Page 5 of Be Mine, Cruel Valentines

The door closed behind them. I was left on the bathroom floor covered in toilet water and piss. And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I wanted them to return. Even if it meant they just stood around laughing at me.

I dragged myself off the floor and tried to wash my face with the soap in the bathroom. It wasn’t enough. I swallowed back the puke that threatened to come up and left.

Something was wrong with me. The longer I stood there, the worse it would become.

May in Arizona meant the sun was blazing, but the heat was still bearable. The sun beat down on me, drying my hair and clothes and making the stench of urine cling to me. The back of my throat burned, and I stopped in my tracks to dry heave.

My stomach was empty. Nothing was coming up but saliva as I groaned. “Swirly or dumpster?” I mocked. I should have known they’d make it worse no matter what I chose.

I picked myself up and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.I just want to go home and shower.At least the voice stopped talking. It was blissful silence in my head, and I was certain it was a lapse of sanity.

The house came into view. A three-bedroom with three cacti in the front. The mint green paint was darker in some areas from dirt. The screen door was covered in layers of dust so thick it would take a power washer to get it clean.

I made my way around the side and slipped into the back door. I had planned to go straight to the bathroom and maybe pour some bleach over my head. All plans were tossed out the moment my uncle’s voice cracked through the air.

“What the fuck is that smell!” Uncle was up and walking over to me.

Mom sat at the island sipping a glass of wine, no doubt her fifth or sixth one of the day. By the number of bottles on the kitchen table, I was leaning toward six. He neared me, and I attempted to take a step back. His thin lips dipped in a scowl. I knew no amount of distance would erase the fact I was covered in piss and toilet water. Just thinking about it made me sick.

“Seventeen and still getting picked on like you’re six.”

Uncle went off in rapid-fire Italian that I quickly tuned out. I was wet and smelled. I needed a shower. I didn’t get two steps before a fist collided with my stomach, and I bent over in pain.

No warmth followed, just pain. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and coughed as I pressed my forehead against the floor.

“He’s weak,” uncle shouted. He stood over me, glaring at my mother. “He’s coming back with me.”

“Fine, take him. He does nothing around here anyway.”

I knew she hadn’t wanted me. Hearing my mother give me up had an ache building in the middle of my chest.

They’d never give you up.

That voice was back, pestering me while I was down. I knew it was fucked up, but the voice was right. Throughout the eight months the guys bullied me, they hadn’t backed down once. Not even after I became sick. They were always there, always looking for me.

You should make them yours.

The thought struck me in the middle of my chest, and I rubbed at it. Bad idea, a really bad one. Still, what would it be like?

All three?

Why settle for one?

Chapter1

FOXYN

Six years later

My elbow twinged, and the ache built up my forearm. I dropped low just as Jesse swung. He smirked as if he’d caught me off guard. Stupid move. I stepped forward, feigning with a left hook, only to catch him with my right. Jesse hit the mat hard, his mouthpiece flying out of his mouth and skipping on the ground.

“Adams!” Coach groaned as he made his way over to the sparring ring. “What don’t you understand about sparring?”

“He got in the ring with me. He knew better.” I hopped over the rope, not looking back as some of the medics the school provided went over to assist Jesse. He’d be fine. An ibuprofen and some good sex, he’d be as good as new. I’d hit Theon twice as hard, and he’d gotten up and gone to football practice that same night.

“Still, you can’t keep knocking out every single sparring partner. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Coach stepped in front of me, halting my retreat to the locker rooms.

His shiny bald head gleamed in the bright overhead lights.How in the hell does he get it so shiny?Bet he spit-shined it every morning.

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