Page 48 of Roses and Skulls

Elijah takes my silence as acceptance of his request. He shoves his sucker in my mouth and once again, I find him unbuttoning my pants. Only this time, he drops to his knees in front of me as he slides them down my thighs.

His fingertips dig into the back of my legs, his thumbs brushing over the raised lines that cover them.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight as humiliation floods my system. My cheeks heat to crimson as he takes in the extent of my pain.

His breath is hot over my skin as he leans in close. “Never again,” he whispers, pressing his mouth against the angriest of all my scars. His tongue sneaks out and he runs his piercing along its length.

An unbidden whimper escapes my lips and then it happens. The moment I’ve been waiting for the last three years.

The sky falls.

I stand frozen as Elijah quickly rises in front of me, trying to shield me from the shocked eyes of my family.

In a split second, my dad’s fist is connecting with Elijah’s cheek. His head whips towards me, blood splattering over my face. He stumbles back, reaching out for the wall to remain upright and to avoid knocking me over. And then my father’s eyes drop to my legs, and he sees my exposed secret.

We are both unable to move, suspended in time until my mom’s pained cry breaks the barrier. I quickly reach down and haul my jeans up over my ass. I rush past my parents and my Uncle Dan. He tries to snatch my wrist, but I dart away from his grasp.

I grab my mom’s keys off the hook by the door and push my way to the outside world. My dad roars and I hear his booted footsteps following quickly behind me. Rachel and Raffe are just pulling into the parking lot and Raffe joins the pursuit, not knowing what has happened but he would follow my dad into the bowels of hell without question.

Just then, a murder of crows blots out the sun above me. I skid to a stop and turn, facing my family. They halt too, staring as the birds lower their flight. Some land on the sun beaten pavement between us. My little crow chooses to perch herself on my shoulder, her black eyes reflecting the look of disappointment on their faces.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I say, taking a step back.

My dad attempts to follow but the birds flap their wings, keeping him where he’s at.

I open the door to mom’s rat rod, the little crow hopping off my shoulder as I duck inside. She hovers outside my window until I fire up the engine and take off, skidding sideways as I turn out onto the road.

Grandpa’s secret driving lessons are finally paying off. I wonder how long the birds will hold them off. Not long I’m assuming.

I need to get away. Far away.

Somewhere that I can go and let all this new pain out.

The drive takes me higher and higher. When I was a little girl, I felt like we were driving into the clouds when we came up here. The naivety of a child. But wouldn’t that be nice? If mountain roads took you to Heaven’s door. Maybe then I would hear him.

The sun is high when I get to the cabin. I kill the engine, my hands shaking as I unlock the door and rush to the bathroom. I don’t even take time to shut the front door behind me.

I kick off my shoe and pull the blade out, falling to the floor. My thumb runs along the edge as I stare at my wrist. They all hate me. They’re going to hate me even more when they find out this isn’t the only secret I’ve been keeping from them.

I’ve been so angry. So angry.

“It’s over grandpa. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve made such a mess of things. There’s no coming back from this. They know. They have their proof now. Proof that I’m just as weak as they suspected.”

I drop my head, tears and snot pouring out of my mouth and nose. With the blade pressed to the center of my wrist, I tip my head back and close my eyes. Just push and pull.

The warm summer breeze wafts in from outside, bringing with it whispers from Heaven.

My eyes fly open and my heart stops. I drop the blade and tip my head, straining my ears, positive that I’m hallucinating but praying I’m not.

The wind encourages the old souls to speak again.

I jump to my feet, staring into the mirror. My face is streaked with tears and snot.

“You’re the best of both of them. You just don’t see it, but you will.”His voice counteracts the words I’ve been telling myself, that I’m weak.

“And you’re not angry, you’re just sad, baby girl.”

That is what he had said to me the first summer my dad and I stayed home while my mom went to visit William in San Diego.

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