by R Holmes
“Once upon a time, a sorry would’ve been good enough, Rhys. But now? I’m done letting people make empty promises and false hopes. I’m done being this pushover who deserves more than she ever gets done. I might forgive you, Rhys, because it’s the heart I have at the end of the day, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to give you the parts of me you do not deserve. The things you’ve put me through will take more than a sorry to erase. Your actions mean nothing without proving them. If you want to move forward and be in my life, then you have to earn your spot here.” My voice is strong with conviction and I’m so damn proud of myself for standing up. I deserve it.
He nods. “I know. I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so goddamn sorry and I know it doesn’t mean shit, but I swear, Valentina, if you give me a chance, I will prove to you I can be good. I can be… better.” He hesitates when I don’t respond. “Listen, this shit is too heavy. Meet me at the bell tower in an hour, okay? I wanna show you something."
He stands from the bed and I join him on the side, feeling more and more humiliated I broke down the way I just did in front of him. Until he steps closer and pulls me into a hug that surprises me. I'm still not used to a Rhys who's less… overwhelming and controlling. I don’t resist, and let his arms wrap around me for a brief moment. He’s right, this shit between us is heavy, but it needed to be said. To heal, to move on, to move forward, I have to let go of the things that have been dragging me down for too long. His arms are tight and envelop my small frame. His touch is comforting, and as odd as it is, familiar. In the past weeks, it's become habitual.
"You're stronger than you look, little lamb. It's about time you realized it."
He's right, and from this day forward, I plan to show everyone just how powerful I am.
After Rhys leaves, I take a much needed shower to feel even a little like myself again. Today’s been a dumpster fire of emotional trauma and my body feels the effects of it. It's like that feeling after you've had the flu for a week and you can't seem to pick one foot up and put it in front of the other without an ache somewhere. Although I do feel better after my shower and getting all of the pent-up tears out, I know soon it'll all have to be handled head-on, and the conversation with Victoria and my father is not one I'm looking forward to. I want to have a chance for my emotions not to be so raw and on the surface before I have to deal with this. I want a chance to think through what I feel and be confident in those feelings when I finally tell him.
Once I shower and towel-dry my hair, I put on some moisturizer and throw my hair in a wet, messy bun and forgo makeup. After today, makeup is the last thing I feel like attempting. I throw on an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that falls to my thighs.
Looking into the mirror, I stare at my reflection. Every curve, every dip in my skin. The light freckles across my nose and cheeks. Baby hairs that won't stay put for anything. Imperfect by every definition, but I'm me. I never pretended to be anything I wasn't. I've kept my head down, as much as I could, and studied. Hard. I didn't care about making friends with the bitches here. I'm kind, I'm loyal, I'm genuine. That's more than I can say for a lot of the girls here at St. Augustine. I've spent all of my high school career scared to stand up for myself because of the backlash. I've let Mara and her bitches walk all over me until there was nothing left but the dirty, black scuff marks from their designer heels. I've heard them belittle me in every way possible and never stood up, instead, I kept my distance to avoid any conflict. Starting today, I'm learning to love myself.
That goes for anyone who has anything to say about the way I look, how I dress, how much fucking bread I eat. On a whim, I walk over to the cupboard where I've stashed all of the diet pills, sweat bands, too small workout clothes that she hoped I would one day fit into, and I throw every single bit of it into the trash. It spills over and falls onto the floor, but I don't give a shit any longer. I can't ever love myself the way that I deserve if I continue to let others make me feel horrible about the person I am.
I leave my dorm room in complete disarray with discarded weight loss products everywhere, but it's almost been an hour and I don't want to be late to meet Rhys, I don't want him to think I'm standing him up again. Campus is completely quiet, and night has settled. The wind blows eerily making the atmosphere completely chilling. That's the perfect way to describe St. Augustine's architecture in vibe. It's gorgeous. Especially in the daytime when the sun hits the stained glass of the cathedrals just right. It's rich with history and stories. But, when night falls it's like a scene from a bad horror movie and you're the main character. I shiver at the thought and pick up the pace to a brisk walk to get to my destination faster.
When I arrive at the bell tower, Rhys is standing outside with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his hoodie up around his head. He's so unbelievably handsome without even trying.
"Hi." I say, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"You showed up. Wasn’t sure if you were standing me up again."
I roll my eyes and nod toward the tower. "So, why here?"
He looks up at the colossal tower behind him for a moment but doesn't answer my question.
"C'mon."
I watch as he pulls a set of faculty keys from his pocket, and once again, I can't help but notice he has so much unrestricted access to off-limits things. If I asked him, he'd probably not answer, but I'm going to find out. I follow closely behind him as he unlocks the door and walks inside. The heavy wooden door slams shut behind us so loudly, I almost have a heart attack in the middle of the tower.
"Jesus, Rhys," I screech.
He shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, I forget how loud it is." Then he brushes past me and starts up the stairs as I take two at a time to keep up with his ridiculously long legs. Halfway up the never ending stairway, he slows down, realizing I can't possibly keep the pace. We walk side by side up the rest until we reach the very top, where the bell sits in its large metal setting. Its deep bronze color is stark next to the dark concrete of the tower. But it sits ready to chime at any moment. It's an original piece of St. Augustine's history, dating back to the eighteen hundreds. That, I know from history class. All four sides are open, and the wind is cooler up here as it whips around us. Even so, the view is absolutely incredible. You can see all of St. Augustine from one spot. The top of every building is visible, bathed in the pale moonlight.
"Wow," I breathe. I walk over to the huge archway opening and peer out at the campus beyond, completely bewildered that I didn't even realize this spot had potential this way.
"Yeah," is all Rhys says as he walks up to stand beside me.
"How'd you get access up here, anyway? And into the faculty parking lot, the Mustang? All of it?"
My questions are greeted with silence, as usual. Rhys is closed off tight like a vault. The only ones who penetrate the solid doors are Sebastian, Alec, and Ezra. That much I've seen in the short time I've known him. In this moment, I feel like a fool for even considering his invitation tonight.
We sit in silence together, both gazing out at the bleak darkness, searching for what, I don’t know.
"Not the only one with a fucked-up family, Valentina," he says raggedly, never dragging his eyes away from the darkness in front of him. My heart pangs at his admission. I’ve never met anyone as closed off as him. He keeps his wall built high, deflecting anything and everything personal.
"I don't know how to talk to anyone… about my past."
I put my hand on his arm and his gaze flits to my hand, then my eyes. "You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with, Rhys. Just know you have someone that’ll listen, okay? You listened to me, even though things are… weird between us. It helped more than you know. Sometimes all we need is to let it go."
He nods and tears his eyes away, back out to the darkness. So many unanswered questions hang in the air, but I'm too afraid to push. I don't want to watch him close up and push me away. The silence is suffocating. I can feel his hesitation, the pain that has its bitter hold on
him. Whatever it is about his past, it haunts him. That much is obvious.
"If I tell you the truth, you'll hate me even more than you do now."
"I don't hate you, Rhys. I don't trust you. There's a difference."
"You should."
He turns and looks at me with a cold, unyielding look in his eyes. "I killed my sister when I was six years old."
I gasp escapes before I can stop it, and I cover my mouth reflexively. What?
He says nothing for a few moments. Anguish and turmoil written across his face in the furrow of his eyebrows, the scowl on his lips, the pain in his eyes.
"We were playing in the front yard, tossing this obnoxiously large ball my parents had gotten her for her birthday. Had Minnie Mouse on it. I tossed it farther than I did previously because she brought it back so quickly, and it went farther than I thought it would."
The muscle in his jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth together in a mixture of anguish and anger. He looks down at his hands. "It went on to the road. She never looked, she ran after it and was hit by a car. She was four."
I can’t even imagine the tragedy that he’s been through. It’s the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard. I don't even realize I'm crying until I feel the teardrops hit my hand against my mouth.
"I was her big brother, her protector, and I killed her. If I had just paid more attention, she'd be here right now."
"Oh, Rhys, you were a child." I tell him, stepping into his space, placing my hand on his arm to comfort him.
"After the accident, my parents couldn't even stand to look at me. I was the reason their four-year-old little girl was dead. Soon, after so many nights of staying home alone with a babysitter, they came to the house to get me. They dropped me off on the doorstep of St. Augustine. Surrendered me as a ward of the state."
If my heart wasn't broken before for him, it is now. Into tiny pieces that gut me. This poor, poor boy. I can't imagine the pain he must have endured. Not only the guilt of what happened to his sister, but the pain from losing his sibling. Then, his parents abandoned him for something that was truly an accident. How could you walk away from your child?
"Father William is my guardian. Well, he was until I turned eighteen. He took me in, but he's a priest. He knows kindness and compassion, but he's not a father. He never has been. I've felt like I was a burden to him from the beginning. I overheard a conversation between him and a sister one night when I was around ten. He was tired. Tired of the responsibility that came with a troubled child."
He looks up at me, and I can see the pain in his eyes.
"I've always been the one without a family, without someone to love them. I found a family in my brothers and I've locked all this shit away to where I don't have to think about it. I'm not telling you this shit so that you'll forgive what I've done. I don't want to be forgiven, even if I am sorry for it. The shit I put you through, it's unforgivable, Valentina. I wish I could take it back, I wish there was something I could do to make it right, but I can’t. I’m sorry. All I can do is show you that my feelings for you are true. Show you that I’m not the piece of shit you know me as."
I mull over his words and weigh the apology. The sincerity behind it is real. I can feel it. I know I can forgive him for what he’s done because now that he’s vulnerable, I see every ounce of pain that is etched into his features, and I want to erase every single memory that haunts him. Everything that drags him down to hell. Take away what makes him fallen.
"I'm a monster. I'll ruin you without even trying. You need to stay away from me. Run as far as you fucking can and never look back."
"You don't get to make that choice for me, Rhys Blackwood. Of all the choices I've been robbed of, you do not get to tell me who I'm going to choose to care about."
He shakes his head and looks away.
"I just want you to know who I am. Who I really am. I don't pretend to be fucked-up, Valentina, I am fucked-up, and the light that surrounds you is still not enough to bring me back from this hell."
"You’re not scaring me away, Rhys."
I take his hand in mine and lace my fingers through his. After a few moments, he accepts my touch, sinking into it, before letting go. It's a rare moment of weakness he's showing and it makes my heart hurt so much inside, I have to bite back the tears that sting.
"You are not broken and you are not a monster. You are someone who has been dealt a hand that no one should have to face alone. What your parents did to you was evil, Rhys. You have to understand that they are evil people to abandon their child when he needed them the most. You are not them."
Rhys looks up at me and grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. It’s not a declaration of his feelings for me, it’s not a long, drawn-out heartfelt apology that makes me swoon, but it’s enough. It’s enough for me to realize that there is something good inside of him and not just the ugly that has festered inside of him for so long.
Together, we sink down to the floor of the bell tower and sit in silence. Neither of us says anything in a moment that deserves quiet. Tonight changes everything between Rhys and me. There's no going back to where we were before the revelation of his past and the truly damaged part inside of him that he bared for me to see. Maybe he doesn't realize the shift in whatever it is between us, or the shift in himself. But, much like myself… tonight he let go of demons that have dragged him down for too long.
A week has passed since the bell tower with Valentina. For the first time in my life, I give a shit about someone enough to let them through the cement walls. Telling her my secret, the one thing that haunts me every single second of my life, was like ripping off a bandage that had been silently seeping for years. Years I spent ignoring until it's festered into a sickness that has taken over. Because the truth was too painful to face. The truth wasn't just painful, it was full of crippling agony.
I told her I would prove my worth to her, and even though it’s only been a week, I’ve tried my damnedest to make her laugh, make her smile. I had flowers delivered to her dorm with a stuffed lamb, and I know it makes me look like a fucking pussy, but it was my way of showing her that I’m serious about this shit, and I plan to make good on my promise. It’s not like I give a fuck what anybody at St. Augustine really has to say about me, anyway. I walked her to class twice this week, brought her coffee in the library when she studied past midnight. What she didn’t know was that I waited outside until she was done and then I made sure she made it back to her dorm safe and sound. A tad stalkerish—Sebastian’s words, not mine. I just wanted to make sure she made it safely. The only way to prove my feelings for her is to show her that making her happy was all I was after. Nothing physical, nothing that I was trying to take from her. Just simply that making her happy, seeing her smile, listening to her laugh is all I’m after.
Fuck, I’m turning into a pussy. She is worth it.
I've spent the last four hours staring at the ceiling, wishing sleep would take me so I could close my eyes and not feel for just a little while. I’ve been thinking of Valentina today but wanted to give her space. I don't want to overwhelm her with my affirmations. Telling the truth and unloading the secret I've held in for so long is like a weight has been lifted off of my chest. It fucking hurts, and it's raw. But it's no longer dragging me through hell. At least she knows I'm sorry for the pain that I caused her. Pain that I caused because I'm fucked-up and don't know how to handle my need for control.
The fact that everything I’ve done, my unnecessary hatred, is how I fucked up in the first place. I’ve replayed our conversation with Ezra over and over in my head until I could fully comprehend his words. It wasn’t Valentina. She was innocent. All of the times she tried to explain it wasn’t her and protest she was innocent. She wasn't lying. I should’ve fucking listened. I shouldn't have assumed the worst.
The clock on the wall reads three-thirteen and I let out an agitated sigh. I might as well get up and go for a run or do something productive instead of tossing and turning in bed, unable to s
leep. Maybe I can begin to sort out the shit in my head. Grabbing a pair of gray sweats, I pull them on over my briefs and grab a hoodie from my closet, then put it on. As I'm walking to the fridge to grab a Gatorade, my phone chimes with a text.
Glancing down, I'm shocked to see it's Valentina.
I can't sleep. I just keep tossing and turning.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I contemplate my response.
Same. Was going for a run.
The gray bubble pops up, showing she's responding.
Do you want to come over? Watch a movie?
Valentina Carmichael inviting me to her dorm in the middle of the night? Some would call this a booty call.
You're a pig. Better than being alone…
See you soon.
Fuck, I’m so glad she reached out. It’s all I needed after the past week of putting the ball in her court and letting her make the next move.
I shove my phone into the pocket of my hoodie, grab my keys and wallet, and walk out the door. I make it to her dorm in less than ten minutes and sneak in through the back door, making sure there isn't a sister guarding it with her life. Sneaking into a girls’ dorm in the middle of the night at a Catholic school is generally frowned upon, and even I couldn't talk my way out of that one. Avoiding knocking, I shoot her a text letting her know I'm here, and when I make it to her door, she's standing there waiting.
She looks fucking adorable in a matching set of pink pajama shorts and tank. Completely covered and perfectly respectable, but it doesn't stop my mouth from watering. Valentina Carmichael could wear a trash bag and still be the most beautiful girl in the entire room. She's flawless without a hint of makeup on, her hair thrown up on top of her head, and pajamas on. Effortless.