Haven's Knight

by Regan Ure

  I breathed a sigh of relief when the lesson finally came to an end. Quickly, I gathered my stuff and shoved it into my bag, walking past Damien and out of the classroom. I felt his gaze follow me.

  Later, I began to notice the looks I was getting from some of the girls. Some looked at me curiously, while others openly glared at me. I kept my eyes down and tried using my hair as a curtain to hide behind. I wanted to blend into the background, but I was getting attention, and it was the last thing I needed.

  By lunchtime, I was a nervous wreck. I was ready to hide out in the bathroom to get away from all of the unwanted attention. I was washing my hands in the sink when three girls entered the room and cornered me. I recognized one of the girls from earlier this morning. She was the girl who Damien had been playing tonsil hockey with.

  Up close, she was gorgeous. Her skin looked like white porcelain, and she had beautiful, sea-blue eyes, and shiny, long blond hair. The red mini skirt and white blouse she was wearing fit her perfectly. She looked like a real-life Barbie doll. The other two girls were rather plain looking, both with brown hair.

  Her two friends stood on either side of me, cornering me against the basin. Barbie stood directly in front of me while she glared at me. I had no idea what I’d done for them to act this way. I tried to take a step back to get away from her, but the sink dug into my back.

  "I just wanted to clear something up," Barbie said with a flick of her hair, looking at me like I was a piece of dirt that had been found under her shoe. I noticed that even her nails were perfectly painted with red nail polish.

  "Damien," she began. This whole situation made absolutely no sense to me. I gave her a blank look. Why on earth would she want to talk to me about Damien?

  "He is mine!" she said. "I give him everything he needs."

  This was way too much information. I had images of the two of them doing the dirty deed. Besides, why would I care who he belonged to, and why would did she have the need to tell me?

  "I don't want you to get ideas," she sneered, while her friends glared at me. I was beginning to think that they had all gone crazy.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I said quietly as I fiddled with my hands in front of me. When that didn’t help my nervousness, I grabbed onto the strap of my bag and clenched it tightly in my hands.

  "You might think that because he has shown you a little interest that you have a chance with him, but you don't," she continued while she looked at me with disgust. "Look at you, look at your clothes, you're ugly!"

  I flinched at her words and her friends laughed at my reaction to the insults. I had no idea what she meant when she said Damien had shown a little interest in me. I had bumped into him once, and he had been rude. Other than that, I hadn’t had any interaction with him at all.

  Suddenly, Barbie gave me one last dirty look and paraded out of the bathroom with her little followers right behind her. Once they were out and the door was closed behind them, I began to shake uncontrollably. I hadn’t done anything to anyone, yet somehow I’d made an enemy. It took a few minutes for me to compose myself before I could leave to find another place to have lunch. I couldn’t go back to the field because I was pretty sure that would be the first place that Chris would look for me.

  After walking around the school for a little while, I found another quiet spot. I sat down on the grass beside one of the smaller school buildings. Although it was quiet, there was a steady stream of students walking past. I heard movement behind me, and I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Chris had found me. I was sitting with my arms wrapped around my legs with my chin resting on my knees when he sat down in front of me.

  "Where were you? You weren't in our usual spot," he said to me with a friendly smile. His hair fell across his face, and he brushed it out of his eyes. He knew full well that I’d been avoiding him. He couldn’t have a one-sided friendship if he couldn’t find me.

  Though, at the moment, I had bigger issues than dodging the guy who stalked me and who also wanted to be my friend. Just then, Barbie and her minions walked past us and threw me a dirty look. I immediately dropped my gaze to the grass in front of me. I hoped Chris hadn’t seen the interaction between us, but he had. He looked from Barbie and her followers to me, then back to Barbie again.

  "What was that about?" he asked, turning back to me a second time with a curious look on his face. He asked the question like I was actually going to open my mouth and answer him. Instead, I just shrugged my shoulders and dropped my gaze back down to the ground once more.

  By talking to him I would be agreeing to the friendship he was offering, and I couldn’t do that. Besides, even if I told him what had happened with Barbie earlier, there was nothing he could do about it. I had a feeling that she was going to make my life very difficult at my new school. I still had no idea why she would think that I wanted Damien. I didn’t want anyone. I kept to myself and I hadn’t interacted with anyone. How on earth had I landed up in this mess?

  Eventually, Chris realized I was not going to tell him what he wanted to know. I noticed that he held two bag lunches in his hands instead of one. He set one bag down in front of himself and dropped the other bag in front of me. I wanted to ignore him and his thoughtful lunch, but my stomach growled at the thought of food. I tentatively opened the bag and peeked inside. The bag held a wrapped sandwich, an apple, and a soda. I couldn’t stop the emotions that his thoughtfulness provoked from me. He didn’t make a fuss about it, but to me it was a big deal. I glanced up at him and gave him a weak smile.

  I took out the sandwich and unwrapped it. It was ham and cheese, and it tasted great. I ate slowly so I could savor the taste. While I ate, Chris began to talk about some TV show that he enjoyed, but I had no clue what he was talking about. We hadn’t owned a TV since Grant had come into our lives. He talked about the latest movies that were playing at the cinemas.

  Even though I didn’t make eye contact or act like I was interested in his conversation, he continued to talk. The truth was that I loved listening to his voice, and to his opinions. I knew that I shouldn’t like it, but I did. My stomach was full after I ate the apple. I hadn't opened the soda, so I stuffed it into my school bag. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris secretly smile while he watched me.

  When the bell finally rang, I got to my feet and Chris followed me to my next class. Like the previous day, I ignored him completely while we walked. When I got to my class I went in and sat down at my desk without a backward glance.

  For two days in a row, he had held the conversation alone at lunch and shared his food with me. He wasn’t going to give up trying to be my friend, but I needed to be strong, and keep him at arm's length. If I let him get close, he would notice things I didn’t want to have to explain.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Haven

  Luckily, the rest of the day went by quickly. The couple of times I had spotted Barbie and her followers in the hallways, she, along with her two sidekicks, had glared at me. I tried to ignore them but I couldn't help feeling nervous that she'd singled me out. My life was difficult enough and I didn't have the time or energy to deal with a jealous bimbo, especially when she had no reason to be jealous.

  I hoped that if I just ignored her she would eventually leave me alone, but somehow I knew she was one of those people that would just keep at it. From what Chris had told me about Damien Knight, I didn't have a very high opinion of him. The fact that he was interested in someone like Barbie, the superficial type, made me think even less of him.

  I walked to my locker after the school bell rang, signaling the end of school. At my locker I sorted through my books quickly so I would still make it to the bus stop on time. If I missed the bus it would take at least thirty minutes, if not longer, to walk home. Once I was done, I closed my locker and hitched my schoolbag over my shoulder. I walked quickly down the hall toward the front of the school. Just as I was about to walk out of the school, I heard someone call my name.

  I didn't t
urn around to see who it was, but someone grabbed my wrist and spun me around. Automatically, without even registering the owner of the hand around my wrist, I cowered away. It was a reflex that had developed with years of abuse. My skittish gaze locked with the blue eyes of Damien Knight.

  What the hell did he want?

  "Sorry," he mumbled. Seeing my reaction to his touch, he released my wrist. "I called out to you but you obviously didn't hear me."

  From where I stood by the entrance to the school I could see the school bus was at the bus stop and students were starting to filter into it. I began to panic because I didn't have long to make it to the bus stop before the bus left without me.

  "I just wanted to talk to you," he informed me, a little out of breath. He ran his hand through his hair.

  My eyes scanned the nearby vicinity for any sign of Barbie or any of her sidekicks. If any of them saw me standing there with Damien, they wouldn't be happy. I didn't give Damien a chance to say whatever he was going to say because I turned and walked quickly toward the bus stop. He didn't try to stop me and I made it onto the bus.

  I sat down in the first open seat I could find; it happened to be a window seat, and as much as I tried to not look, my eyes found Damien still standing where I'd left him. His eyes met mine and he looked a little annoyed. I turned and concentrated on the floor of the bus in front of me, ignoring him.

  Most girls would probably kill for any type of attention from him, but there was nothing he could say to me that I would be interested in hearing. I couldn't understand that despite all my efforts to keep everyone at a distance somehow Chris still sought me out at lunchtime. He was determined to be my friend even though I'd made it perfectly clear I wasn't interested. Now I had Damien trying to talk to me as well. I wished everyone would just leave me alone.

  I pushed thoughts of Chris and Damien from my mind when I entered my house. The nervous knot began to tighten in my stomach. The house was quiet. There were empty beer bottles littered around the sofa. The stale smell of smoke hung in the hair. The ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts that added to the horrible stale smell in the air. I hated the smell.

  With a sigh, I dropped my schoolbag by the front door. First, I began to pick up the discarded beer bottles, and then I emptied the ashtrays. Once I was done cleaning up I went into my room. I got my pajamas and went for a quick shower. Then in my room I got my books out and I finished my homework. When my homework was done I went into the kitchen to start making supper.

  There wasn't much in the cupboards. It was my responsibility to buy the groceries. My mom would give me a certain amount of money to buy what I needed for the week. It wasn't much, but somehow I managed to get enough groceries out of it to last the week. We lived on mostly pasta and sauce or canned food.

  My mouth watered at the memory of the apple Chris had given me for lunch today. I couldn't stop the warm feeling from blooming inside me when I thought of how kind he’d been, making an extra lunch for me. He never asked why I never had lunch, he just packed me one. I shook my head to shake the thoughts from my mind. I couldn't let him get under my skin.

  I made some packaged spaghetti with cheese sauce. Pasta dishes were always quick and easy to make.

  Dread began to build up inside of me while I waited for Grant to get home from work. He hadn't hit me yesterday, so chances were I wouldn't be so lucky tonight. Some weeks were worse than others, but he would hit me at least three times a week. If it was a bad week, he'd hit me every day. Sometimes he'd only punch me once or twice and other days he'd hit me more than that; it all depended on his mood.

  Most people would run or fight back, but it only made things worse, so I just let him hit me. It was easier. If I didn't put up a fight, it would end quickly. I'd learned from an early age to let him hit me without fighting back, because once I'd fought back and he'd beaten me black and blue. I hadn't been able to go to school for a week.

  My breath hitched in my throat when I heard the front door creak open. I stood by the fridge, waiting for Grant to enter the kitchen. A few seconds later, he stepped through the doorway. He looked tired and annoyed. It wasn't a good sign. His clothes were dirty from working on cars. He stepped closer. He smelled of car oil and cigarettes. His cold eyes remained on me as he took another step closer. His expression was hard to read. It took such restraint to just stand there when I knew what was coming. Instinct cried for me to run, but I ignored it and held my body still in front of him.

  I didn't look directly at him; instead, my eyes kept watch on his hands. They were dirty from working on the cars. He stopped right in front of me. That was the first sign. The second sign was him fisting his hands. My eyes flickered to his and I could see the evil glint in his brown eyes. I closed my eyes and waited. It took all my self-control not to run and hide. I knew what was coming and there was no escaping it.

  He didn't make a sound when his fist connected with my stomach. Pain exploded where he'd hit me, but I bit down on my lip to stop from crying out. Somehow I remained upright on my feet, but I was leaning against the fridge for support. A grunt was the only sound he made when his fist connected with my right ribcage. I groaned while I clutched the spot he'd just hit. I knew he hadn't broken anything, but it hurt so much. I tried to take a breath and a sharp pain shot through my side.

  Two more hits to my other side and I collapsed onto the kitchen floor. As I lay on my side he gave me one more kick to the stomach, and then it was over. He turned and sauntered over to his food, took his plate, and without looking back at me walked out of the kitchen.

  I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the pain. If I lay on the kitchen floor without moving, and breathed in short and shallow breaths, the pain wasn't too bad; but when I tried to move, the pain intensified. I wanted to stay on the floor, but there was always a chance he would come back and hit me again. I couldn't let that happen. I needed to get to my room.

  I held my breath as I pulled myself up into a sitting position. It hurt but I leaned with my back against the door of the fridge and took another breath and pulled myself up by the handle of the fridge. I took a moment for the wave of pain to ease before I started shuffling slowly toward the kitchen doorway. The back of Grant's head was visible on the sofa while I continued to shuffle down the hallway to my room.

  It felt like forever before I reached the safety of my room. In the darkness, I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally lay down on my bed. I reached for a bottle of painkillers I kept next to my mattress and swallowed a couple of the tablets without water. They wouldn't help that much, but I would do anything to try and ease the pain.

  Under my mattress I reached for the photo of my father and me. I held it in my hands while I lay in pain. Physically, I battled the pain, while emotionally I clung to the memories of happiness. No matter what, I had to hold onto the hope that one day I would be free and happy.

  I drifted off to sleep only to be woken up with a sharp pain in my side. My hand soothed the injury under my shirt. I bit my lip when I pushed down slightly. It was definitely bruised. I didn't sleep well. I managed to fall asleep again, but every time I moved in my sleep the pain would wake me up. Eventually, it was time to get up.

  My rib was still sore, but the rest of my injuries weren’t as painful anymore. I held my side when I stood up.

  Everything took longer to do because of the pain every little movement caused. It took twice as long to get dressed and I was running late. I had to hurry because I didn't want to miss my bus to school. If I missed my bus, I would be forced to stay home.

  By the time I made it onto the bus, I slumped down in the seat and suppressed a groan when I adjusted my aching body. It had been the hit to the rib that was going to take a few days to heal. I was so used to this and my threshold for pain was higher because of it. For most people these injuries would be too severe for them to function, but I could still walk and move around as long as I didn't overdo things.

  I promised myself I'd rest for a bit when I got
home after school. My forehead leaned against the cool window while I watched the scenery outside.

  When I got to school, my stomach grumbled. I hadn't eaten last night and I'd forgotten to eat breakfast, but the grumbling in my tummy was nothing compared to the pain caused by the bruised rib. On my way to my first class a couple of the students bumped into me, and I had to bite down on my lip to stop from crying out in pain.

  Even though I had a lot on my mind, and I was in pain, I kept an eye out for Barbie and her sidekicks. I saw them once after my second lesson and they all giggled and laughed while pointing their fingers at me. I put my head down and tried to ignore them but I couldn't help the flush of red caused by embarrassment that crept into my cheeks.

  It wasn't like I'd never been bullied at school before. I was the quiet and weird girl who didn't have friends or talk to anyone, so I was singled out to be bullied by the popular kids. Usually it wouldn't last too long before they moved onto their next victim and forgot about me.

  This was the first time I was being picked on because of a guy. A guy I didn’t want anything to do with. Barbie definitely had issues if she was jealous of me.

  It was finally lunchtime. My hunger pains were getting worse because it had been nearly twenty-four hours since the last time I'd eaten, and my bruised rib was still sore and aching. I decided there was no point in trying to avoid Chris because he would find me anyway, so I started walking toward the field.

  "Hey," someone called from behind me.

  I kept my eyes down and I continued to walk.

  "Hey." The person called out louder.

  The person was definitely trying to get my attention, but I wasn't interested. A hand grabbed my arm to halt my escape. The unexpected jolt caused a pain to shoot through me. I bit my lip as I turned to see who'd grabbed my wrist and my eyes clashed with the blue eyes of Damien Knight.