by Cassie Mae
So instead of coming up with something that I’d have to scramble out of, I let out the most juvenile answer possible. “It’s none of your business, Brad.”
His brow doesn’t relax as he watches me clean up the milk spill and get myself my own breakfast. I ignore his stare sitting on the couch, clicking mindlessly through Saturday morning infomercials. I almost ask why he’s here, why he needed to spend the night, but I think I already know, and getting him to talk about his dad won’t help him cheer up or forget about last night. So I chew my cereal and sit in silence till the rest of the family and Paige get up.
Josh is down first, sitting between us and grabbing the remote control. It doesn’t even dawn on me what he’s wearing until the golden sleeve hits my arm.
“Why you wearing…that, little man?” Brad asks, half amused, half disgusted as he gestures to Tyler’s hoodie. My eyes bulge out, staring at my little brother and praying he doesn’t say Tyler’s name.
“It’s leverage,” is all Josh says. Then he hops up and goes into the kitchen.
Brad looks at me with that same expression of confusion, but I can see it slowly getting brighter and brighter behind his eyes, so before he can grill me and I slip, I hop off the couch too and help Josh with breakfast.
I stop in the archway to the kitchen, gazing at my brother, number eighty-eight printed on the back of the hood. And I can’t even hide it before I hear the front screen door slam, Brad’s retreating figure the last thing I see before running upstairs to text Tyler.
I think he knows…
***
I take a deep breath. Finally starting to relax. I’m wrapped in Tyler’s arms, in the back of his truck at the airport, and that’s all that matters.
He picked me up right after I texted, and we’ve spent all day together in neutral zones. We ended up at the airport around seven, and he packed bundles of blankets and pillows, and I made sure to bring a nice heavy coat so I could stay out longer. He reassured me everything would be okay and we’d be careful. At first I was skeptical, but as the day played out, I’ve started to relax.
“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Tyler’s on his side propped up on one arm, the other hand drawing circles on my stomach.
“Yeah.” I smile up at him. “But you can never tell me too much.”
“I.” He reaches down and gives me a kiss. “Love.” Another kiss. “You.”
His tongue runs along my bottom lip, sending shivers everywhere. And then he’s kissing me. Soft and sweet. His thumb caresses my cheek. His kisses set my body on fire.
And then a hand wraps around my ankle and a blast of cold air hits me as I’m yanked from the blanket and Tyler’s arms.
“What the—” Tyler yells from somewhere next to me, but I can barely see in the dark.
“Well, what do we have here?” Brad says from behind me. His fingers are handcuffs, my arms bent behind my back.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” I struggle to free myself, but he squeezes tighter…to the point of pain. Pain. Brad is hurting me. Suddenly my heart is crashing in my chest, fear locked around my throat.
“Light ’em up boys.” A truck on either side of us flips on their headlights, drenching us with light.
It takes a minute before my eyes adjust and I search for Tyler. My crashing heart drops into my stomach. His arms are held out on either side by Skyhawk defensive ends, looking like if they’re bent back any farther they’ll pop out of their sockets.
“Let him go!” I struggle to get to him, but Brad has my wrists in a vise lock. A cold sweat breaks out on me.
Tyler can’t say anything because they’ve gagged him with some cloth. But he’s sure trying. His eyes are wide open in a panic, burning into me, and I know he’s trying to tell me to calm down, but I can’t. I want to kick. I want to punch. I want to scream and yell and cry. Man do I want to cry, but none of that will happen. The sickening grip on my wrists freezes me to the spot.
Brad whips me around to face him and then slams me against the tailgate of Tyler’s truck. More pain vibrates through the middle of my back, and all the air is forced from my lungs. Is this happening? Really happening? A sore cry rips from my scratchy throat, and Brad leans in close.
Tyler makes a muffled noise, and it sounds like a struggle, but I can’t see him. All I see is Brad, his twisted features, more anger than I’ve ever seen. My arms are pinned at my sides and the harder I try to get away, the more painful his grasp becomes. The front of his shoes pin my feet to the ground and any attempt to bring my leg up results in increased pressure on my toes.
“Brad, stop,” I manage to squeak out. “This isn’t you.”
He shakes his head, breathing hard in my face. And then I smell it.
Alcohol.
“Brad,” I gasp, still struggling in his hold. “You’re… you’re drunk.”
“He’s… he’s a Trojan,” Brad says on alcohol laden breath. It comes out in a desperate whisper, just loud enough for me to hear. “He’s using you.”
“Ugh!” It’s a muffled scream from Tyler’s direction, and I can hear him fighting, trying to break free.
Brad looks toward Tyler and the defensive ends. “Really, Trojan? You think you can take all of us.”
I nearly stumble to the ground as he pushes me toward Jeff who grabs a hold of me and doesn’t let me go. Then he stalks over to Tyler with a malicious look on his face, something I have never seen before on him, but many times on his father. He pulls his arm back and hits Tyler in the jaw; a loud crack echoes through the quiet and makes my stomach lurch.
Tyler’s head jerks backward, and I scream, “Brad, stop!”
“That was for the game asshole.” Brad spits to the side and just stares at him for a minute.
Then he pulls his fist back and punches Tyler in the gut. “And that’s for my cousin. You don’t get to touch her. To look at her. She’s a Skyhawk… one of us.”
“Brad,” I choke out, but he ignores me as he lays another fist into Tyler’s stomach.
Tyler bends over, held up by the two guys on either side of him.
“No. Please.” I cry, tears tracking down my face. I struggle in the quarterback’s arms, kicking my legs backward, desperate to get to Tyler and protect him. Brad turns and looks at me, a sinister sort of smile crossing his lips, and he turns back to Tyler.
“Stick to your own kind, asshole.”
Brad starts hitting Tyler repeatedly, the two defensive ends holding him upright while Brad takes his cheap shots. Hitting over and over in the face and abdomen. What can I do? How can I stop this? I have never in my life wanted to seriously injure Brad. He gets that at home, and I provide the safety net. But as I struggle in Jeff’s arms, I want to hit Brad. I want to paralyze him, gut him, tear him apart like he’s tearing me right now. And I realize as I don’t wriggle from Jeff’s grasp, I’m not as strong as I thought. I’m not strong at all. I’m weak. I’m miniscule. I’m a speck in this world who can’t fix things or make them go away or hide anything or keep secrets or help out. And every blow Brad delivers to Tyler’s gut is a crush to my heart. So hard that I can’t take it anymore.
“Stop!” I scream. “Brad, stop. I’m sorry. I’ll go with you, okay. Just please…you don’t have to do this. I’ll go with you. Just leave him…” I beg and plead, through my sobs.
Jeff’s grip loosens on my arms, and I take advantage, ripping myself away and walking slowly to Brad. I put my hand on his shoulder, hating the touch, hating my weakness, but seeing no other way out of this mess. “Come on. Let’s just go. Leave him. You’re right. He doesn’t matter. He’s just a Trojan.”
My heart breaks with every lie I say, but I don’t know how else to help him. I’m afraid of what Brad will do if I don’t stop him now. His friends don’t seem to be ready to stop him anytime soon.
So, I’ll sacrifice myself, my happiness, my love, so they don’t hurt him anymore.
Brad’s twisted mouth slowly relaxes. His bloodshot eyes blink and blin
k as he gazes from my eyes to my touch on his shoulder. He blows out a pungent breath, nods, wraps his arms around my wrist, and pulls me away from Tyler.
It takes all the will I have to leave. I can’t hide the hot angry tracks that fall down my face.
“Leave him,” Brad says to the rest of the players. Brett Peterson hesitates for just a moment, but then he catches up to the rest of us.
I risk a look at Tyler as I get in the car. I don’t recognize him. He looks like he got hit by a truck, a crumpled heap on the ground, face swollen, his right eye shut, and a cut running through his lower lip. He meets my gaze and the look of pain in his expression makes me want to sob and run right back to him, to pick him up, to take care of him.
But I can’t.
The only way I can protect him now is to leave him, and with him my heart.
I grab the keys from Brad because I’m not letting him drive, then I plop into my aunt’s car and start the engine.
I don’t look back, I can’t bear to. The scenery passes quickly outside the car, but I don’t see it. I can’t see anything past the vision of him lying there. Somehow I have to get him some help.
There’s a horrible ache in my chest, like someone is crushing my heart. My eyes burn and my fingers itch on the steering wheel. I have a vision of my hand grasping around the cold plastic of the door handle, yanking it, and then forcing the door open. After that, I jump out of the car, rolling on the ground like they do in the movies and run all the way back to him. Once I get to him I’ll cradle him in my arms and never let him go.
I can’t believe I left him.
My phone bites into my hip and I ease it out at the next stop sign. The light of it illuminates the interior of the car.
“What are you doing?” Brad asks, looking over at me.
I want to scream at him that it’s none of his effing business, but instead I say, “I’m just texting Paige.”
Need u 2 go 2 airport NOW, backside on Capitol Rd. Look for T’s truck. He needs help ASAP.
“What for?” Brad glances at me again.
“I was going to meet up with her later. I’m canceling. I just want to go home.” I keep my phone in my hand waiting for her to text back.
I don’t have to wait long.
On my way. What’s going on?
Can’t talk now. Call u later.
I put my foot on the accelerator, turning down the road that leads to my house. As much as I’d like to drop Brad off at his place, I can’t imagine what Uncle Mike would do if he found out Brad found his liquor cabinet. I hate that I’m still protecting him.
“I thought we’d go grab a bite to eat, you know go hang out. Talk about this.”
In what world does he think that I would go get something to eat with him after what he just did?
“Brad, I’m really tired. We’re going home.”
His eyes widen, so I clarify.
“My house.”
He breathes out a sigh, then turns to the window. It’s quiet save for the sound of the radio.
“You’re not going to see him anymore.”
I force myself not to roll my eyes. I can’t believe he’s done this. I’d try to talk some sense into him if I thought it would help, but he’s drunk and angry, so I bite my tongue and pray Paige get to Tyler fast.
I hope he’s not hurt too bad. He could have internal bleeding. Maybe he has some head trauma or a concussion and now he won’t be able to play anymore or worse.
My arm shakes and it spreads to the rest of my body till I look like I’m having a seizure. I gasp for air and can’t get enough, breathing in quick little pants.
I have to get back to him.
I pull the car to the side of the road, then swerve around in the other direction. Without warning, Brad wakes up from his alcoholic daze and grabs the wheel.
“Stop, what the hell!” I scream, slamming on the brakes so we don’t run into a tree.
“Don’t even think about it,” he spits, anger pulsing behind his eyes. “If you think what I did tonight was bad, you just wait. Don’t forget we’re playing them in two weeks. I’d hate for something worse to happen on the field.”
“You wouldn’t.” I glare at him and barely restrain myself punching that sweet spot Dad taught me.
“Don’t think I would? Try me. I didn’t hesitate to break Jacoby’s leg. You think I wouldn’t put him in a body bag for messing with my family? Watch me. There are a lot of accidents that happen on the football field. Broken bones. Broken necks. Concussions so severe people never recover.”
That’s it. I yank the keys from the ignition and toss them out the window. He curses at me, but I don’t care. I pull myself from the car, and start stomping towards my house, hoping he follows and hoping when we get there he passes out so I can lock him inside, and then finally meet up with Paige.
A crushing hand on my wrist yanks me back before I can walk too far.
“Let. Go. Of. Me,” I growl. He does, and for a slight second, I see my cousin again.
“Stay away from him.”
“What’s… what’s happened to you?” I barely whisper. Brad’s eyes gloss again, and he covers his face, breathing hard, and clenching his fists.
“I’m keeping you safe, damn it.” Then he drops his hand, and his drunk wrath comes back with a bite. “You think he likes you for real? No, he just wants a piece of ass and he picked you because he’s getting back at me for the shit we pulled. Grow the hell up, Sammy.”
I smack him clean across the face. My hand stings and the back of my eyes burn. He looks at me like he can’t believe I would do that to him. I can hardly believe it myself, but we don’t say anything, so I turn on my heel and continue my march. He follows a few feet behind, and I refuse to look back at him, to see him rubbing the spot on his cheek. I hear him tripping over slight cracks in the walk, loose gravel, and when I finally hit my front lawn he stumbles into the back of me.
“Sam…” he croaks. “I’m…”
He doesn’t say anything else, tripping up my porch and swaying on his feet. I hoist him inside and put him on the couch. I call my aunt to tell her where he is, and then I call Paige on my way back out the door.
It rings, and rings, and rings.
Then it goes to voicemail. “Paige, please call me as soon as you get this. Have you seen him? Did you get there? Is he okay? How badly is he hurt? Does he need to go to the hospital? Please call me.” My voice breaks, and I can barely get the rest out. “Tell him I’m sorry and I love him.”
The only reason she wouldn’t answer her phone is if she’s busy. I’m sure she’s taking care of him. She probably left her phone in the car.
“Took you longer than I thought,” Jeff says, jolting me from my phone. He’s standing against my car, arms crossed over his chest. “Brad said to make sure you stay put.”
I gaze up and down the street, and it’s not just him. Half the team is parked along the road, and I turn back to Jeff and chuck my jacket at him.
“Screw you.”
As soon as I get back in the house, I shut the door, lock it, and then run for the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet in time before all the bile that has been threatening to make an appearance does.
When I have everything out of my system, I go to wipe my mouth with my hand, but it’s shaking so bad it takes me multiple attempts to get it across. Trying to get my phone out of my pocket is even harder. It slips out and falls to the floor.
Tears pile behind my eyes, blurring my vision. I’m going to need a hell of a lot more than sixty seconds of weakness today. I drop to my knees searching for my phone, pushing back my tears and my weakness and everything I should do and shouldn’t do. After a couple swipes across the screen, I wipe my sleeve across my face to clear my vision and dial Paige’s number.
Voicemail again.
I take a few deep breaths and splash some cold water on my face. The time on my phone says 10:22. I’ll give her ten more minutes, and then if I don’t hear from her I’m going
back.
I start my nightly routine of check-ins to keep myself busy.
Mom’s asleep, curled in a ball on her mattress. No tissues tonight, but her TV is on so I shut that off. Josh is sound asleep in Tyler’s hoodie, and I have to once again stop myself from panicking.
I take my sixty seconds right there in Josh’s doorway, crumbling inside, letting one tear fall. Two tears fall. Countless tears fall. Then my minute is up, and I breathe in deep, blow it out, and bend next to the bed and kiss my little brother on the forehead.
10:26
I check out my window. The team is still lined up on the street, busying themselves by tossing a pigskin. Brett keeps looking up at my house with a thoughtful expression.
I grab the shirt Tyler gave to me to sleep in and breathe in his scent. It makes my stomach do the funny little flip it always does, except for now more bile threatens.
My bed dips under my weight and I stick my face in the shirt.
“Please be okay,” I whisper.
It’s so hard to breathe. Every sharp intake of cold air pierces my lungs like jagged rocks.
“Sam?” I croak, but it hurts too much to say anything else. I don’t know if it’s too dark to see or if my eyes are swollen shut, and I move my hand from my panging stomach, searching for… anything I guess.
Dust and rocks hit the pads of my fingers, and I choke on the pooling blood in my mouth.
My brain’s losing power. I’m not even sure where I am anymore. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. My gut feels like it was hollowed out and then stuffed with shards of glass. I cough again, snort back the blood, and spit, but I don’t know where it lands. I don’t know if it’s on me or I’m in it. I try to call out for Sam again because that is the only thought I can grasp on to. Sam was here, but now… now she’s not?
I think I roll, and it feels like I’m falling. My brain fuzzes around the edges, and I cough out one more mouthful of blood before the lights go out.
***
Something shuffles next to my ear, kicking dirt up near my face. I still can’t see anything.
“Ah shit.”
Another shuffle.