N K Smith - [Old Wounds 03]

by Weight of the World (epub)

  I felt like I couldn’t breathe, even though I was sucking in enough air to supply oxygen to an entire team of scuba divers. “Y-y-y-y-yesssssss, sssssir.”

  I’d never seen him so angry. I knew that he had a reason to be upset with me. I knew that I shouldn’t have unbuckled the restraints. Deep down, I knew that he, no matter how angry he was, would never hurt me as a punishment, but I couldn’t make myself believe it. His anger made me anxious and afraid. I felt like I was close to passing out.

  He turned on his heel and headed to the nurses’ station. I looked at Robin, my vision blurred by tears. Her hand moved out to touch my arm, but I flinched back. It was probably meant to be soothing, to help me calm down, but all it did was make me panic just a little bit more.

  I backed up until I felt the wall behind me.

  “SSSStephen’s m-m-mmm-mmmmmad.”

  “Yes. It’s a consequence of a bad decision.”

  “I-I-I-I’m sss-sssssssorry.”

  She smiled gently at me. “I know.”

  My legs started to shake, I felt my body go limp, and I slid down the wall until I was squatting.

  “It’ll be okay. Breathe deeply.”

  I tried to do what she asked, but all I could manage were shallow gasps of breath. I couldn’t look up from the green-speckled white tile floor, but I knew that she had squatted down next to me. This time I let her hand run down my arm.

  “Try to relax.” Her hand moved to my hair and she just let it rest there. “Jane will be okay. Stephen will calm down. People make mistakes all the time. It’s natural.”

  I shook my head, but found that I breathed just a little easier. “I hhhhhurt J-Jaaane and hhhe hhhhhhhates m-m-mmme.”

  “Jane hurt herself and Stephen doesn’t hate you. He’s upset, yes, but he could never hate you. He chose you, Elliott. He didn’t have to adopt you, but he did. How could he ever hate you?”

  I wanted to answer. I wanted to tell her about my wickedness that I knew he could see now.

  “He’s upset about the situation. He’s upset about your decision, but he’s not upset with you.”

  I shook my head, but stayed silent.

  After all, she’d been known to lie.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I didn’t verbally respond to Sophie’s question. I closed my eyes. We were lying on my bed, facing each other and one of her hands was buried in my hair as my hand rested lightly on her hip. I was tired from my small panic attack at the hospital and didn’t want to tell her how badly I’d messed up with Jane.

  This entire weekend was a showcase for my failure.

  Her fingers tickled my scalp and I let my eyes flutter open. Hers were locked on mine and while they heated my cold body, I was frightened that Sophie could also see the wickedness at my core. I closed them again and buried my head deeper into the pillow.

  “Why aren’t you talking?”

  I was so tired, but I was still thankful for the comfort she provided me. I wished my mind would rest. I wished the words I had learned a long time ago could give me peace.

  Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.

  Again, her fingers moved in my hair and my eyes opened. Sophie was so beautiful.

  “Why are you so sad tonight?”

  After taking in a deep breath, I answered as simply as I could. “J-Jaaane is in the hhhhhospital.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh,” was right. I felt bad for not giving Sophie the entire story about how I had told Jane to shut up and was mean to her. Likewise, I wasn’t going to tell her how Stephen hated me now because I released Jane or how she was bloody because of what I did.

  Sophie sat up abruptly. It startled me and I reached for her. I was as content as I could have been just lying in my bed with her, and now she was moving away. I wondered if I had said something wrong and now she was leaving.

  I wanted to say her name and tell her not to go. I wanted to grab her and hold her and keep her here with me. My body and my mind functioned as well as my voice and mouth did because all I could do was lay there and watch her stand up.

  She was going to leave because somehow she guessed that I had been responsible for Jane’s most recent breakdown.

  But she didn’t leave. She grabbed my hand and tugged on it. My body complied with her silent request and I sat up. My hand fell to my lap as I watched her move to my iPod dock and scroll for a moment.

  She changed the music from what she had told me was “moody-emo-crying music” to a song I’d played for her a couple of days ago.

  She turned back and stood in front of me. Her breasts were now at eye-level, so I looked at my hands in my lap. My breath released when I felt her hands in my hair and mine found her hips. My head fell forward, my neck bent, and my head pressed against her soft stomach.

  “I like this song.” Her voice was all but a whisper.

  I wanted so badly to tell her that I loved her. I wanted her to know all the reasons why. I wanted her so badly in so many ways. I wanted to be so close that we were indistinguishable from each other. I wanted to finally claim her, to possess her, to absorb her very essence into me. I wanted to be contained within her.

  I stood up and kissed her with all the possessive passion I usually held inside of me, pressing her back into my bookshelves. Automatically, her hands moved to my shoulders and she used them for leverage. I lifted her up and her legs wrapped around my waist. Her body clutched mine.

  I buried my face in the crook of her neck. She smelled so wonderful.

  I felt like I could lose myself in her.

  Then I remembered something that caused my body to tense. Chris Anderson’s words filtered and corrupted my mind. He’d said that he wanted to have her against the wall. He had made it sound so … dirty. I didn’t want Sophie to feel like that.

  My hands moved from under her thighs up to her waist and I pulled away, forcing her legs to unwrap. When her feet were on the ground, I stepped back, but kept a hold of her waist.

  “No,” she whispered. There was strength in her voice as her arms reached out for me. She pulled me back close, her hands curled at the sides of my waist, and then she grabbed my shirt with her fists, pulling it taut against my back.

  “You can’t,” she started. “You can’t keep …”

  She licked her bottom lip and the urge to taste it again was too much. I leaned in and touched my tongue to it before bringing it between my lips. Her hands tightened as she pressed closer to me. The bookshelves couldn’t have been comfortable against her back, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  Her tongue entered my mouth, forcing me to release her lip and her hands loosened on my shirt. I felt them on my stomach, skin on skin. I pressed harder against her.

  Her hands trailed around my side and grazed over my scarred back.

  My body straightened. The instant response to her touch wrenched my mouth away from hers.

  “No,” she said again.

  I reached behind me and gently gripped her wrists, pulling her hands away from my back. I held them to my chest instead, trying to control my breathing. My eyes closed for a moment.

  I heard her sigh and it nearly killed me to think that yet again I was disappointing her. Slowly, my eyes opened. I backed up with measured steps, my hands still holding her wrists loosely.

  I tightened my hold, wanting to communicate to her that I wasn’t pulling away; I wanted her to come with me. She moved with me and we found the bed together. I kept telling myself that I could do this. I could push myself for her because she gave me so much.

  Lying on her back, Sophie’s eyes danced over my face as I lay next to her on my side wit
h my body propped up by my arm. I leaned down and kissed her, my hand resting on her bare stomach because her shirt had ridden up.

  As much as it terrified me that I would do something wrong, I kept kissing her. Sophie liked this type of contact and I wanted to show her that I wasn’t a defective boyfriend. I could give her what she needed.

  My fingers curled when hers moved to the back of my neck.

  I wanted all of her.

  I had touched her breasts before, but each time I had to work myself up to it, as if she’d decided that she didn’t want me to touch her like that.

  Slowly my hand covered her. I didn’t just want to do what we’d done before, so I removed it for just enough time to pull the cup of her bra down.

  I couldn’t suppress my groan as her tongue swept into my mouth and I felt her naked breast against my hand for the first time.

  After a moment, I moved my mouth to her neck. Her fingers tightened in my hair as her body writhed beneath me. “Baby,” she whispered, her back arching off the bed.

  I took a breath and pulled my mouth away. “D-d-don’t.”

  “Don’t? Don’t what?” she asked, sounding winded.

  “I-I-I d-don’t w-want you to c-call me that.”

  “Why?” Her hands cupped my face and she tried to pull me back down to her.

  “B-Because it means I’m in-n-nterchangable with evvvvveryone else.”

  “No!” Sophie sat up, forcing me back. “There is no one else, and you could never be interchangeable with anyone.”

  There was no more discussion as Sophie moved to me, pressing her lips and her body against mine once again. We were lying back in no time and after a while, I rolled onto my back, breaking all contact with her.

  She tried to move with me, but I said, “SSSSophie, ssssstop.”

  She flopped back down.

  I looked over at her. She was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, like mine. Her eyes were closed and her tongue swept back and forth against her lower lip. I could almost hear her heart thumping in her chest. She swallowed hard.

  “I swear to god, Elliott,” she said, her voice deep. “If girls had balls, mine would be blue.”

  I hated that I was going slower than she wanted, but I couldn’t help it. “I-I’m sss-ssssorry, SSSSophie.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, letting out a breath as she did, her hands moving to straighten out her shirt as she sat up.

  “N-n-no it’s n-n-not.”

  Finally, her eyes fixed on me. “If you don’t think it’s okay, why do we keep stopping? Guys aren’t usually the ones who want to stop.”

  Although I knew she didn’t intend to hurt my feelings, her words cut. I knew I wasn’t “normal” and I knew that probably every other guy would’ve had her every possible way by now.

  I knew she wanted sex. She wasn’t subtle about it.

  “I-I’m t-t-t-t …”

  She sat up and placed her hand on my chest. “Relax, baby.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I mean, Elliott.”

  I took a deep breath. “I-I’m t-t-trying.”

  She licked her lips and gave me a small smile while her hand found its way into my hair. “I know.”

  “Y-y-you know I w-want y-you, r-right?” Sophie sighed but nodded. “I-I jjjjust can’t … yet.”

  While her fingers continued to run through my hair she said, “But I don’t understand why. Will you help me understand?”

  I didn’t want to tell her. Even if I could find the words, I doubted whether I could say them. My mind was frozen and as she moved to sit atop my thighs, my body froze as well. Her hand moved to my belly, creeping up under my shirt.

  “I want to make you feel good.”

  Her wrist brushed against my groin and my breath caught. She acted like she hadn’t felt it, but I knew she had. There was no disguising what her body did to mine or how I reacted to her.

  She leaned closer, her forearm sliding against the head of my penis. My hands grabbed her hips. I couldn’t control my body, obviously. For a while all I could do was just hold her hips tightly, but then I found her wrists and yanked her hands away from me.

  I sat up, which forced her to move back a little, but I still had her wrists in my hands.

  “Ow!”

  Sophie pulled back, but my grip remained firm. “Fucking let go!” she said, tugging again.

  Seconds passed like hours until finally my fingers released her. She moved off of me and off the bed. My body was incredibly tight, but I managed to sit up. I hated that I had hurt her again. “SSSS-SSSSS-SSS …”

  “Jesus Christ, Elliott. Stop grabbing me like that.”

  My legs bounced, my shoulders quaked, and I couldn’t breathe. I felt my rigid body crumple in on itself. I felt dizzy as I struggled against the invisible vice clamping down around me.

  I lost track of everything in the room. I couldn’t hear anything other than the rush of my blood and the rasp of my breath. I was within my dark, little self-inflicted cave when I felt something on my shoulder. My body flinched and then relaxed.

  Hands were in my hair.

  I remembered that Jane was in the hospital and my mom was dead, so the hands had to belong to Sophie.

  I took a deep breath.

  The world lightened around me by just a fraction.

  I took another one.

  My fingers relaxed.

  One more and I could hear Sophie telling me to calm down before I passed out.

  Passing out would have been a blessing.

  Instead I was able to sit up and then I came face-to-face with Sophie, on her knees before me, worry etched on every inch of her face.

  It was only a matter of minutes before she rose up to her feet and moved away from me. I was much calmer now. I could breathe and my heart rate slowed to near-normal.

  “… to go …” I watched as Sophie continued to speak, but I could only hear a few random words. “… the bus …”

  Sophie was leaving. I didn’t want her to go. Without thinking, I reached out for her, but let my heavy hands fall to my lap when she backed up quickly. She didn’t want me to touch her and how could I expect her to? I had hurt her. I had grabbed her. I’d held her too tight.

  I had forced my will upon hers.

  I wanted to stop her. I wanted to use words and not force her physically, but I couldn’t do anything but watch her go.

  She hadn’t shut my door on the way out. She must have been really mad at me to leave it open like that. Sophie was always good about keeping my room private. I couldn’t even get up to close it.

  I kept going over the events of the past two days: my fight with Jane, my fight with Stephen, my fight with Sophie. I felt horrible. It was obvious that it was all me. I had failed all of them. I wasn’t a good friend to Jane. I was a disappointment of a son, adopted or not, to Stephen, and I was an awful boyfriend to Sophie.

  I could hear voices down the hall and as much as I wanted to get up and shut my door, I couldn’t. David and Stephen passed.

  David looked into my room and I hated how his eyes roamed over everything. I was grateful, however, that they didn’t stop or linger.

  I heard David’s voice. “What’s wrong with Elliott, Dad?”

  My jaw tightened and my teeth hurt with the pressure.

  Something was always wrong with Elliott. I wasn’t right. I was wrong. I was always wrong. My very existence was wrong.

  Suddenly I was incredibly angry. It wasn’t fair that I was wrong this way. It wasn’t fair to be born wicked. It wasn’t right that I couldn’t control any of it.

  I launched myself off the bed and my fists connected to the first thing they came in contact with.

  I was mad at my mother for not saving me. I was mad at my father for not being able to cure
me. I hated myself for my reactions. I hated Stephen and Robin for making me talk to Sophie. I was mad at Sophie for pushing me, always pushing! I was angry at myself for being unable to meet her expectations. I hated that I was an inept boyfriend and I hated her for being a needy girlfriend.

  I couldn’t give her what she needed and it was shoved in my face all the time.

  I didn’t know how long I hit whatever it was, but I know I only stopped because I heard Stephen say my name. There was pressure on my shoulder. I looked at it and saw a hand. My eyes followed the arm attached to it up to Stephen’s face.

  My fists stopped hitting and started pushing.

  Stephen promised that no one would be allowed into my room unless I was dying. I wasn’t dying and he was in my room.

  I desperately wanted to yell and scream at him. I wanted to verbally tell him to get out, but nothing came, just stunted, unrecognizable noises, so I pushed at him. I pushed him toward the door. He stumbled back, but then righted himself.

  “Dad?” The sound of David’s voice incited me even more. I looked up and he was standing right outside my door, his hand wrapped around the frame, his eyes wide.

  I pushed at Stephen again and managed to ground out, “Ggggggggget o-o-o-o-out!”

  Finally, with every bit of effort I had, I shoved him out of my room, not even giving him a chance to leave on his own. I slammed the door. I didn’t care if someone’s fingers or limbs were stuck and smashed by it.

  I needed the door closed.

  I needed it locked.

  I needed my room to be my own again.

  Finally I just sank down against it, looking from my battered hands to the remains of one of my guitars. Pieces were scattered all over the floor and atop the desk. The neck still hung on the wall, the strings hanging down like sad streams of tears.

  Outside I heard Stephen say, “He has to deal with things he’s never had to before. He’s never had to really face …”

  Their voices grew quiet as they moved away, but I stopped listening as well.

  I hadn’t bothered turning on my computer. I knew Sophie wouldn’t be online.