Page 63 of Blissful Hook

"River didn't used to be the way he is now. There was a time when he would shove me behind him and take a hit that was meant for me. I remember a twelve-year-old River cooking soggy pasta and making me watered-down hot chocolate before bed on the nights that Mom never came home. Allen would be passed out on the couch after finishing a two-six of vodka most nights, so at least we had that going for us. River would tell me to wait for him in the small room we shared before making sure the kitchen was clean and meeting me there. Our bunk bed took up most of the room and was barely holding on. It got to the point where every time he had to go to the top bunk, he would have to move from my bed to the dresser before hopping up onto his mattress because the ladder was broken. We knew better than to ask anyone to fix it, so we never did. It was easier during the nights when he was with me. I knew that I wasn't alone. But when he turned sixteen, it was like Allen flipped the lights off in his head."

Again, I don't say anything when Tyler stops and sucks in uneven, scattered breaths that ring the alarm bells in the back of my head. I bite my tongue until the taste of metal attacks my taste buds and squeeze his hand harder, nearly passing out with relief when he squeezes back.

"I couldn't tell you the day or even the month that I lost my brother. But I know it was Allen. It was the little clear baggy of coke Allen pulled from his pocket after we got home from school and the used, traded-off pussy that I found River fucking in our living room while Allen and four of his pin-pupiled buddies sat back and watched. It was like a bomb went off, mutilating every single human emotion and feeling that lived inside of River, turning him into a puppet that only Allen held the strings to," Tyler's voice cracks and when the first tear falls from behind his closed eyelids, I let his pain slaughter me from the inside out.

"Ty," I whisper, broken. I’m ready to throw myself into his lap and wrap myself around him like a protective coating but he sucks the air from my lungs, startling me. He turns towards me and pushes his face into my neck, letting his sobs become muffled in my skin. His chest shakes as his cries intensify, building to a peak that has his arms squeezing around me so tight that my chest has trouble expanding. I know that I should probably tell him he's holding me too tightly, but I can't find it in me to do so. Who knows how long it's been since he's had someone to hold, someone to open up to and confide in. If he ever has at all. I'm not about to shatter that. As long as I can manage to breathe, I won't complain. I know that he would do the same for me without so much as blinking from the discomfort. So, I press my palms to his shaking chest and rest them there. I allow my fingertips to rub calming circles against him and lean my cheek against his fluffed hair.

Tyler doesn't deserve this. Hell, nobody does. My insides burn with a fit of stormy hatred towards the people who call themselves his family. I can't imagine the agony that has to be living inside him, following him through his entire life. All of his success, his happiness, it will all be overshadowed by his history. His past taints his present and future, but I will do everything that I can to help him get past this. To help him heal.

What feels like a few minutes later, his cries start to slow. I feel him tense under my fingertips for a brief second before he relaxes again and pulls his head out of my neck. He keeps it down though, out of view.

"Now the only person left in that fucking house is our mom. She's the only one left that Allen beats on, using her as a personal fucking punching bag. And the worst part is that most of the time she's too drunk to realize that anything has even happened. She won't let me take her away from him—someplace safe. She's too fucked up to realize that he doesn't care about her any more than he cares about a prostitute on the fucking street corner. When I got her call and went to find her. . ." he trails off, running a thumb along his jaw as it tightens, "she refused to let me bring her to the damn Hospital—too afraid of what would happen if the cops were called. I don't know what I would have done if Brooks hadn't come when I called. He's taken care of enough wounds in his lifetime that patching her up was just a typical night for him."

He uses the back of his hand to roughly swipe across his face before looking up. A broken gaze stares back at me with an intensity that makes me gulp.

"Where is she now? Is she okay?"

"She's at Braden's. Brooks can take care of her better than I can right now. I don't even know what to say to her. She didn't look like herself, Gray. She looks like a zombie." His eyes are squeezed shut like he's trapped in a cage of emotional disarray.

She's at Brook’s? Better safe than sorry, I suppose. The only danger she's in there is having to listen to Braden's sex jokes all the time. The Lowry’s will take good care of her. I'm just glad to know that there are other people in Tyler's life that he trusts enough to help him. He's going to need as much support as possible to get through this.

"Hey." I reach up and grab his jaw, holding him in place as our eyes stay locked, unwavering. "You saved her. She's okay now. She's safe. We can help her." I know my words probably don't do much. Not with everything that he must be feeling. But Tyler isn't the type of guy to let these things go, especially not with everything Allen has done to him and his family. And I think that's what terrifies me the most. I don't know what he's going to do. I can only hope he won't try to do it alone.

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