by S. J. Sylvis
She turned around, and her expression grew worrisome. “Madeline stopped waving at me and smiling. She wouldn’t even look at our house anymore. I remember waving at her once when she got home from school, and the poor girl froze. She just stared at me before dropping her head and running inside to slam the door.” She shook her head, clearing the memory. “It was so strange. I thought something may have happened between you two.” My mom gave me a pointed look. “Did you break her heart, Eric?”
I laughed. I actually laughed. It came out loud and angry, sarcasm hanging off each echoing guffaw. “Can’t break a heart that doesn’t exist, Mom.”
She eyed me. “What does that mean?”
Might as well get this over with. “Madeline knew Dad was cheating on you with her mom. For a long, long time. That’s why she stopped waving at you, and that’s why she stopped talking to me. She didn’t want to tell their dirty little secret.”
I hated the way my mom looked away at my words. I didn’t mean for them to hurt her, but I also didn’t like that she was insinuating that I broke Madeline’s heart. If I was being honest, it was the other way around.
Her tiny sigh had me swinging my attention back to her. She walked over the few feet, and her warm hands grabbed onto my forearms. “Sweetie, you can’t be mad at her for that.”
I scoffed, my arms flexing under her grasp. “The hell I can’t.”
She peered up at me, her eyes so warm and comforting. My mom was the nicest person on this earth. I was sure of it. I hated what my father did to her. “Madeline was a child. A child that, under no circumstances, should have known such a thing about the adults in her life. She was probably confused and upset.”
I shook my head. “She could have told me. She had years to tell me. Madeline isn’t a child anymore.”
My mom gave me a pitiful smile. “It wasn’t her responsibility, and it wasn’t yours.” She moved away briskly and started putting food on our plates. “You know,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m more angry with your father for putting you in such a terrible position than I am over him cheating on me.” My mom turned around, and I bit my tongue. Her eyes were watery, and I swore if she started crying in front of me, I was going to hunt my father down and rip his fucking head off. “I’m so sorry for what you had to go through, knowing what he was doing and having to pick between keeping his secret or hurting me. That wasn’t fair, and when he realizes that, it will wreck him, Eric.”
My voice cracked under the weight of anger. “He won’t realize it because he only cares about himself, Mom.”
She looked away again. “He cares about you, sweetie. And one day, he will own up to his mistakes. He will apologize to you. I promise.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to forgive him.”
My mom smacked my chest lightly and gave me a pointed look. “Eric.”
But both of our heads snapped to the noise fleeing down the stairs. My eyes widened as my stomach tensed. Oh, shit.
My mom and I both paused for a few seconds before we heard it again. Fuck. Madeline.
Madeline’s screams grew raspier, and my mom panicked, running to the steps, but thankfully, I was faster. “Mom, don’t. She’s having a nightmare,” I said over my shoulder as I bypassed her. “I can fix it.”
I very blindly let the statement fall out of my mouth with confidence. I can fix it?
Madeline’s shrill scream had my chest splitting open. I scrambled up the last step, flung my door open, and all but dove onto the bed, ready to shake her awake.
Her screams felt like nails being drug across a chalkboard. They were loud and real. Very, very real.
“Madeline!” I shouted, grabbing her and shaking her shoulders. Her blonde hair was all over the place, falling out of her ponytail. She was no longer tranquil looking. Her face was wet with tears that were spilling out from underneath her clusters of long, dark lashes. “Wake up.”
I knew she was in a different place, at a different time. Her head shook back and forth as her chest heaved. Her long legs kicked on the bed.
“Maddie!” I yelled, shaking her again. Her name on my lips sounded tortured. “Fuck this,” I muttered as I pushed my arms underneath her body and ran to the bathroom. Her head was moving back and forth, and I had no fucking idea how she hadn’t woken up yet.
Who has you, Maddie?
Whoever the fuck it was, was going to let go in 3, 2, 1.
The cold water hit us both, washing down on our heads like a downpour in the middle of spring.
Her blue eyes sprang open as she gasped for air. She almost flipped out of my slippery arms before I coaxed, “Madeline, it’s me. You’re okay.”
She snapped her head to me, the showerhead still raining down on us. Tiny beads of water ran down her face and blended in with her tears. A whimper of relief sounded from her pressed lips. I turned the water off at the same time she threw her arms around my neck even tighter. Her body shook and trembled as if she, herself, were an earthquake wrecking the world. Wrecking me.
“You’re okay,” I shushed, stepping out of the tub. We were sopping wet, dripping water all over the tiled floor.
What was I doing?
Madeline slowly pulled back to look at me, her arms still clutched tightly around my neck with mine underneath her legs.
I wanted to save her.
We locked eyes for what felt like years, but she didn’t let go. Her pink lips didn’t move an inch. Her eyes never strayed from mine.
And for once, I was actually okay with that.
I was okay with wanting to save Madeline, and for a split second, I think she was too.
Chapter Nineteen
Madeline
Eric’s room was so unlike the version of him that I was accustomed to. It was warm and inviting. I’d never seen the inside of his room, not up close and personal. I used to see small slivers of it when he would hold up those notes for me back in middle school, but since I cut him out of my life, he’d kept his blinds closed at all times.
His walls were a dark-navy color, but somehow, they made me feel warm. His furniture was the darkest and richest of wood. Even the lamp had a soft glow to it, like a cozy fire glowing on a cold night.
“Here.” Eric walked back into his bedroom as I stood there, peering down at the covers on his bed that I’d messed up in my psycho night terror. His stormy eyes wouldn’t meet mine as he thrusted clothes in my direction. “You can wear these.”
I couldn’t believe that I’d fallen asleep—on his bed, nonetheless. The blinds were open across the room, and I had been staring at them for at least a few hours. I knew his mom was home, so I didn’t turn his ceiling light on, only the little lamp on his bedside table. My plan was to just stay in his room with the faint glow of his lamp until my perpetrator left. I’d climb out the window, just like I did mine, and go back home.
But his pillow smelled so good. Just like him. All woodsy and clean. The last thing I remembered doing was trying to figure out exactly how to describe the scent when I’d closed my eyes and fell asleep. This was so embarrassing.
Before taking the clothes from his hands, I moved my gaze cautiously to the window. The car was still there. That stupid fucking red car.
Maybe I should have told my mom. But there were too many unknowns tied to that. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me, and I was even more afraid she would believe me and tell my dad, causing a whole clusterfuck of bad.
I felt dirty. And guilty. And a little deserving. I was embarrassed to tell anyone. I hated that Eric knew.
“It’s…it’s okay.” I shook my head, my arms still wrapped around my middle. “I’ll just go home.”
I couldn’t go home. But I couldn’t stay here either. I’d just have to figure something else out.
I began walking to gather my bag that held nothing but my phone, keys, and a random book, and winced when I remembered my ankle hurt.
“Why are you here?” Eric threw the clothes that I was assuming were his mother’s onto his bed when
I didn’t take them. I cannot wear her clothes.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, basically hiding my limp as I reached down to grab my bag. I went to fling it over my shoulder, but Eric snatched it out of my hand at the last second, causing me to tumble forward.
“Ow.” I grabbed at my stomach. I’d forgotten I scraped it too. I was such a mess. So different to how I was just months ago when everyone in the school thought I was put together with the pretty little navy bow that graced my ponytail on game days.
Nothing about me was pretty. Not then, and not now.
When I finally allowed myself to see Eric, he was staring at my hand clutching my stomach. I dropped it and pretended to act fine. “Give me my bag, Eric.”
He didn’t say a word. The room was heavy. His lingering gaze never moved from where I was clutching my stomach. “Lift your shirt.”
I was suddenly standing on hot embers; every single part of my body was bathed in heat. “Excuse me?”
“I said…” Eric started toward me, and my heart seized to beat. “Lift your shirt.”
“No.” Oh my God. Could this night get any worse?
Yes. It could. You could be over at your house, hyperventilating in the fetal position.
Eric was so close to me that I felt his warm breath wash over my features when he sighed exasperatedly. “Madeline. Fucking show me what you’re hiding underneath your shirt. I’d rip it off myself, but I think you’ve been violated enough, don’t you?”
I raised my chin as I choked back the overpowering need to cry. I wanted to be angry at his words, but he was right. And it meant something to me that he wasn’t going to overstep boundaries. It meant something that he was actually respecting me for once. He may have despised me, but he was further proving that he wasn’t the monster he pretended to be.
My fingers trembled as I fiddled with the hem of my shirt. Slowly, I pulled the cotton fabric up and glanced down to the thin, reddening scrape on my belly. I saw it earlier when I’d first come into Eric’s room, but I’d pushed the concern away, too hyped up on the adrenaline from climbing out my window and being inside his house.
Eric took a step closer, invading every bit of my air. That woodsy smell hit me head-on, and I tried to even my breathing. He appeared so concerned yet contradictorily angry at the same time. His black hair flopped forward with a bounce, covering up the two worry lines in between his naturally sculpted brows. His already cut jaw was even firmer than before. He was flawless up close and personal. The skin on his face was clear of any imperfections at all. Eric was cold with his dark features, but he was also breathtaking. Like an icicle—so incredibly beautiful, but he could cut you too.
When his hand reached out, he peeked at me for a quick second, gauging my reaction. When I didn’t so much as blink, his warm fingers landed softly on my skin around the scratch. I almost swayed. They were warm and tender as they all but caressed me. He trailed his pointer finger along the redness, and goosebumps scattered over my arms. A familiar pull tugged on my insides, and I was too far gone in his touch to even care.
His voice was low when he flicked his dark eyes to me. His other hand wrapped around my lower back when he peered down, stealing every single breath out of my lungs. “Why are you here, and why are you hurt? Did someone do this?”
Not technically.
My attention shifted from Eric to the window when the flash of lights moved through the room. I stepped away, breaking the intense moment between us, and ran over to the glass.
He was leaving.
The fucker was leaving.
My eyes clenched shut, my breathing coming back and resuming to normal.
Thank God.
I spun around quickly and rushed to my bag that Eric threw onto his bed, ignoring the slight twinge in my ankle. I was eager to get out of his bedroom with all of his things surrounding me that made me feel things I had absolutely no right to feel. “I…I have to go.” As soon as I stepped toward his bedroom door, I paused.
Wait.
I couldn’t face Eric’s mom. It was the very last thing I wanted to do.
But my options were limited. I could either climb out the window and injure my already sore ankle, or I could come face to face with my guilty conscience looking Eric’s sweet angel-like mother in the eye. She probably hated me just as much as she hated my mom.
“You are not leaving until you tell me what’s going on, Madeline.” Eric slid right in front of me and backed himself against the bedroom door. I peeked up at him and took a step backwards. Why was I letting him get to me? Was it because I’d gotten a glimpse at the tender side in him? Was I getting my hopes up and allowing that little crack in my wall to split even more by letting him in?
“I shouldn’t have come here,” I answered, being completely truthful.
Eric was acting in such conflicting ways that I was finding it hard to think straight around him. One second he hated me, and the next he was caring for me. One second he was glaring at me, and the next he was scorching me with a heated look.
What did he want from me?
“What’s that all about?” He tilted his head to the side, bouncing his eyes back and forth from me to the window.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I could feel myself closing off, the wall going back up, pushing him away. It was aggravating that I was doing it, but it was the only way I knew how to be.
Even with him.
Eric’s mouth twitched. “Didn’t you say, just a day ago, that you didn’t want me to be your hero?” My mouth opened and then closed. He took the opportunity to continue on, pushing off the door and slowly backing me up across the room. “Yet, here you are. In my bedroom. So tell me, why are you here?”
“Do you really want to know, Eric?” I was flying blindly. I had no idea what to say or do. I was trying to dig out the old Madeline. The unbreakable girl who pushed everyone to their knees in her wake, but it was different with him. With his soul-sucking eyes and sharp tongue. Eric didn’t put up with my shit. And he’d seen me break more than once now.
My shoulders squared, my head tipping to meet his. I could feel the strands of my high ponytail swaying against my spine. “Wasn’t it just yesterday you told me that being my hero was the last thing you ever wanted to do? So get out of my way, Eric. I’m going back home.”
“Stop it.” His words were sharp and actually caused me to flinch. They were a slap across my face, stinging my tender skin. He was suddenly in my space again and had somehow backed me all the way up to the wall across the room. His large hand wrapped around the small of my back. An emotion I hadn’t felt in a long time clouded my vision, breaking down my walls one by one. “You’ve already pushed me away once, Madeline. You closed yourself off to me and the rest of the world. I know why you did it. It was some type of twisted form of self-preservation. But there’s no fucking way I’m letting you do that again. I’m the one in charge here, and you’re going to tell me why you’re in my bedroom.”
I swore that the floor under my feet shook. My entire body vibrated with anger, and fear, and everything in between. I felt myself combusting from the inside. “Fine!” I shouted in his face, tipping my dainty chin up to meet his steely one. My lips were almost touching his. “I’m here because the man who raped me came home with my mom. So, I jumped out my window, hurting myself in the process, to get away before I came face to face with him again. I had nowhere else to go. I just knew I had to get away and go somewhere, and somehow, I ended up here. In your room.” My lungs burned. My throat was tight. Even my tongue was tingling.
Eric was unreadable. Completely blank. The only thing I noticed was that his grip on my back grew heavier as my shouts grew louder. After a moment of my labored breathing, with us at an impasse, his eyes shifted slowly from mine and over to the window.
“He’s gone now,” I managed to whisper, breaking the tightness in the air. I could feel the risen tension from both of us slowly fall to the ground in the form of relief.
My voice was still a whisper. “Not necessarily. I just know what he drives, and I caught a glimpse of his face. It…it was dark the night—”
He interrupted me with an ice-cold tone. “And what does he drive?”
I traced the side of his face, wishing he’d move away so I could go back to building my walls. But he was too close, and too warm, and too protective. “Why does that matter now?”
“What does he drive?” he demanded.
“If you’re wondering if it was your dad, you can relax, Eric. Your dad may have cheated on your mom, but he isn’t a creep.”
“What the fuck does he drive?” he growled, pinning me with a murderous glare. He shook his head, closing those deep dark eyes for a moment before opening them back up and calmly asking, “Just tell me what he drives. Please.” My heart twisted inside my chest as I watched the anger leave only to be replaced with pleading.
“He drives a red Porsche.” My answer was weak. I glanced down to his mouth and noticed his lips formed a grim line. Then, he nodded once before backing up and giving me room to breathe. My shoulders fell, and I tried to catch my breath that I wasn’t even aware I was holding.
Eric began pacing back and forth in his room with his hands on top of his head. He was wearing dark jeans and a gray Henley shirt that clung to his body, and I couldn’t stop staring at him in awe. He seemed so protective of me all of a sudden, and even though I denied it until I was blue in the face, his protectiveness was the one thing I desired the most.
Fear was knocking on my back door, ready to tackle me down with its heavy presence at the thought. I’d been pretending I was the bravest person of all for years, telling myself that fear was a useless emotion, but I was scared.