All the Little Truths: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers High School Romance (English Prep Book 3)

by S. J. Sylvis

  “No.” I shook my head agitatedly, crossing my arms over my blazer. “Who’s going to tell him? Surely not you or me.” I gave her a pointed look. “If he finds out, knowing that it was one of your...” The words died on my tongue.

  Squealing tires flew down the road, and my mom and I both stood paralyzed. I wished it was Eric running after me, or maybe even just a random car who swerved to miss a squirrel in the road. But somehow, we both knew who it was.

  “Go to your room and don’t come out.”

  My stomach dropped. “How does he already know?” My father’s Jaguar came into sight as it flew into the driveway. “Madeline.” My mom grabbed my arms and shoved me inside the house. “Go. Lock your door.”

  Her blue eyes, the same vivid color as mine, struck me. “I have given you no reason to trust me. But I need you to trust me now. Go. Don’t come out until I tell you to. No matter what.”

  The fear and submission my mother always wore on her face like a fine layer of makeup was no longer visible to me. They had somehow morphed into something I didn’t recognize.

  She took a deep breath as my father’s door slammed. “Go.”

  Her tone vibrated the fear in my chest, and I quickly made a run for it, skipping steps in three to rush into my bedroom. I slammed the door, fiddled with the lock until it was secure, and sunk down onto the plush carpet, hugging my knees to my chest.

  My phone dinged a few times, and when I pulled it out, hoping it was Eric—even though I had left without saying a single word to him—I felt sick.

  Unknown: Did that guy really rape u?

  Unknown: Hi. It’s Hayley, are you okay? I just wanted to check on you.

  Unknown: Wow. Heard you got raped. That explains why you stopped putting out.

  Cara: Hey. I know we don’t talk anymore, but I’m sorry about what happened. If the rumors are true, I mean. Sure looked like it when Eric flipped out.

  I ignored every message and clutched the phone to my chest as I heard the front door slam.

  Maybe I should call 911?

  He hadn’t even hit her yet, but I knew he would. He always did.

  Their voices climbed up the stairs, and I wanted to cover my ears.

  “Do you know how embarrassing it is to get a call from the headmaster, saying my daughter had been raped by a man who was fucking my wife? Is that even true?”

  “That’s all you care about? You should be concerned about our daughter! Who cares how embarrassing that is! Your daughter was sexually violated.”

  Something slammed; a shriek from my mom was next. My heart started to skip beats; my head started to pound from rising stress.

  “You should have been the one to get raped. You always were trash! A dirty fucking slut. I can’t even stand to look at you. Where is she? I want to know every last detail, and I want you to sit there and listen, too. Maybe then you’ll feel so bad for bringing a man like that into this house that you’ll kill yourself. Madeline is better off without you.”

  I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

  “Well, I let you in here, and you’re just as bad! Hitting me when you feel like it, fucking me like I was made for your own personal pleasure and nothing else. You’re no more a man than he is.”

  “Are you fucking sticking up for the man who raped your daughter?”

  No, Dad. She’s trying to get you to see that you’re fucked up, too.

  There was another loud bang, and I jumped to my feet.

  “Do you like that? Huh?” There it was. That psycho-like tone in his voice that had my hair standing up straight. I threw my blazer off my shoulders and glanced at my window. Half of me wanted Eric to come to my rescue again, but the other half wanted him nowhere near my father.

  “Do you enjoy getting raped? Maybe I’ll just fuck you right now so you know how it feels!” My father’s laugh made me sick. “Oh, wait. I forgot. You’re such a slut you’ll probably enjoy it anyway.”

  My mother cried out, and something broke. A plate? A picture frame?

  I walked closer to my door, something pulling me forward. I was so fucking sick of being afraid. I was so sick of hearing this over and over again. There were big gaps in time where my father would disappear before he came back again, but when he showed up, it was like no time had passed at all.

  A shuffling of feet and rushed footsteps sounded from below. I opened my door just a crack, and instead of my father’s voice, it was my mom’s.

  “Leave.”

  “Are you fucking nuts? You won’t fucking shoot me. You’ll have nothing if you kill me. You’ll go to prison. Madeline will be on her own. Put the gun down.”

  My eyes grew wide.

  I rushed through the hall and leaned over the banister, peering down at my mother who was holding a black pistol in her shaky hands. Her shirt was ripped by the collar, and her hair looked as if it had been pulled. Her jeans were undone at the top. My father prowled the room in a predatory way, which made sense because that was exactly what he was: a predator. Someone who stood by and waited until prey walked by and then destroyed them over and over again. And I hated to say it, but my mother was the worst kind of prey—walking into the trap time and time again.

  I crept down the stairs slowly on my tiptoes. I wasn’t sure what possessed me other than the fact that something had to give. We were in a never-ending, fucked-up cycle of fear, hurt, and betrayal. It was time my father faced the truth, and what better person to spit it out than his ruined princess.

  My mom caught my eye first, and she shook her head, her mouth set in a firm line. My father was too busy staring at the gun in her hands, trying to find a way to put her down before she put him down. His hands were in fists by his sides, his broad shoulders wide as he paced.

  “I’ll kill you before you kill me,” he seethed, taking a step toward her.

  I saw the flicker of fear on her face, that small show that she wasn’t as confident as she wanted to be.

  As soon as I said, “Dad,” he jumped on her, and they both fell to the ground. I screamed, my hand rushing to cover my mouth as my mom tumbled to the floor, hitting her head on the table. Blood instantly seeped out from the wound, but she didn’t give up. She withered underneath him as he laid on top of her, reaching for the gun.

  My father was much bigger than her; he would win in the end.

  Adrenaline flew through me, possessing me with the strength to run over to intervene, but my front door flung open, and Eric came rushing inside. His hair was messy, his face etched with worry. His shirt was bloody, and although his eye was bruised, he still appeared strong and ready.

  “Who the fuck are you?” My father stood up as he snatched the gun away from my mom at the last second. No! She whimpered, holding her head while in the fetal position on the floor behind him. I think she was in and out of consciousness, too weak to stay fully present but too strong to fully let go. The gun was directed at Eric, and I stood in between the two of them as a barrier. His arms flew up as he shifted his gaze from me to my father.

  “Put the gun down,” Eric said calmly.

  My father’s eyes were wild with his rising temper. “I asked who the fuck you are. Are you the one that raped my daughter? And fucked my wife, too?”

  Eric still stood with his hands up while taking baby steps toward me. “I said put the gun down, sir. I didn’t rape your daughter.”

  My heart was stuck in my throat. I stared at my father, focusing on how red his face was getting. “Daddy, stop.”

  He swung toward me, pointing the gun in my direction with his finger on the trigger. I yelped.

  “Did he fucking rape you?”

  “No!” I shouted, hearing car doors outside.

  “This is all your mother’s fault!” he yelled with more anger. The longer we stood in the room together, the angrier he got. Maybe he was embarrassed I was seeing him like this. Or maybe he was just so blinded by his own personal rage that he couldn’t make sense of what he was doing.

&nb
sp; The gun left me and was pointed at my mother. The way the nozzle pointed directly at her head was premeditated, and my father’s eyes lit up like he was the happiest, with every ounce of control. “You deserve to die,” he whispered as the door popped open. I didn’t get a chance to see who it was because, instead, I ran and dove in front of my mom, and then the gun went off.

  Turned out I was selfless, after all.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Eric

  “Madeline!” I yelled so loud my voice was hoarse. My heart flew out of my chest, and the pain was so severe that I looked down to see if I was the one who had gotten shot.

  “Eric!” My father came into view as I began running forward.

  Red. All I could see was red. Red blood coming from Madeline and her mother. Everything moved in slow motion. My father’s face waving back and forth in front of mine, him pushing me backwards with all his might, sweat falling over his forehead. My mom slid into view, already on her knees in front of Madeline, putting her hands on her stomach to stop the bleeding.

  Another gunshot sounded, and suddenly, the chaos was back. My mother screamed, dipping her head as she kept her hands steady on Madeline.

  Madeline’s father slowly fell to the ground, tumbling over like the twin towers, crumbling to his knees then hitting face first.

  “Madeline!” I screamed, gaining the ability to push past my father. I landed on my knees in a pool of blood.

  “Push down on her stomach, now. Keep the pressure.” My mom was trying to stay calm, but she was panicked. She checked Madeline’s mom’s breathing because, at some point, she had checked out.

  “Keep your eyes open, Madeline. Okay?” My mom was hovering over her face, smiling. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Madeline was shaking underneath me; her blouse was soaked with blood. My hand was wet and sticky.

  “Mom,” I managed to choke out, feeling my soul rip in two.

  “We gotta go to the hospital. We can’t wait for an ambulance. Pick her up, and you run to the car as fast as you can. Put your hand back on her belly the second you get inside. I’m right behind you.”

  I did exactly as she said, flying through the house past my father who was on the phone with 911.

  “Stay until the cops come,” my mom yelled back to my father.

  “Go!” he yelled.

  This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.

  “Eric, it hurts.” Madeline’s hand clenched onto my shirt, and I shushed her.

  “I know, baby. I know. Don’t talk. I’m right here.”

  My mom glanced back with blood all over her shirt and hands as she gripped the wheel. “Don’t let her close her eyes, Eric. It’s life or death.”

  An emptiness that I’d never experienced before clung to my bones like a deep cold as I pressed harder onto her stomach.

  I stared down at Madeline’s cold, clammy face. Her eyes were getting heavy, her breathing shallow. “Madeline,” I barked. “Look at me, baby.”

  Her eyes fluttered as if she were trying to focus. She finally locked eyes on me, and I pressed harder onto her stomach. Her hand gripped my shirt again, which was good. That meant she still had some strength.

  “Do you remember that time we watched a movie together through our bedroom windows?” I asked, trying so fucking hard to keep my composure.

  Madeline swallowed roughly, her pretty, pale face wincing.

  “We wrote notes back and forth and held them up during the commercials, commenting on everything we had watched so far.” Her belly tightened underneath me, and she began gasping. I will not fucking lose her.

  She was still staying locked on me, her hand still bundled in my shirt.

  “Once you’re better, we’re gonna watch it again. I can’t remember the name of it, but we’ll watch it again.”

  I glanced ahead, and we were pulling up to the hospital. My mom was flying through the emergency area, our flashers indicating that we were the emergency.

  “Brink.” Madeline’s voice sounded far away. Weak. Too weak. “It was Brink.”

  The car door opened, and I pushed us out, running after my mom who was already through the doors.

  Things happened quickly. Madeline was torn out of my arms and thrusted into a stretcher. Her head fell to the side, rolling slightly as her eyes began to close. Blood was everywhere. They’d ripped her blouse in two, the buttons popping all over the floor. My mom was pressing on her wound now, running with the on-duty nurses.

  “Gunshot to the abdomen. I haven’t looked too much, afraid she’d bleed out, but I’m thinking pneumothorax. She’ll need a thoracotomy with a chest tube placement.”

  Then, they all disappeared behind the swinging doors, and I stood there, all alone, with Madeline’s blood all over my hands.

  “Eric!” Ollie and Christian came into view as I stood against a wall in the emergency area. A few nurses had recognized me as Heather’s son, and soon, word got around about what had happened. They offered to help me clean up, giving encouraging words about Madeline. Heather is the best trauma nurse we have. Everything will be okay. Do you need anything?

  What I fucking needed was to know what was going on.

  “Dude, are you okay?” Ollie gripped the sides of my face, pulling my chin up to meet his gaze. “We followed you home. There are cops and ambulances everywhere. Your dad told us to come here to check on you. He said he’ll be here soon.”

  I shook my head back and forth slowly. I was in a daze, like I was high but not the good kind of high. This was the kind of high that made you paranoid but also frozen in time.

  “Eric,” Christian came into view. “Talk to us. Is Madeline okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered, my bloody hands hanging down by my side. I wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since they took her from my arms.

  “Talk to us,” Ollie urged. “What can we do?”

  I shook my head again. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Eric,” Christian’s voice deepened. “What happened?”

  I blinked once, trying to focus on anything other than my bloody hands. “Her father shot her.”

  “What?” Ollie yelled.

  Even though my hands were dirty, I still brought them up and ran them through my hair, pulling on the ends. “He went to shoot her mom, but Madeline blocked her.” I looked them both in the face. “He was abusive. Had been for a very long time. Whenever he’d come home, he’d hit Madeline’s mom for stupid shit. But…” I could barely get the words out. This was partly my fault, and it was difficult to accept. “When everything at school went down, Headmaster Walton had called Madeline’s dad and told him what was going on with Madeline. He must have shown up at their house, ready to fight, because when I walked in, Madeline’s mom was already bleeding. There was broken glass on the floor, and Madeline was scared to fucking death. There was a gun. It happened so fast. She was too quick.” Something tore inside my chest, and I quickly turned around and punched the wall behind me, my knuckles crumbling in agony.

  I didn’t care, though. Not a single bit.

  Pure anguish went through me. It was maddening. I was lost. There was something tormenting about wanting to fix something that was completely out of your hands.

  Arms wrapped around me; I wasn’t sure whose until Christian said, “Your knuckles have had enough, Eric.”

  “If she fucking dies, Christian,” I bit out, resting my head against the cool wall with his arms still around me. “I will never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. I should have protected her better.”

  “She’s not going to die, Eric. It’s fucking Madeline. She’s too much of a fighter to die.”

  I fucking hoped so.

  “Your dad is here,” Ollie said.

  Christian’s arms dropped, and the moment I swung around, my father’s frantic eyes found me, and he rushed forward. I stood back, unable to do anything but just keep myself standing. I wanted to fall onto the ground.

  “Eric.
” His hands went around my biceps, and he squeezed hard. His eyes watered as he cupped the back of my head and brought it toward him in a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

  A soul-wrenching sob clawed out of my chest and ripped through the room like an earthquake. My father’s hand tightened on my head as he kept my face down. Fuck.

  “I’m here, son. It’s okay.”

  It was funny how something so pressing in my life didn’t seem all that big anymore. My hatred for my father was overshadowed by the fact that Madeline’s life was hanging in the balance because of a mistake I made.

  “What if she dies?” I asked, pulling myself back. I felt the moisture on my cheeks, but I made no move to wipe it.

  “She won’t.” He was confident with his answer.

  “How do you know?”

  He gave me a look. “Because your mother is the best goddamn nurse there is. She won’t let her die.”

  The sound of swinging doors tore us away from each other as my mom came tumbling out. She was still covered in blood, but she looked relieved to see us standing there. Her mask was pulled down as she gave me a sad smile. She wrapped her arms around me quickly before backing up and peering up into my face. “She’s okay.” She pushed my hair off my sweaty forehead. “The bullet missed the important stuff. Her lung did collapse, but we got the bullet out and fixed her up. She’s in the ICU for now, but I think she’s going to be okay, baby.”

  She was okay?

  “God,” I croaked, almost bending over to steady myself. “Are you sure?”

  Her hazel eyes shined. “I’m sure.” Then she looked over to my dad. “How is her mom?”

  “They brought her in shortly after the police showed up. She was incoherent. They think she has a concussion. I stayed and gave them a run-down of what happened.” He glanced away before shaking his head, coming to terms with something. He reached his hands out and pulled my mom into his chest, wrapping his arms around her small frame. His cheek rested over her hair, and he whispered, “I thought the second gunshot was headed for you.”

  “I did, too.”

  “Put things into perspective pretty fast for me.”