Page 20 of Wrecked
Until her.
I fall backward onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, the little jolt causing my cheek to ache. The last eight weeks have been the most alive I’ve felt in years. For once, I’m excited to wake up in the mornings, to put on that goddamn mask, and surround myself with the superficial flock that gathers in my presence.
Just to get a glimpse of her.
We don’t have classes together. We don’t even have lunch together. But when I pass her in the halls, I make sure to brush my hand across her lower back and watch as her skin flushes from the touch. She gives me her sweet, secretive smile—a smile she only gives to me—and I feel like I can take my first full breath of the day.
We’ve increased our “study sessions” to three times a week. Those additional days are essential because we spend most of our sessions with our lips attached to each other.
Not that I’m complaining.
She has a way of drowning out all of the noise. When I’m with her, everything else vanishes. My intrusive thoughts, that indescribable hollowness, it’s all gone. I want to keep this feeling, and this girl, just for me for as long as I can. I want to bottle it up and never let any of the darkness seep into what we have.
Not that I want to hide what she means to me. I would proudly show her off as mine. Because she is…she’s mine. I just don’t want to soil her with my family, with Nathaniel’s bullshit. I want to be far away from here before I tell the world that she’s mine.
I hear my phone ding in the distance. I know it’s her. I can always feel when it’s her. Whether she is near me or thinking about me, I somehow always know it. Right now, she’s asking where the hell I am. I was supposed to be at the library thirty minutes ago.
We always meet in the library after hours. The moment I walk in she hops out of her chair and jumps into my arms. It’s the best feeling in the world.
Not today, though.
Today, I would see her eyes take in the damage to my skin. I would see the brightness dim under the burden of sympathy. The lightness I feel when I am with her would become heavy, and I can’t hold up any more weight. My arms would give upunder the stress, and I would be crushed by the poisonous thoughts I try so hard to ignore.
I want to be a rock for Ellie. I don’t want her to watch me crumble. I don’t want her to distrust my ability to keep her safe, to hold her up when she needs my strength. I want her to see me as a man who is worth her love. Worth her smiles. Because those smiles give me the breath I need on my darkest days.
I can’t give her this weak and defective version of myself. This isn’t how a man is supposed to be. Broken and battered, contemplating an ending to all the pain. If my father could hear my thoughts, he’d kill me himself.
I push myself up from my bed, ignoring my phone, and walk toward my window. I look out and see Emmy swimming laps in the pool. A small smile pulls at my lips. Much like Ellie, she has a way of making the darkest days brighten just a little.
Then I notice him.
He’s standing to the side, unnoticeable to Emmy as she swims back and forth. He has a beer in his hand, which is never a good sign. His eyes track her as she swims back and forth, and I feel my stomach lurch. An unnerving feeling overwhelms me, one that I’ve never felt before. Before I can think twice, I’m walking down the stairs and out the back door toward the pool.
“Emmy!” I yell. “Come inside and get your homework done before it gets too late.” She huffs at me and rolls her eyes as she climbs the stairs out of the pool. She’s thirteen now, but I swear you’d think she was twenty. I place myself in his line of vision as she walks toward the patio door, grabbing her towel on the way. Once she’s covered, I turn to look at my father. He’s staring at me as he takes a swig of his beer.
“Last I checked, I was her father…not you,” he slurs.
“Last I checked, fathers don’tleerat their teenage daughters,” I retort, anger outweighing self-preservation. He gives me a drunken smile as he walks toward me. I don’t even have time tobrace before the beer bottle slams over my head and I fall into the patio table, the glass top breaking on impact.
My vision doubles, and a wave of nausea sweeps over me. I’m going to vomit. Or faint. Maybe both. I lift my hands to my head like it will rid me of the searing pain, but it leaves my abdomen wide open for his assault.
The first punch has me chasing air. The second has me spilling bile all over the patio deck. I fall to the ground, landing on top of the broken glass. I can feel the small slivers pierce my skin as I sink into the ground, hoping to pass out. The loss of consciousness would relieve the pain.
Please, let me faint.
Please, God…let me die.
That’s my last thought before a sheet of blackness covers my vision and I feel myself fade away.
I startle awakeat the sound of dogs barking. I feel chilled to the core, like my blood is frozen inside my veins. Goosebumps line my flesh as I begin to involuntarily shiver. I move to sit up, but the pain in my head has me nearly blacking out. I try to control my breathing, but it’s hard to take a deep breath.
Broken rib.
Something I’ve felt more than once. Surprisingly, the frivolous cuts covering my arms and legs hurt the worst. It would almost be funny if I didn’t have to pull out all the glass.
I try to sit up again, and this time I’m successful. My head spins a little, but the dizziness subsides quickly. I take in my surroundings and realize it’s dark outside. I don’t know how long I’ve been lying out here, but all the lights in the house are off.
Everyone is in bed.
