really be dead.

He just can’t be.

“Elizabeth,” Pike says, and I feel like I’m gonna throw up the emptiness that fills me because if he’s gone, I’m gone.

I don’t even realize we’ve walked across the room until I open my eyes and we’re lying down.

“What did she say?” he asks.

“I hate her, Pike. I hate everyone,” I choke out around the pain.

“Tell me.”

My words hurt as they come out, “M-my dad. She said he’s dead, Pike. That someone stabbed him, and he died.” Saying the words cuts deep, and the hold that Pike has on me suddenly becomes a thousand times stronger.

“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath before I cry, “It isn’t true. It can’t be.”

Hearing it from Lucia, I felt numb, but now, with Pike—my safety—the emotions overpower me. I’m drowning and I can’t breathe. All I can do is scream and cry, and so I do, just like a helpless baby, never letting go of my grip on Pike’s shirt. It’s as if his shirt is my lifeline, and if I let go, I’ll free-fall into nothingness.

And now I lie here, crumbling into a million pieces. I’ll never be whole again. I’ll never forgive the world for this.

I want my dad.

Now.

I want the rough whiskers of his face scratching me when he gives kisses, I want his smooth voice singing to me again, I want his touch, his hold, his love, his healing, his smile, stories, tickles, laughs, eyes, hands, smell—everything. I wanna be saved.

I want my prince.

Pike tucks me under his chin, kissing the top of my head every now and then. Eventually the noise in the room begins to fade as I tire and quiet down. My body feels so heavy and my head pounds, making it hurt to open my eyes. Pike continuously runs his hand up and down my back in an attempt to soothe me, but nothing can dull this agony.

Into the quiet room, I whisper, “Do you ever think about dying?”

“Sometimes,” he responds softly.

“Does it scare you?”

“No. You?”

“Not anymore,” I tell him, and then ask, “Do you think my dad was scared?”

“No,” he says without any hesitation.

“How do you know?”

“Because, if he’s dead, then he’ll always get to be with you. Knowing he’d finally get to see you again, I doubt he was scared.”

His words bring on a slew of silent tears that soak into his shirt. “It’s not fair, Pike.”

“No, it’s not. You deserve everything that’s good in this world, and I swear to you that I will fight to give you that. One day, when we’re out of this mess, I’ll find a way to make you happy.”

“I don’t believe in happiness,” I weep. “I don’t believe in anything anymore.”

He brushes my hair back and scoots down to look me in the eyes. “Believe in me.”

His dark eyes are stern, and I realize, that in this moment, he’s my only chance at survival. Pike has always done his best to protect me; he’s always cared about me. From the first day I got here, he’s been my brother. It was instant. And now, I have no other choice but to believe in everything he says because he’s my only constant.

When he leans in and kisses my forehead, I don’t even think when I nuzzle in and kiss his neck. He keeps his lips on my forehead and doesn’t move, but his hands find my cheeks as he holds me close. Before I know it, his lips are on mine in an unmoving kiss. I grip on to his wrists, and in a blur, in an unnoticeable moment, our mouths move together.

I’ve never kissed Pike before—never even thought about it—but somehow, this feels right. He’s the first boy I’ve ever kissed. We’ve been having sex for two years, so you wouldn’t think kissing him would feel like anything at all, but it does. Out of nowhere, he’s taken my mind away from everything bad as I focus on only him. It’s like I can finally breathe.

Rolling on top of me, he reaches back to take his shirt off, and I sit up to remove mine as well. When we’re stripped down to nothing, he pulls the sheets over us, and I’m tucked in warm with him. Everything about this feels different than the hundreds of times we’ve done this before. It’s always cold and dirty, with Carl watching us the whole time.

“Don’t go there,” Pike says, knocking me from my thoughts.

“Where?”

“Don’t think about him. He has nothing to do with this. We’re not on that mattress down there; we’re here in my bed. You’re safe.”

“Just us?” I ask.

“Just us,” he says as he pushes himself inside of me, and for the first time, I find the magic that I gave up believing in. It turns out Pike had it all along, because in this moment, I don’t feel any more pain or hurt.

It’s just us, and I’m safe.

MY TEETH CHATTER as I walk home from school. I wound up getting in trouble for fighting a girl who was making fun of me today, landing me in afterschool suspension for the next two weeks. Pike has been working more and more, so we haven’t been walking home together much lately, and he refuses to let me tag along with him. He says he doesn’t want me getting mixed up with his friends, but he always makes sure he’s home before Carl gets there so I won’t be alone with him.

Life hasn’t changed that much. I’m fourteen—a little taller, filling out more, my hair has grown a few more waves than it used to have, and I have more scars on my wrists. It looks like I’ve been trying to slit them, but six years of being belted up in a tiny closet will do that to you. I hide them well though, wearing long sleeves that fall past my wrists that I often tug further down.

Since learning about my dad’s death two years ago, I’ve grown pretty numb to everything around me. I feel like a living, breathing machine most of the time. I’m able to turn myself off and on pretty easily. For the most part, I’m in off mode, frozen and void. I only allow Pike to see me on. He’s my only release, the only one I show my true self to. Since that afternoon, the afternoon I learned that I would never see my father again, Pike and I have continued to sleep together, privately, in his bed. I’ve found myself becoming selfish with him, using him to take away all the bad. It’s so hard to explain, but when I’m with him like that, I feel like I’m washed clean. Once I realized what I was doing, I was honest and told him. The guilt was overpowering me, and when I explained my feelings to him, I thought he’d be mad, but he wasn’t. He told me to take whatever I needed to take from him. I still feel the guilt though. The shame of using him so selfishly eats at me after we’re done and I grow quiet, often crying. Pike soothes me as best as he can, holding me, assuring me that it’s okay—that everything’s okay.

I’m a mess, but that’s to be expected with the harsh introduction I received to this crazy, fucked up life. I’m fourteen—too young to be this bitter and angry. For a while, when I would see a child with their parent, I’d wish for that parent to die. I wanted every kid to feel the pain I was feeling because it wasn’t fair to me.

Life’s cruel, and I’m its bitch.

I’m Carl’s bitch too. Lately he’s been fucking me, wanting Pike to watch. He made me promise to never look at Carl, so I always keep my eyes locked on Pike’s no matter who I’m fucking that day.

My first orgasm came about a year ago. Carl was jerking off in the corner while Pike and I were having sex. It had never happened before, so when what was always such a sickening act turned into pleasure, it scared the crap out of me. I couldn’t face Pike afterwards; I was too ashamed. When I finally unlocked my bathroom door a few hours later, he came in and talked to me about it. It was humiliating, having my brother explain to me what had happened. He told me it was a natural part of sex, but I didn’t like it. It made me feel dirty and embarrassed. And now, knowing it could happen again, I fight hard to prevent it. Pike knows this, so when we’re alone in his bed, he tries to get off fast so that he doesn’t accidentally make me feel it again. It’s weird, because I like having sex with Pike when we’re alone, but at the same time, it scares me because I don’t want it to feel good—it shouldn’t feel good. But I want to be with him because it’s with him that I don’t feel the misery and the ugliness. He takes it all away, and even if it’s only for a moment, I feel free.

When I turn the corner, I see Pike sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette. “Pike!” I shout from down the street, and he looks over to me then stands up.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, pissed.

“I got in a fight and now I have afterschool suspension.”

Taking a drag from his cigarette, the smoke drifts lazily out of his mouth when he gets all big-brother-protective, saying, “Tell me what happened.”

“That girl I’ve been telling you about, you know, the one who’s been making my life hell? She just kept running her mouth in the cafeteria, calling me names. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I lost it.”

“What’d you do?”

“She was sitting at the end of the same table as me, so I chucked my apple at her and it hit her in the head. Before I knew it, we were out of our seats and I had her on the ground.”

“No shit?” he says with a mild, pleased grin on his face. “Well, I don’t see a mark on you, so I take it you won?”

“It wasn’t a competition, Pike,” I say, still feeling like the loser the kids at school tell me I am.

“What’s wrong? You kicked her ass; you should feel good.”

“You’re such a boy,” I sigh, dropping my head. When he drapes his arm around my shoulder, I add, “I hate it there. I have no friends.”

“They’re bitches, Elizabeth. Young, stupid bitches.”

“I’m young and stupid.”

Pike tosses his cigarette before we walk inside the house. “Young, yes. Stupid, no,” he says as we go upstairs. “You only have a couple months left there. Next year, you’ll be with me again.”

“Right,” I scoff. “You’ll be a senior and I’ll be the freshman freak.”

He plops down on the bed, folding his arms behind his head, responding, “Nothing about you says freak. Trust me. Those girls are just jealous because you’re prettier than them.”

His words heat my neck, but at the same time fill something inside of me. The last time anyone ever said I was pretty, I was five, and it came from my dad. He would always tell me I was beautiful and pretty, saying I had the most gorgeous red hair. Looks are shallow, I know that, but I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until just now.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, noticing the sadness behind my eyes. “Come here.”

I walk over and sit down next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he repeats.

“I feel ugly inside,” I admit.

“Don’t,” he states as he sits up next to me. “There’s nothing about you that’s ugly.”

“Really, Pike?” I question with ridicule.

Annoyed with my tone, he defends, “Nobody knows us. Nobody knows. It’s you allowing what other people might think or say that makes you feel that way.”

“It’s what I feel, Pike,” I argue in a pitched voice.

“You have the power to change that. How you feel is how you allow yourself to feel.”

“So, it’s my fault? My fault that I feel this way?”

“Feel sad. Feel angry. Hate whoever you want. Blame whoever you want, but don’t, for one second, think that you’re any less than what you are. You’re not ugly or dirty or whatever else you’re thinking.” His tone is hard and stern when he says this, but in an instant, he softens it, saying, “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. You still believe in me?”

I nod.

“Good. Because it won’t always be like this.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Tell me, Pike. What’s it gonna be like? Tell me the fairytale,” I voice with a slip of mockery.

“I’m gonna make you believe in the fairytale again.”

I laugh softly at his determined words, and he smiles at me.

We spend the next hour goofing around and getting our homework done. Carl got home a while ago, but he hasn’t said a word to us, which is a relief, and now the smells of food cooking fill the house. Bobbi hardly ever cooks. More like never.

“You think we’re gonna get any of that?” Pike asks, referring to whatever it is she’s making in the kitchen.

“Doubtful,” I respond with a roll of my eyes, and we both smile at each other.

“Pike,” Bobbi calls from downstairs after the doorbell rings.

“Be back,” he says.

I stay on his bed, and when I hear the front door shut, I turn to look out the window to see Pike and his caseworker on the front lawn talking. Whatever is being said, Pike is visibly pissed, raking a strong hand through his hair. His muffled yells are distorted and I can’t make out what he’s saying. When he turns his head and looks up to the window, my stomach drops hard. The expression on his face tells me I should be worried, and I am. I jump off the bed when he walks back to the house. He runs up the stairs, meeting me at the door. With his hands on my shoulders, he pushes me back into the room and closes the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” I question as the panic rises.

Looking down, he shakes his head, and then pulls me tightly in his arms, hugging me.

And now I’m freaking out.

“Pike, what’s happening? You’re scaring me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and I know it’s bad. He only says that when something bad is about to happen. He doesn’t let go of me as we stand there, holding on to each other.

I didn’t think life could get any worse for me, but it could—and it would. I’ve always battled with the idea of hope. Hope had always failed me, but for some reason, I kept holding on to a tiny piece of it. I was scared to know what the world would be like if I didn’t have it. But Pike’s next words to me would stab me from the inside—white horror—filling me with the blood of life’s harsh reality. A reality that would spit its gritty words in my face, telling me, “Hope is for the ignorant, little girl. Give it up.”

Taking his arms from around me, he cups my cheeks, takes out the knife, and stabs me to the core with his words.

“You’re gonna be okay, Elizabeth.”

My whole body shakes, my voice trembling in confusion, “What?”

Pressing his forehead against mine, I hold his wrists in a death grip as he says, “I’m leaving.”

He just siphoned all the air from my lungs with those two words, and I turn cold, shaking my head vigorously against his.

“I have to go. They’re placing me in a group home.”

“No.”

“I’m so sorry,” he painfully breathes.

“No.” My word, a wretched plea.

Pike presses a hard kiss to my forehead, and I cry out, “No!” as his back shakes against my hands. “No!”

“It’s done. Apparently Carl made a call. He wants me out.”

“Don’t go. You can’t go.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he says, and when he pulls back, I see the fear in his eyes, and I know it’s all for me. We both know what’ll happen without him here. I’ll be all alone for Carl to do with as he pleases.

“You can’t leave me here. You can’t leave me with him,” I desperately plea.

He takes a step back, fisting his hair, gritting under his breath, “Fuuuuck.” He paces as I stand in shock, crying. Eventually, he turns back to me and affirms, “Fourteen is still gonna be your year. Your dad won’t be coming back for you, but I will.”

“Don’t do that,” I tell him. “Don’t you dare give me hope.”

His eyes are burning, dark coals when he says, “I swear to you. I’ll give you that fairytale. Let me age out. I’ll come back for you.”

“A year? Pike, don’t leave me here with him for a year!”

“We can’t run away now. Think about it—two of us go missing—it’s too risky. But just one—you—we could get away. Less than one year, you’ll be free from here. One year alone and out at fourteen; you can do it,” he tells me while I cry in fear of what life is going to be like without him. “You’re so fucking strong,” he asserts. “I will come back for you.”

I sling my arms around his neck, and continue to beg him not to leave me. I’m terrified I’ll never see him again, my only friend, my only family—my brother. Who’s going to protect me?

“I have to pack,” he whispers.

“Now?”

“My caseworker is downstairs waiting on me.”

“Oh my God,” I mutter to myself. I can’t believe this is happening. My heart feels like a wrecking ball inside my chest, pounding away at my pathetic life. I wander over to Pike’s bed and sit down, gripping the edge of the mattress with my hands, and watch as he starts shoving clothes into his duffle bag. The tears simply fall from my eyes with no effort. I lost my dad with the faith that I would see him again, and now I’m losing Pike with the knowledge that life doesn’t guarantee you anything, no matter how badly you want it.

Once his bag is zipped, he kneels down in front of me with his hands on my knees. He’s a blurry vision, muddled through the tears that separate us. “You’re all I have,” he says. “You’re it. I won’t lose you, and you won’t lose me.”

“Please.” It’s a vague plea—a plea for anything, really.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” He takes his thumbs and wipes the tears from my eyes. “Really listen to me.”

I nod.

“I’m with you,” he assures. “When you’re in that closet, I’m with you. When you’re in that basement, I’m with you. I’m always with you, okay? But I need you to make me a promise. I need you to promise me that you’ll turn yourself off. Just shut it off. He can’t hurt you if you don’t feel. The people who get hurt in life are the ones who allow themselves to feel.”

My tears grow heavy, plunking to their death in a free-fall, landing on my knees. Looking down at him, without much thought, I kiss him. We’ve never kissed outside of his bed when we’re having sex, but I kiss him now because I don’t know what else to do. He holds me tight, kissing me back as I cry against his lips, refusing to let go of him.

When our mouths part, he looks into my eyes, saying, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He stands, grabs his bag, and promises, “I’ll come back for you.”

And just like that, as if I ever had a choice in the matter, my brother, my only lifeline, walks away from me.

And I’m all alone.