We can help Brie, and just maybe… Brie can help Mom.
God, I hope so.
I set the clothes down on the counter and turn to Brie, and instead of seeing a broken girl, I see hope.
Still smiling like an idiot, I say, “You can bathe or shower.” I glance around, then add, “Everything you’ll need should be here.”
My gaze falls on the towels. I haven’t changed them yet this week.
“Give me a second.” I dart out into the hallway and going to the linen closet, I grab fresh towels.
When I walk back into the bathroom, Brie hasn’t moved a muscle. I set the towels down next to the clothes and grab the dirty ones. “Just shout if you need anything.”
I walk to the door, and when I begin to pull it shut, Brie says, “I’ll be quick.”
I pause and smile at her. “No rush. Take your time.”
I’m sure she needs some alone time to process everything.
I walk back to the kitchen, and when I see Mom’s boiling water, another wave of relief washes over me.
“Is it really okay with you if she stays with us?” I ask while walking over to where Mom is.
“Of course. That’s not even a question. She can’t go back home,” Mom gasps. She puts spaghetti in the water and turns to me. “She can’t go to school either.”
“I know.” I draw my bottom lip between my teeth. “Will you be okay with her here during the day. I don’t want to fall behind with classes.”
Mom places her hand on my arm. “It will be nice to have someone here.”
Just then, Brie peeks around the corner of the hallway, and I walk closer, asking, “Do you need something?”
She shakes her head and steps forward. It hasn’t even been five minutes, but she’s dressed in clean clothes. The sweatpants are a bit long, so Brie rolled them up.
“Are you done already?” I ask.
Brie nods, and her eyes dart to where Mom is.
Shit. I should’ve realized it earlier.
Where I’m cautious around men because my father was the abuser, Brie’s scared of women because her mother’s been hurting her. She first has to get used to being around my mother if I’m going to leave the two of them alone tomorrow.
I gesture to the stool at the kitchen table. “Do you want to sit down?”
Brie gives me an unsure look, so I take her hand and pull her into the kitchen. I sit down first, then nudge the stool next to me closer to her. Brie keeps glancing at Mom as she cautiously takes a seat.
“The food will take a couple of minutes,” Mom says. Walking over to the fridge, she opens it, asking, “Can I pour you something to drink, Brie? We have lemonade, orange juice, and coke.”
Brie stares at Mom as if she just grew a pair of horns.
I place a hand on her back and lean forward. “What do you like to drink?”
She looks like a deer caught in headlights, but then she stammers, “C-coke.” She swallows hard, then adds, “Please.”
“I’ll have some as well,” I say. “Thanks, Mom.”
Mom pours two glasses then places them in front of us. There’s a confused expression on Brie’s face.
Just from how she reacts to everything, it’s obvious Brie’s had it much worse than me.
I stare at the girl next to me, realizing she’s not as weak as I thought.
“Is it just you and your mom?” I ask, wanting to know more about her life so I can help her better.
Brie nods. She hesitates for a moment but then reaches for the glass. This time I wait until she sets it down before I ask, “Has it always been like this?”
Her eyes dart to mine, and I watch the emotions ripple over her face. Fear, despair, and then the look she always has. I thought it was anxiety, but I now know it’s from years of neglect.
Has this girl ever known any kind of love?
When Brie nods, I get all my answers, and it cracks my heart wide open. Not able to hold back, I get up and hug her again while empathy and anger mix in my chest.
How can someone do this to another human?
You know how. You’ve had a monster for a father.
But damn, at least I was loved by Mom and Brady, and I have never been bullied at school.
Brie has nowhere she feels safe.
Pulling away, I sit back down and ask, “Has no one tried to help?” Anger for everything she’s been put through starts to burn through my veins.
“I called the police once,” Brie answers, much to my surprise.
“What happened?” Mom asks, and it’s only then I notice she’s sitting on the other side of the table listening to our conversation.
“My mom told them I fell off a bike and was looking for attention.”
When Brie doesn’t continue, I ask, “And?”
Brie shrugs. “They scolded me and said if I ever made a call like that again, they’d arrest me.”
“Mother of God,” Mom gasps. “How old were you?”
Brie thinks for a moment, and a frown forms on her forehead. “Six or seven.”
Holy shit.
Both Mom and I can only stare until Brie shifts uncomfortably in her chair.
“And school? Did no one ever notice anything?” I ask, even though I know most teachers look the other way or believe the lie you tell them.
“They just think I’m clumsy,” Brie whispers.
I glance at Mom and see the tears shining in her eyes, and I know she remembers all the lies we told to keep our filthy secret. Mom catches me looking at her, and she quickly gets up to continue with the food.
I turn my attention back to Brie, and placing a hand on her shoulder, I say, “You have us now.”
The saddest expression I’ve ever seen settles on her face as she slowly lifts her eyes to mine.
She’s too scared to even hope.
I lean forward and move my hand to the back of her neck. My voice is filled with determination as I promise, “You have me now, Brie. I’ll fight with you.”
Chapter 9
BRIE
Mrs. Lawson places a pillow and blanket down on the couch, then turns to where I’m standing, and says, “Are you sure the couch is okay? There is a guest bedroom you can use.”
I nod, wanting to be close to the front door. It makes me feel safer.
She glances at Colton, then smiles. “Call me if you need anything. Good night.”
“Night,” I mumble, my eyes following her until she disappears up the stairs.
“I’ll be right back,” Colton says.
I glance over my shoulder at the kitchen. There are dishes piled in the sink, and it makes my chest fill with apprehension. Mrs. Lawson said to leave it after cleaning up the mess I made when I dropped the glass.
My mother would kill me if the kitchen looked so untidy.
Colton comes back down the stairs carrying a pillow and blanket, and a frown begins to form on my forehead.
He sets it down on the other couch, then looks at me. “Want to watch some TV before we sleep?”
My lips part with surprise, and unconsciously wringing my hands, I ask, “Are you going to sleep down here, as well?”
“Yeah.” He pauses for a moment, then asks, “Are you okay with it?”
It’s not like I have a choice, so I nod.
“Are you going to sit down?”
“Y-yeah.” I swallow hard on the anxious knot in my throat and inching closer to the couch, I gingerly sit down on the edge of the cushion.
I know Colton said I’m safe here and that he’s going to help me, but… it’s hard to trust.
Colton lies down on the other couch, and taking the remote from the coffee table, he switches on the TV. “What do you want to watch?”
When I take too long to answer, he turns his head to me. My eyes dart between his and the TV before I admit, “I don’t usually watch TV.”
His eyebrows lift. “We can sleep if you don’t want to watch anything.”
“No,” the word burst from me. “I want to. I
t’s just…” I feel super self-conscious when I continue, “I’m not allowed to watch TV at home. You can put anything on.”
Colton signs into Netflix, and my eyes flit over all the shows I always hear the other students talk about at school.
He keeps scrolling then asks, “How do you feel about a documentary on the cutest animals? I think it will be relaxing.”
“Okay.”
The show starts, and my eyes are glued to the TV screen for a long while before they drift to where Colton lies on the other couch. He looks relaxed, and it makes me scoot back into a more comfortable position.
By the time an hour has passed, I feel it’s safe enough to lie down on my side. For a couple of minutes, my eyes dart between Colton and the TV, and when he doesn’t move or even glance my way, I relax into the cushion beneath me.
Everything at Colton’s house is in total contrast with my own home. No one yells, and I haven’t been snapped at once.
They’re so nice.
The last animal I remember seeing is a baby goat, and then I drift off to sleep.
COLTON
When credits begin to roll over the screen, I dare a glance in Brie’s direction.
Seeing she’s asleep, a smile spreads over my face. I switch off the TV and decide to leave the kitchen light on for Brie. Turning onto my side, my eyes stay glued to her.
All the frustration I felt earlier because Brie wouldn’t stand up for herself is gone. In its place is an overwhelming need to keep her safe.
My thoughts turn to my mother and how different she was tonight. It’s as if Brie drew her out of the depression.
I know Mom said it’s okay for Brie to stay here, but I’ll have to talk to her about it because there’s no way Brie can go back to her mother.
I’ll go with Brie to get her stuff so her mother can’t do anything. She can move into the guest room.
I begin to drift off when Brie begins to move restlessly, and I hear her desperately mumble, “No… Stop.”
I’m up in an instant, and darting to the other couch, I sit down next to her. I place my hand on her shoulder. “Brie, wake up.”
She’s trembling like a leaf in a shit storm, gasping, “Sto-op.”
I shake her. “Brie.”
Her eyes fly open, and she darts up, her chest slamming into mine. I quickly move an arm around her. Her breaths explode in my ear, and then she wraps her arms around my neck. The way she holds onto me makes a foreign sensation spread through me.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
She nods, and I feel her ear brush against mine.
I want to comfort her so desperately, it has me asking, “Want me to lie with you for a little bit?”
She hesitates for a moment but then scoots over to make space for me. Keeping my arm around her shoulders, I pull her tightly into my side as I lie down. I bring my other hand to her cheek and lowering my head, I press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Things will get better.”
Brie curls up against me, resting her cheek on my chest.
Wanting to distract her, I ask, “What’s your favorite color?”
“All of them,” she whispers. “Yours?”
“Blue.” I hope she won’t take it the wrong way as I add, “Like your eyes. They remind me of the ocean.” A couple of seconds pass, then I ask, “Have you thought about what you want to do once we graduate?”
“I’d like to attend art school.”
“Yeah?” My thumb lightly brushes over her jaw, and I take in how soft her skin is. “You’re really good at drawing.”
There’s a moment’s silence, then Brie asks, “And you?”
“I’m going to work.”
I feel the tension begin to ease out of her as she whispers, “What kind of work?”
“Anything,” I answer. “I’m not picky.”
“Don’t you want to study further?” I take it as a good sign that she’s asking questions.
“Nah, I want to be able to look after my mother.”
And you, if you come to live with us.
“Why do you have so many piercings?”
The question catches me by surprise, and the corner of my mouth lifts. “It keeps people at a distance.”
“I should get a bunch too,” she mumbles.
A comfortable silence falls around us, and I begin to grow sleepy again when Brie murmurs, “Why are you so nice to me?”
I knew she’d ask that at some point. “I’ve been through something similar.”
Brie moves a little back, and her eyes drift over my face. “But how? You’re strong and never let Michael or Sully bully you.”
I keep my eyes locked on hers as I admit, “My father was stronger.”
Brie stares at me, then she asks, “Where is he now?”
“In California. We left after –” The words cut off, and sucking in a deep breath of air against the grief, I glance around the living room. “Brady, my brother, committed suicide because he couldn’t take it anymore.”
Brie nods, too much understanding on her face, and instead of it offering me any comfort, it makes my insides knot up with worry.
“Suicide is never the answer,” I say, my voice sounding harsher than I mean for it to be. “There’s always something to live for.”
“Like?” The word is so soft I almost think it was my imagination.
“Brady had me. He had my mother and a girlfriend. We all loved him, and I did my best to take the brunt of our father’s rages. He had a lot to live for.”
Brie rests her head on my shoulder again, and after a while, she whispers, “What if you don’t have anyone?”
I know she’s referring to herself. “But you do.” I tighten my arm around her shoulders and press another kiss to the top of her head. “You have me.”
Her voice quivers with emotion as she asks, “Are we friends now?”
The answer comes easily. “Definitely.”
Brie stirs slightly, and I notice her hand is fisted as it lies in the middle of my chest. I move mine from her cheek and slowly begin to pry her fingers open until I can press her palm flat over my shirt.
Still worried about leaving her alone with Mom, I ask, “Will you be okay to stay with my mom tomorrow while I go to school?”
Apprehension tightens her voice, “I have to go home.”
“You don’t,” I argue. “You can stay with us.”
Brie shakes her head. “It won’t be right, and my mom will get angry.”
I shift my hand to her chin and nudge her face up. When our eyes meet, I say, “She can’t hurt you if you’re here.”
With the light shining in from the kitchen, I see the concern on Brie’s face.
She doesn’t trust me yet.
“We can take it a day at a time. Get to know us, and once you trust us, you can decide if you want to move in,” I offer an alternative that won’t be as daunting as immediately moving in.
I can see she’s thinking about what I just said, and then she nods. “Okay.”
Worried for her safety, I say, “Can you wait until after school tomorrow so I can go with you to your house. Maybe if your mom sees you have someone who cares, she’ll be careful.”
Brie stares at me as if I just said the unthinkable, and then the corner of her mouth lifts slightly. “You care?” Her eyes begin to shine, and she sucks in a shaky breath. “About me?”
“Yeah.” My answer makes a tear spiral over her cheek, and using my thumb, I wipe it away. “Can I ask you a question?”
She sniffs then nods.
“Has anyone ever cared about you?”
A neglected expression shadows her face, and I can see she’s struggling not to cry, then she whispers, “No.” She swallows hard on the emotion, then admits, “You’re the first person to hug me.”
My God, it’s so much worse than I thought.
The saddest emotions well in my chest, and turning my body toward her, I wrap both my arms tightly around her. I hug her as hard as I can without hurting h
er.
I feel a tremble ripple through her body and wish I could tuck her inside my heart where no one would be able to hurt her again.
Chapter 10
BRIE
Waking up, my head instantly clears of sleep when I feel Colton’s chest rise and fall beneath my cheek and hand.
Memories of last night rush through me. It was both the worst and best night of my life, and the combination leaves me feeling over-emotional.
The ordeal with my mom was nothing short of horrifying, but… afterward, being with Colton… was wonderful. It still is.
Colton said he cares about me.
The memory makes a weird sensation flood my chest. It’s something akin to finally finding a place where I belong. Not being alone anymore. It’s an overwhelming feeling.
He’s been so nice to me, and now that I’ve had a taste of safety, I really don’t want to go back home. Or to school. I want to stay right here.
I start to smell something delicious, and pushing myself up, I peek over the couch. Seeing Mrs. Lawson in the kitchen, my eyes widen, and I pat Colton frantically on his chest.
He lets out a groan, and when his eyes open, I whisper anxiously, “Your mom’s in the kitchen.”
Embarrassed that she must’ve seen us lying together burns through me. I scramble over Colton only to drop to the floor. Pushing up on my hands and knees, my wide eyes land on Colton’s grinning face.
“It’s okay,” he chuckles, still half asleep.
I sit back in a kneeling position, not able to stop staring at Colton because he looks different first thing in the morning. There’s a shadow forming on his jaw. My eyes drift over his face, and I realize he no longer looks dangerous, but instead…
Oh crap.
My hand flies to my heart that’s starting to thump faster against my ribs, and I nervously wet my lips.
Climbing to my feet, my gaze darts over the living room, looking everywhere but at Colton.
“Oh good, you’re up,” Mrs. Lawson says from the kitchen. “I made a fresh pot of coffee.”
It feels like my face is going up in flames as I mumble, “I need the restroom.” I only realize what I just said once the words are out, which makes me blush even more.
Not My Hero: Black Mountain Academy Page 7