Ache

by S. M. Soto

  He’s going to kill me.

  I frantically fight for breath, my stomach churning violently against the struggle to breathe. My eyes bulge and strain with the lack of oxygen. Pain lances through my chest as I futilely suck in air that’s nonexistent. The thumping beat of my pulse gets softer and softer, until slowly, everything in my body gets extremely heavy. My limbs refuse to work and fight back, my eyelids are impossible to keep open and the pounding beat of my heart gets quieter, until slowly, everything fades to black.

  I pull into Myrah’s driveway at two a.m. on the dot. I’m so fucking exhausted and I haven’t slept a wink since the night before, but none of that matters. The only thing I can think about is Bea. She’s been on my mind non-stop, ever since I left Lakeport.

  I hated leaving her, especially right now, with everything that was going on, but I had things to handle back home. I had an agent to appease and needed to pack more stuff for my stay because I was running out of clothes. After my decision to stay in Lakeport much longer than originally planned, I’ve been going back and forth for clothes and meetings. I’m not looking forward to spring training which starts in just a few weeks. I don’t even want to think about leaving Bea for that long.

  I’m just about to shut off the ignition when Emery jolts forward in her seat. She squints her eyes against the pitch black of the night outside the window.

  “What are you doing?” I furrow my brow, trying to see whatever she’s looking for.

  “I thought I saw something,” she mumbles distractedly, still staring out the passenger window. Pulling out the keys, I open the back doors of the truck to retrieve our bags.

  “Is Bea expecting anyone?” she asks, turning to me, her forehead creasing. “I swear I just saw someone walk into the backyard.”

  My eyes dart to the closed gate and my heart speeds up. The driveway is empty except for her car. I scan my gaze around the neighborhood not seeing anything out the ordinary. There are no other vehicles down the street that look familiar or suspicious. Just as I’m about to ask if she’s sure, I hear something that sends a chill of dread down my spine.

  Emery turns to me with wide eyes. “Was that a scream?”

  I don’t answer. I drop our bags like they’re on fire and run toward Bea’s house at a full sprint. I try the gate, but its locked with a padlock, just like it usually is. My heart pounds within the confines of my chest, and the adrenaline thrums through my veins.

  “Fuck,” I hiss out, trying to get the gate open, but it won’t budge. I sprint back around to the front where I find Emery trying to bust open the front door. Suddenly, there’s a loud thud and an unmistakable cry for help coming from inside.

  “Call the police and go wait at Myrah’s.”

  Turning my back on her, I try all the windows, but everything is sealed shut, nothing left unlocked for an intruder to get in. Emery stomps in front of me, shoving a rock in my hand.

  “Here. I’m calling the police, but I’m not leaving.”

  I growl in reply, not having the patience to deal with her shit right now. Swinging my arm back with the rock encased tightly in my hand, I launch it through the living room window just as I would a baseball. The glass shatters on impact, the sound echoes through the quiet neighborhood, piercing the silence. The hole isn’t big enough for me to climb through, but it is large enough to reach my arm through and unlock the window. The jagged pieces of glass dig into the skin of my forearm and bicep as I reach for the lock on the window. Once I hear the click, I pull it open from the edge, pushing past the screen barrier.

  Blood drips down my arm as I run from the living room to the hallway, skidding into Bea’s room. I freeze over the threshold, not prepared for what I see before me. Connor has his hands wrapped around Bea’s throat so tightly, her face is an awful shade of blue and she’s no longer conscious. Something snaps inside of me and I lose it.

  I charge Connor at full speed. He lets go of Bea almost immediately and she drops down onto the floor in a lifeless heap. My body collides with Connor, and we grapple at each other, both fighting to overpower the other. We throw blows at each other. Connor jabs me in my ribs and swings, landing a right hook against my cheek. A growl tears from my chest and I start swinging like a mad-man. Each one of my blows land on his face, dazing him. My hands manage to snake around his neck and I squeeze with all my might, enjoying the panicked look in his eyes. His legs flail beneath me, but I don’t let up.

  “Liam!” The shrill voice penetrates my fog prompting me to loosen my grip. “She’s not breathing!” Myrah cries hysterically snapping me out of my haze. Emery must have called her instead of following my instructions to stay outside. I drop Connor to the floor with a thud and slam my foot into his face one last time before I check on my girl.

  Hurrying to her side, Myrah’s holding Bea in her arms as Emery checks for a pulse. Bending at the knees I wipe the hair off her forehead and tears spring to my eyes when I get a good look at the damage. Her face is bloodied and bruised, and her neck is covered in angry welts from Connor’s hands. My heart freezes in worry.

  “C’mon, baby,” I whisper, leaning my head over her chest praying I can still hear her heartbeat. But all I hear is silence. Tears slip out of the corners of my eyes and I start to panic. I frantically check her neck and wrist again for a pulse. I close my eyes trying to focus, and when I feel the faint thump in her neck I almost sob in relief.

  Taking over Myrah’s place, I rock my girl in my arms, praying she’ll pull through this time. She has to. She’s a survivor. There’s still so much I have to show her. She has to make it through this.

  When the police finally show up, they haul Connor into the back of the squad car and the paramedics lift my girl onto a gurney, yelling at each other in loud panicked voices that further my worry. Myrah throws herself into my arms and sobs, afraid of what will happen.

  She’ll make it.

  She has to make it.

  At the hospital, Shelly is a mess of tears, and Richard is holding her, fighting back his own grief over what his son has done. The doctor tells us she’s on a ventilator that is helping her breathe. She’ll need to stay on it until her lungs can work on their own.

  The problem is, her throat is swollen from Connor’s grip when he strangled her. Her trachea is enflamed, blocking her airway, making it almost impossible for her to breathe on her own. We’re told she has a mild concussion, a broken ankle and her scapula, the bone of her shoulder blade, is fractured. Apparently, Connor used a metal pipe on her, slamming it onto her back. The force of the blow onto her back is what caused her scapula to fracture.

  I stay vigil at her bedside all night and morning, waiting for her to wake up. With my head resting in my hands, I listen to the ventilator and let the silence of the sterile hospital room wrap around me. When she finally comes to and opens those beautiful hazel eyes, my legs almost give out.

  “You scared me,” I whisper, gently dropping my forehead down onto hers, needing to feel her skin against my own. I inhale her scent, only getting a small whiff of vanilla and strawberries with how strong the antiseptic and anesthetic smell is in the hospital room. It overrides everything. When I pull back, I watch as a lone tear trickles down her bruised, swollen cheek. Her eyes tell me all the things she’s unable to say.

  Thank you.

  I was so scared.

  I love you.

  “I love you, Bea Norwood.” I kiss her hand and make room for everyone else who have been waiting patiently to see her.

  Shelly sobs over Bea, placing gentle kisses over her daughter’s hands, too afraid to come near her face. Myrah, Emery and even Melody hold back tears as they crowd around Bea, telling her how glad they are she’s okay.

  I catch Richard’s stare from the opposite side of the room and he nods his head toward the door. With an aggravated sigh, I follow him out into the hall. I turn on him with a glare and my arms crossed over my chest.

  “I thought you should know that Connor has been arrested and booked.
His charges are a mile long, from statutory rape to aggravated assault, as well as breaking and entering. With Bea’s confessions to the…abuse, and his actions tonight, he’ll be put away for a long time. She’s safe now.”

  I nod my head curtly, having nothing else to say. He shifts his gaze to the side and rubs at his red rimmed eyes.

  “I love Bea, as if she was my own daughter, I should’ve seen it. The way Connor looked at her and treated her. I should’ve caught on sooner.”

  Blowing out a breath, I tilt my head up focusing on the tiles of the ceiling. “We all made a lot of mistakes. I blame myself for leaving.”

  Pulling himself together, he pats me on the back awkwardly. “I expect you’ll be there every step of the way during her recovery?”

  “Couldn’t pry me away even if you tried.”

  His mouth quirks. “Thank you, Liam, for loving Bea as much as you do. It might take time but be patient with her.”

  My eyes drift toward her hospital room and I nod my head. I’d wait forever if it meant I got to spend time with Bea. I wanted a lifetime with her. I wanted it all.

  She was worth the wait.

  I lean against Liam as he guides me into the near empty bedroom. There’s only my bed and a carpeted floor filled with boxes. While in the hospital, my mother put our house on the market with the help of Richard and bought a two-story, no more than ten minutes away. Myrah was just glad I wasn’t too far from her.

  The new house looks nothing like our old home. It’s almost like my mother tried to find a house that was the exact opposite. It’s a simple two-story build. With slate rock steps and brick pillars, and a busy neighborhood, this house is a welcome change.

  Keeping her word, Myrah visited everyday with the help of Liam. He never left at all. He’s been sleeping on the couch for two whole weeks and I haven’t once heard him complain.

  Last week, as much as I didn’t want to, I finally gave my full statement to the police. I’d given one before, but this one was in full, for the court proceedings. This statement was going to be the one to lock Connor away. Liam offered to be there with me, but I knew I couldn’t do it with him there, I needed someone else. Someone who knew what it was like. Knew how hard it would be retelling all the horrible things Connor did to me.

  Melody held my hand tightly as we walked through the station doors. She squeezed reassuringly and promised she wouldn’t leave my side. It was harder than I thought, telling the officers about the abuse. They were so thorough, needing to know everything, down to the little details. It made me feel dirty all over again. But when it was over, I felt cleansed, like I was a new me ready to start a new life. One where Connor couldn’t taint it.

  I tried not to think about him, but sometimes it was inevitable. He was out of my life, but I couldn’t seem to escape him in my mind just yet. My therapist said it was normal, especially after years of enduring abuse. She told me one day I’d be free of Connor: mind, body, and soul. I couldn’t wait for that day.

  She also tried to explain that sometimes, childhood environments that are emotionally unsupportive and characterized by competition for attention have been associated with sexual violence and abuse. Having emotionally distant and uncaring parents are a major link, and Connor’s parents? They were too invested in their careers their whole life to pay attention to their son.

  Hearing all this didn’t make it right. Hell, it didn’t even make it better, but at least it shed a little bit of light on why.

  Liam leans down, transferring me to the bed, snapping me out of my thoughts. He starts fluffing all my pillows making me laugh.

  “You seriously don’t have to do that.”

  He ignores me, fluffing away, so I let him coddle me a little more. I know he feels helpless in this situation, but what he doesn’t know is just having him here every day is enough for me. He’s my anchor. He’s my protector. He’s the love of my life.

  “Wow, looks like you got the full treatment huh? Hot guy fluffing all your pillows? Damn, when I die and go to heaven, this is what better be waiting for me.”

  I toss my head back and laugh at Melody, who’s leaning against the doorframe smirking at me. She makes her sexy eyes at Liam, and I swear he actually shivers, and not in a good way.

  It only makes me laugh harder. I know Melody isn’t attracted to Liam in that way, as a matter of fact, she swings the other way, I think that’s what was most traumatic about the abuse for her.

  Since my accident, she’s been visiting everyday along with Myrah. When I first introduced them, I was glad they clicked instantly. They took to each other much better than I expected. At first, I just thought it was because they didn’t want me to worry while I was healing, but slowly I started to notice the little things.

  It took me a while to realize it, but I finally found out they meshed so well because they were both attracted to each other. I’ve always known Melody swung the other way, but Myrah? I had no idea. And to be honest, I don’t think she did either. Sometimes, we can’t help who we fall for, and that was just life—unpredictable.

  Myrah and Melody were officially on the road to becoming a couple, and I don’t think I’d ever get used to it. Two of my best friends turning girlfriends, how the hell does that happen? I was happy for them, don’t get me wrong, but I was still trying to wrap my head around the craziness of it all. I hate to admit it, but they really are the cutest couple. Who knew such tragedy could bring together something so beautiful?

  “I’m heading to Myrah’s for a quick shower then I’ll be back,” Liam says. Leaning down, he drops a chaste kiss on my forehead, just like he always does. “Love you,” he whispers, and I smile up at him like a loon.

  “I love you, too,” I say back, still unable to believe this is real. It’s crazy how amazing he’s been through all of this.

  Once he’s out of the room, Melody makes herself comfortable on the other side of my bed and leans against the headboard. She reaches out for me, and pulls my hand into hers, running her fingers along the tattoos that now cover my scars.

  “You are incredible. You know that, don’t you?”

  My chin quivers with emotion and her eyes fill with tears as we stare down at the colorful ink. Unable to stop myself, I slip my hand from hers and rub my thumb over the puckered flesh along my wrist where the beautiful colors now rest. I close my eyes and smile as I think about the day I got the tattoos.

  The scars along my wrists were always going to be reminders of Connor and my weakness, but I didn’t want to look at them like that for the rest of my life. Instead, I covered my scars with something meaningful. Something that has always kept me sane while I dealt with Connor.

  Astrology.

  The stars.

  The universe.

  On my right wrist, in a kaleidoscope of colors, I forever have the galaxy inked on my skin, just like it was on my ceiling. The focal point of the tattoo is the Lyra constellation. On my left wrist, the galaxy and colors mirror my right, but instead of Lyra being the focal constellation, I have the star pattern of the Summer Triangle—for me and Liam. The star crossed lovers who were rewriting the stars, rebuilding our own story.

  Now, when I look at the scars on my wrists, I don’t see pain or weakness, I see happiness and the universe. I see the possibility of a better future. I see my summer nights with Liam, and I smile.

  “You seem happy,” Melody says, snapping my attention back to her. “And not just because of him. Anyone with working eyes can tell you two are head over heels in love with each other.”

  I turn to her with a content smile on my face. “I am happy. I feel free. I feel exactly how a twenty-two-year-old should feel. I might be a little screwed in the head now, but I can breathe again Mel. I can actually breathe.” I sniffle, tears clogging my throat.

  “I know you can, Bea,” she says with a smile and a lone tear trailing down her cheek. Melody was right. I’d know when I was ready to move on and let go when I was able to breathe again.

  And I can fin
ally breathe. The pain is gone. The ache is gone.

  I’m finally free.

  ONE MONTH LATER—FEBRUARY 2019

  “Have you started thinking about what you want to do for your birthday, B?” Myrah asks as she slurps fettuccini noodles in her mouth. I take a sip of my iced tea, before answering.

  “Not really. Maybe go out to dinner with Liam or something?” I shrug my shoulders noncommittally, still unsure about celebrating my birthday. I’ll be twenty-three years old, but in all honesty, it feels like I’m turning fifty. I’ve dealt with so much over the years, that celebrating my birthday hasn’t always been at the top of my list of things to do. I can’t even remember the last time I celebrated my birthday. Maybe when I turned fourteen?

  Melody and Myrah have been making such a big fuss about it lately. They even took me out to get pampered with a massage and pedicure. Although, I think it was Myrah’s idea to get pedicures and Melody was all for the massage. I’m not complaining.

  We’re having a late lunch before we head back home to see Liam. He’s taking me out to dinner tonight, too, since my mother is taking me out tomorrow for my actual birthday.

  “I think you and Liam should take a vacation somewhere. You both deserve it,” Myrah suggests.

  “I don’t know,” I mumble, swirling my breadstick through the creamy tomato soup. “He leaves for training in a few days and he’s already missed the first two weeks because of his arm, I don’t want him to miss anything else because of me.”

  When Liam broke into the house that night to get to me, the glass from the window ripped into his arm doing some damage. The worst part? It was his pitching arm, which meant he couldn’t participate in the first two weeks of spring training.

  “Melody, please talk some sense into her,” Myrah implores, nudging her in the arm. “Liam doesn’t leave until next week. That’s plenty of time for a vacation and birthday fun.”

  “Ignore her,” Melody says gesturing to Myrah. “You know how she gets when you don’t automatically agree with her ideas.”