Bug

by Hunter, Ellie R.

  If I counted the seconds that passed between the slap and the gasps of shock that bounced around the pool area, it would’ve been three seconds.

  Perhaps I’m drunker than I thought, because I don’t feel the sting from his hand, but the embarrassment from everyone witnessing this. It hits me hard.

  “You are home, now go up to bed.”

  I don’t move. I don’t think I can. Huxley and I have had our fights, but he’s never hurt me before. Not physically.

  He leans down and hauls me up to my feet. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  My legs are moving before I consciously choose to move, and I ignore everyone watching me run away like a scurrying mouse.

  I catch sight of my bottom lip in my reflection in the French doors and wince from the trail of blood dripping down my chin. He made me bleed. A huge tear falls and then another. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I’m sobbing into the still darkness.

  “Ally, wait.”

  I can’t face him. There’s no way I can explain what the hell just happened. I carry on, half jogging, half walking to Huxley’s room when arms trap me against a hard chest. Ryder is safe, he always has been. He’s shaking against me and his rage relaxes me.

  “He hit me, Ry.”

  I don’t know why I’m telling him. He was there, he saw it for himself.

  “He’s going to pay for it, believe me.”

  “No he won’t,” I whisper, because it’s true.

  Huxley doesn’t face any consequences because he’s Huxley, but I appreciate the sentiment from Ryder.

  I unclamp his hands and move away from him. Even in the darkness, he’s handsome. I’ve imagined us together plenty of times. It would be so easy with him. Life would be fun, like it’s meant to be. With Huxley, he’s so serious and moody, and I never know where I stand with him, only that I’m his and he loves me to extremes.

  “Let me take you home,” he says, moving closer again.

  My back hits the wall and my lip stings as the air hits the open wound. “At least let me help clean you up.”

  “How fucking cosy is this?” Huxley sneers, and I fail not to squirm.

  “Dude, you fucking slapped her. Did you think I wouldn’t come and check on her? Get fucking real, Hux,” Ryder snaps, turning to face his best friend.

  Ryder’s tone bites into both of us, and Huxley finally looks at me, and then at my lip. He blinks once, twice, and his chest deflates. His eyes, usually hard and cold, melt, and he steps forward. It sets Ryder off, and in the blink of an eye, he’s is on Huxley, both of them a tangle of arms and legs, each of them trying to land a punch to the other. Ryder gets the better of Huxley and wraps his hands around Hux’s neck. I scream out and rush over, pulling on Ryder’s sweater until he backs off. Hux kicks him away, and then they’re putting as much space between them as they can on the upper landing.

  “Leave us,” he orders his best friend.

  “I’m not leaving you alone with her tonight.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her again, so back off, Ry.”

  The last thing we need is for Huxley and Ryder to start fighting again. I place my hand on his arm and he looks back at me. His grey eyes are brewing like a storm over the ocean, ready to defend me, but I should defend myself.

  “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course she’ll be fine.”

  Huxley seems to think twice after those words leave his mouth, and he shoves his hands into his pants pockets. He almost looks innocent.

  “I swear to God, man, if you lay another finger on her, I’ll break your face.”

  “Hey, I’ll let you.”

  Neither of us move at first. I stare down at the glistening white carpet and feel him staring at me as Ryder leaves us alone.

  “I’m so sorry, babe. I don’t know what just happened out there. Fuck. Please, forgive me.”

  I don’t know what happened either, but I know I don’t want it happening again.

  “I want to go home.”

  I haven’t been home in days, and the last time I was there my parents threatened to ground me, and then to kick me out with all my stuff. My relationship with them has changed since I became involved with Huxley. All my relationships have changed since Huxley, and I’m starting to see it now. He moves like he’s gliding across the hall and pulls his hands from his pockets and holds my face in his palms.

  His lips move silently as he gets a closer look at my lip, and then he says, “I promise, I will never lay another hand on you. Stay, please.”

  “We need some space…”

  Even in the dimly lit hall, I see the darkness sweep across his face like shadows. They disappear as fast as they appear and his shoulders sag.

  “Okay, let me clean you up, and then I’ll drive you home.”

  It feels like a lead balloon just sunk in my gut. I wanted to go home, and now he’s agreed. The idea of leaving is filling me with dread.

  He walks us into his room and turns the light on in his private bathroom. He picks me up and plops me down on the counter like I’m a child and turns on the water.

  His movements are swift and precise as he plucks a clean towel from the shelf and holds it under the water before ringing it out.

  “I think we should break up. I never seem to make you happy anymore, and you…you hit me tonight.”

  He presses the towel to my lip, and the urgency in his eyes has me paralysed.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “You’re the only person I love on this planet. I’m not letting you go.”

  “Huxley, we can’t keep going on like this. The whole school just saw…our fight.”

  “My mother owns that school. Do you think I give a fuck what the people who go there think?”

  He presses my hand against the towel and pulls my legs up around his waist.

  “We belong together. I’m going nowhere, and you’re not leaving. I’ve said I’m sorry and I am, so let’s move forward and let me look after you. I love you. Please, Allison. Believe me when I say it will never happen again.” He buries his head in my neck and nestles in. “You’re my Bug. I need you more than you know.”

  His lips press against the top of my shoulder and travel up my neck. His cheek rests against mine and he whispers in my ear, “I hate myself for hurting you. Please, don’t hate me too.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I find myself saying.

  But it’s the first time I’ve hated myself.

  Pulling me to the edge of the countertop, he picks me up and walks us into his bedroom, laying me down on his stupidly big bed. His slender body hovers above mine, and in the dusk filled room, his eyes shine as they look down at me. His thumb skims over my bottom lip, and I inwardly hiss as it stings. He ignores me, and his hand disappears under the sheets, nudging my thigh until I widen my legs for him.

  “You always feel so good,” he whispers as his finger slips inside me.

  I wasn’t ready for the intrusion. He moves slow at first, and fastens his pace until he’s satisfied I’m ‘good to go’. His body stretches across the bed. Opening the nightstand drawer, he tips a box upside down on the edge of the bed and the last condom falls out. Snatching it up, he puts it between his teeth and proceeds to fumble with his belt buckle. I already know this isn’t going to last long, he hasn’t bothered to strip out of his pants. He shoves them down his thighs far enough to free himself and works quickly at rolling the condom over his dick.

  He smiles at me, lazily and dirtily, before climbing back on top of me. As he pushes inside, it isn’t lost on me that it wasn’t an hour ago that he hit me, and now I’m letting him take pleasure from me. I keep my eyes shut, but as soon as they’re closed, Huxley’s hand flying toward me fills my mind. This isn’t right. I bring my hands up to push him off me when he stiffens, and then shudders through his release.

  “I promise, I’m going to make it up to you. Do you believe me?”

  I nod, because I’m not sure I can trust m
y voice to pull off the truth I clearly lack right now.

  Rolling off of me, he’s so gentle. I almost don’t believe it’s my Huxley. He nestles himself between my legs and rests his weight on his elbow, using his free hand to stroke my hair. I couldn’t move if I tried.

  “God, I don’t know what I’d do if you left.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here with you.”

  “Good. Don’t ever leave.”

  Before I met Huxley, I wouldn’t have thought he’d be so insecure. At first, I liked it because it made him human. Now, I think it’s dangerous and unhealthy.

  Huxley’s jeep pulls into his space at school, and thanks to the engine sounding like a thunderstorm, everyone knows we’ve arrived. I’m in no rush to open the door and climb out into the world. Huxley’s mother, Regina, bought me all new make-up, which cost considerably more than my old brands did, yet the concealer does nothing to help hide the cut on my bottom lip.

  Huxley’s warm hand clasps around the back of my neck and turns me to face him. For the first time since Friday night, his dark eyes fall to his handiwork.

  “If anyone says anything, tell me and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  I nod, not wanting to speak in case I say the wrong thing. Actually, it’s not in case, it’s a certainty.

  “And again, I’m so sorry.”

  Again, I nod, and keep quiet. My silence doesn’t anger him, he likes it. I’m doing as I’m told, and that’s how he likes me. The fact brings a tear to my eye, but I refuse to let it go. It would only make his Monday morning brighter on this rainy day.

  He throws open his door and I wait for him to walk around and open mine. I watch through the front window, and everyone still lingering under the shelter by the entrance are slyly trying to watch us, no doubt wanting to see if the stories they’ve been hearing all weekend are true. My stomach churns as I run my tongue over my lip.

  My door opens and his hand appears. I take hold of it and he helps me out. Every action, every moment has to be perfect and precise.

  Once I’m out and standing, I adjust my bag strap over my shoulder, and Huxley slings his arm around my shoulders. Always keeping me close. Safe in his mind, suffocating in mine.

  We don’t share first period, much to his annoyance, and as he walks me to class, his silence is loud enough to let everyone know not to say a word to me about what happened.

  This is the closest thing to a consequence he’ll get to. At breakfast yesterday, his mother cast a quick glance at me, and then refused to acknowledge me for the rest of the morning. His dad at least asked me what happened, but when Huxley spoke up for me with a bullshit lie of me tripping over drunk at his party, he frowned and went back to reading his newspaper.

  They both know their son, and they both could guess the truth, but they choose not to for an easier, quieter life.

  “Hey, I’ll meet you after class.”

  I’m spun around under his arm to face him and I close my eyes to his open, kind ones.

  I hate when he’s like this, caring and soft. It makes me want to cling to him and soak the moment up. When in reality, he should be like this all the time, not just when he’s treated me badly.

  “Are you listening, babe?”

  “Of course. I’ll see you after class.”

  Eyes land on us and stay on us until they pass through, and then new eyes land on us. Being with Huxley is like being in the circus. The town is always watching for the next part of the show, and I’m so tired of it.

  He leans in and his mouth comes toward mine. I flinch, knowing it’s going to hurt when my cut reopens.

  “Don’t,” he growls low and dark. “Don’t do that shit in front of these fucking peasants.”

  “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. It’s just you were going to open up the…”

  His lips land on my forehead briefly, and then he leans around me and opens the door.

  “Wait for me.”

  With a quick nod, I escape into class and sit at my seat in the front. The teacher isn’t in yet, and I can’t take the silence around me as my peers take their seats. It’s never this quiet. This is humiliating. I keep my focus straight ahead, wishing I was anywhere but here when it hits me that I could be.

  Before Ms. Graves arrives, I grab my bag from under my desk and run for the door. On instinct, I look both ways. With Huxley nowhere in sight, I make a run for the exit.

  The rain is heavier now, and it lashes against my face as I continue to run across the street. I run and I run, and I zone out. It’s not until I come to a stop on the bridge that I struggle for breath. My feet are throbbing from pounding the ground and my mouth is dry.

  Getting my breath back, I slowly walk the rest of way to my parent’s house. My heart works double time every time a car passes, and I have to remind myself that if Huxley were to hear I ran out of school, I’d know his car coming up behind me. The drive is empty and I’m glad. I let myself in and run up the stairs to my room.

  The familiar scent of home tugs at my already bruised heart and the tears come. They come fast, and they come heavy. A tidal wave of sadness engulfs me, and I choke on the very air I need to survive.

  Leaning on all fours, I do my best to calm down, but my body and soul yearn to free all the pent-up aggression, the sadness, the hurt, the pain. I ride the waves, unable to control them. I no longer want control. As much as it hurts, it feels good to let go.

  There are no eggshells to walk on, no pretences to keep up for appearances’ sake. There’s just me in my bedroom, and a long overdue meltdown.

  I cry for myself, selfishly, and I cry for the stupid girl inside me that desperately wants the boy who owns the town to love me like a knight in shining armour, not the villain.

  I cry because I know he never will, and every day I stay with him, he gains more from me and I less from him. He’ll never see it, but I will. I’ll feel myself shrinking every second we’re together.

  I’m not even eighteen. Life shouldn’t be this hard. I collapse onto my side and curl up into a ball. My tears soak into the sheets, but I can’t bring myself to roll over onto a dry patch. Sobbing, my eyes begin to hurt, and I taste the salt of my tears mixing with the blood from my lip. I have no idea when my lip busted open again, but I don’t attempt to stop the trickle of blood. I wallow, and eventually I fall asleep.

  I dream of darkness. I dream of pain. I dream of everything but happiness and light.

  I don’t know how much time has passed when my eyes open, but in an instant, I know I’m not alone, and the air in the room has changed from desperation to a simmering rage.

  A chill settles over my body, and I regret falling asleep wearing wet clothes. Pulling myself up, I push my fingers into my eyes to wake up some more and jump when I see Huxley sitting at my desk.

  “You look like shit,” he tells me, like I can’t already guess as I feel it.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  Now I’ve calmed down and can think a little clearer, I’m not surprised he found me here. I’m surprised he didn’t wake me up to have a go.

  “I came to check on you, considering you’re meant to be at school. Imagine my concern when I hear whispers that my girlfriend ran out of school like the wind moments after I walked her to class. The question is, why are you here?”

  “This is my home.”

  Cocking a brow, he draws out, “Is it? When was the last time you stayed here?”

  I don’t answer him. It’s been a while and he knows it.

  “It doesn’t matter, I’m always welcome here.”

  “I guess I’ll have to change that, won’t I?” A slow smile creeps across his face.

  “Hux, don’t, please.”

  I hate the begging in my plea, but it comes natural to me now, and I hate that about myself as much as I hate this town.

  He leans forward on the chair, his arms resting on his thighs. His jaw is tight, his fingers are laced together, all signs of him trying not
to lose his temper.

  “Why did you leave?” he asks, his voice softening so much, it sets a fire inside my chest, but nothing that makes me feel good. “I was so worried. I drove home and you weren’t there. This was the last place I thought to look. I nearly crashed losing my damn mind, all because I love you so much.”

  “This is my home. I shouldn’t have stayed over at yours so much!” I say, but I shout it, and the rip in my throat fuels me further. “You don’t love me, Huxley. You want to own me, and you take every delight in making me feel worthless so you can feel better about yourself. I don’t know why, but you do. I can’t do this anymore, I’m not happy. You humiliate me, make me cry, and you hit me—”

  At my words, he jumps up from the chair and I spring back and fall on my ass. He freezes at my terror, and in a sick, strangled way, it brings me satisfaction that he finally sees how his actions affect me.

  For once, his guilt looks genuine. However, it’s not enough for me.

  “I know you’ve heard people whispering around school. Half the student body feels sorry for me, and the other half think they can change you if you drop me and go out with them. Sometimes I wish you would, just so you’d leave me alone.”

  He turns his back on me and brings his hand up to his hair. He’ll start pulling at it, and he’ll expect me to jump up and run to him, to get him to stop hurting himself. But he’s shit out of luck. He can do what he wants to himself. I’m not falling for his shit this time.

  Only, his hand falls to his side and his broad shoulders sag under the weight of whatever is running through his mind.

  “Please, leave,” I murmur.

  His head bobs slightly, and my heart erratically thumps away, wondering if he’s going to listen this time.

  “It’s over, isn’t it?”

  I struggle to swallow.

  “We’re not good together, Huxley. It’s for the best.”

  In a flash, he’s turning around and walking toward me. Bracing myself for anything, I’m relieved when he presses his lips to the top of my head and lingers for a moment.