N K Smith - [Old Wounds 03]

by Weight of the World (epub)

  I loved that he felt comfortable enough to press his chest against my back.

  I smiled as he slid his face next to mine and rested his chin on my shoulder. He hadn’t shaved and the sensation of the scruff against my smooth skin sent shivers through me.

  My feelings for Elliott were confusing. I’d never really loved anything before. It was frightening and new. I worried about what it meant and what kind of power that gave him.

  His arms moved and encompassed my waist. He drew me back against him and my eyes fell closed.

  While some things were confusing, the sensations he created in my body were easy to understand. Every single cell, every single molecule of my being called out for him in a way that I couldn’t ignore.

  My fantasies about him were usually very pure and mostly about simple pleasures like lips on necks and hands trailing down arms, but then there were the sexy ones.

  His breath in my ear made my knees threaten to give out. His hands moved, one down and one up; his right covered my left breast as his left trailed down below my navel. Though I was clothed, it felt like skin-on-skin contact.

  When his hand cupped me between my legs, I stiffened because it was such a bold move for him. It usually took Elliott a solid fifteen minutes of messing around before he could touch me there and even then, he didn’t do it often.

  I tried to regain my comfort. This was what I wanted from him, to share this type of physical intimacy.

  My body was tight and on edge. It felt as though I had goose-pimples.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you love me, dirty girl?”

  My breath caught.

  My eyes flew open.

  I sat up straight in my bed.

  Glancing around quickly, it took my tired mind a moment before it realized that it was only half past three in the morning and I wasn’t cooking brussels sprouts. I wasn’t in the kitchen and Elliott wasn’t calling me a dirty girl.

  It was a dream.

  A motherfucking dream.

  I reminded myself why I didn’t sleep at night. It was so much better to wait until there was noise to keep me from going into a deep slumber. It was so much better to wait until I was around Elliott.

  I shivered, even though I was wrapped in heavy blankets.

  It was just a dream.

  And that wasn’t Elliott.

  “Damn,” I said through chattering teeth. “This is cold.”

  “Thisssss w-w-w-was your idea,” Elliott shot back with a smile on his face.

  “Keep me warm.” I moved into his arms and looked out at the silent playground. We were sitting at the very top of a fort made of recycled plastic. To my left was a big steering wheel and to my right a fireman’s pole.

  Elliott’s hold tightened around me.

  “This is better than Tom’s house or yours, even if it’s flippin’ freezing.”

  Just a little snow remained in patches on the ground, and the cold winter breeze made the kiddie swings sway back and forth. Despite Elliott’s assertion that Dr. Dalton hated him, he’d been allowed to leave his house with me. He just had to promise not to leave the town.

  We weren’t breaking any rules since we were at the farthest point of the town limits. There just happened to be a playground here. I made him stop the car immediately. The original plan had been to just drive around, but I loved playgrounds.

  When I had needed to get out of Helen’s house, I would walk down to the park and watch the little kids play. I imagined that I was one of them and their parents were my own. Some days I would sit there in the hot Tampa sun all day until it set and I had to go back and face the reality that those perfect parents with their smiles and hugs didn’t belong to me.

  Apart from that, when I was younger I loved playing on the equipment. I didn’t like the teeter-totter since that required someone else. I loved the monkey bars and used to push all the other little girls with their cute pigtails to the ground. Bitches crowded the one thing I liked doing and that was to swing upside down. I used to love looking at the world like that.

  “Did you get to play at the playground when you were little?” For some people that might have been a dumb question, but with Elliott and his strict father, it was logical to ask.

  “N-no.”

  I turned in his hold and was glad to see his face, even if it wasn’t a happy expression he wore. “Not even at recess?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “What did you do at recess then?”

  Elliott sniffed, his red nose scrunching up. “I sssssat by the fffffence and w-waited to g-g-go back in.”

  “Why?”

  “The other k-k-k-kids w-w-wouldn’t p-p-play with us.”

  By “us,” I assumed he meant him and his brother, but I knew Elliott didn’t like talking about him, so I didn’t ask. I still didn’t even know his name.

  “Why? Because of your stutter?” Did other kids really care that much about how he spoke? “Did your dad …”

  “They thought w-we w-w-were wwwwweird. They w-were right. W-we d-d-didn’t have nnnnice c-c-clothes and w-we nnnnnever p-p-par-t-ticipated in the p-parties they hhhhad at school.”

  It was either the cold or the subject matter that had him stammering as bad as when we first met. I had to focus to understand him. “Like for Valentine’s Day and Halloween?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you didn’t have any friends?”

  He shook his head and I turned around and faced forward. “Weren’t you lonely?”

  “Yes.”

  I was a lonely child, too. Nothing alienated a little kid more than having a secret that people would freak out over. There were children at school I played with until I was eleven, but after that it was just easier not to associate. I became resentful of those girls who didn’t go home and get knocked into walls or woken up by men in the middle of the night.

  I thought about the picture of Elliott and his family, and wished that he’d had friends. I thought that having a brother would have been like having a friend, but it didn’t seem that way for him. Despite his reaction the last time I asked him about it, I couldn’t help but voice the question bouncing around in my head.

  “What’s your brother’s name?”

  Even through our heavy coats, I felt his body tense. I hoped he wouldn’t react badly. I wasn’t asking for details … yet. I just wanted to know his name.

  “J-J-J-JJJJJJJJJoseph.”

  Elliott was my boyfriend and I’d pretty much revealed everything there was to know about me, but he kept certain things locked up inside of him. It wasn’t that I thought because I chose to share that he should, too, but I desperately wanted to get to the bottom of who he really was.

  His voice had been locked most of his life, not by choice, but by his body’s failure to function like everyone else’s. It seemed as though now that he had someone like me to talk to, it would be a shame for him not to unlock the things that haunted him. I hoped that he felt comfortable enough talking to me. I hoped he knew that I wouldn’t make fun of his stutter or of anything he verbalized.

  I hoped he knew that I was in his life by choice now, not because some therapist paired us up for therapy.

  “Why won’t you talk about him?”

  Elliott didn’t answer, but I couldn’t feel him panicking either. Maybe he was lost in thought. If I turned around, I’d be able to tell, but I felt as though he needed the mental space and my eyes on him wouldn’t help whatever process he was going through.

  When silence continued to loom, I tried to draw him back to me, hoping he wasn’t stuck somewhere inside of his head. “Elliott?”

  “I-I-I d-d-don’t w-w-want to t-t-t-t-talk ab-bout him.”

  That was annoying. I fought against my anger because Elliott didn’t have to talk about anything to
me and it hadn’t been our intention to come out here and talk about the shit that weighed us down. We had just wanted to have a bit of fun away from everyone else. Just a little time to be free.

  I guess if I was being honest, Elliott’s refusal to let me in on this subject did kind of piss me off because our whole relationship was based on him pushing me to give him answers he had no real right to know, and I would give them. I never pushed. Even now I was asking, not pushing and I would let it go.

  But it wasn’t fair.

  I was going to keep asking questions that made him at least slightly uncomfortable until he gave me something. “Is your dad dead?”

  I don’t know why I asked that particular question. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

  “N-no.” He took a breath. “At llllleast n-not that I kn-know of. I w-w-would think SSSSStephen wwwwould t-tell me i-i-i-if my fffffffather d-died.”

  “Do you want him to be dead? Because I want him to be dead.”

  “It w-wouldn’t change who he www-was and w-w-what he did.”

  Again, silence hung over us. I was content because he’d answered me. He wasn’t avoiding everything. At least I knew his brother’s name now, so maybe he’d say more in the future.

  “Want to go swing?”

  “I-i-it’s really c-c-cold, Sophie.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not making you go down that cold-ass metal slide then, Elliott.”

  “And then she said that I hadn’t really made any progress because instead of throwing up five hundred calories, I got on the elliptical and burned nine hundred,” Andrea whined before bringing the water cupped in her hands to her mouth.

  She’d just finished throwing up her lunch and brushing her teeth. I was trying to be a better friend, but unfortunately that meant listening to her gag herself until she puked. Andrea looked bad. Her skin was sort of gray and her hair was looking dry and falling out.

  Something in my gut told me that she would be getting sick, like really sick, very soon. As much as I thought people should be able to do whatever they wanted to themselves, I didn’t want her to get herself into the hospital or worse. Andrea was on the edge of becoming not only a figurative skeleton, but an actual one.

  “I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do?” she asked after she spit into the sink.

  “Eat something and let your body metabolize it.”

  She looked at me through the mirror, her eyes narrowed. When she turned around to face me, her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked betrayed and pissed. “Don’t be on her side.”

  I rolled my eyes and shifted my back pack. “I’m not on Wallace’s side. I’m on your side and you look … bad.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked at herself in the mirror, turning to the side, her hands smoothing down her body.

  “You don’t look fat,” I clarified. “You look sick.”

  “There’s not much you can say since you’re what? Ninety-five pounds yourself?”

  I sighed. She had a point. “That’s different. My stomach’s been wonky.”

  She was quiet before picking up her messenger bag and straightening out her shirt, pulling it down over her hips as far as it would go. “Andy thinks I’m too skinny. Do you think I’m too skinny?”

  What the hell? Were we not just having this exact conversation? Had she not just gotten pissy with me because I said she didn’t look healthy? “Yes.”

  “Oh my God! Did you hear?”

  Obviously she was changing the subject and honestly, I was thankful. “Hear what?”

  “The Andersons are sending Chris to private school in Baltimore.”

  My heart tightened a little at his name. “What?”

  “Yeah, I guess after Christmas break or whatever. They don’t want little Christopher to keep getting picked on. Isn’t that just hilarious?”

  I fought back thoughts about Cierra’s bathroom and the feel of Chris on top of me. My stomach flipped as his words of “I told you,” echoed through my mind. “Hilarious,” I repeated, my voice lifeless.

  “He’s made everyone feel like crap since the second grade and now he runs home and cries because karma kicked him in the junk.”

  My eyes were focus on the tiled floor.

  “You must have been totally wasted to have sex with him at that party.”

  Bile rose into my esophagus and I dropped my bag and practically sprinted into the stall Andrea had just emerged from moments ago.

  When I was finished, Andrea eyed me cautiously. “Now who looks sick?”

  I rinsed my mouth out. Being a friend was ridiculous. People were idiots with their defense mechanisms. I had been trying to help Andrea and now she was giving me shit because she thought I was messing with her method of control.

  I stood up straight and glared at her. “Did you ever even ask if I fucked Chris Anderson?”

  I had no honest idea what really happened that night, but my gut feeling was that drunk or not, I would have never screwed him by choice. Not only did I not find him attractive, but he was a dick to everyone, and Elliott in particular. I would have never been interested, especially considering my feelings for the boy he loved to pick on. It pissed me off that people thought I’d had sex with him simply because he said I did. It was just like with Aiden.

  I knew I wasn’t chaste or virginal. The whole school knew that. It was my own fault and in the past, I never cared what anyone thought, but this felt different. I didn’t think I would’ve done that with him.

  The thought made me want to vomit again.

  I left the bathroom as quickly as possible and found Elliott waiting for me in the hall. He gave me his small smile, but it faded. He knew something wasn’t right.

  I pressed my head against his chest and his arms moved to encompass my body. “I want to get high.”

  I didn’t look at him when I pulled away, but grabbed his hand. “Can we skip? I don’t want to go to class.”

  We went back to his house where he played the piano for me until I fell into a light sleep. He always knew what I needed.

  “Sophia.”

  My feet halted halfway up the stairs. I turned around and found Tom looking up at me.

  “What?”

  “We need to talk.”

  My heart started beating hard and fast and I instantly felt like I was in trouble. Like I was back in Tampa and Helen was on one of her rampages.

  I swallowed hard and glanced up the stairs to my room. “Um, I have … homework.”

  “It can wait. Robin said I was supposed to talk to you as soon as I saw you.”

  My shoulders slumped. If he was taking direction from Wallace, it must be something bad. Slowly, I moved back down to the first floor and followed him to the kitchen. He motioned to the table and I took a seat. I was uncomfortable. I felt ill.

  “We have to talk about school.” He took a seat across from me.

  My hands folded together tightly in my lap and my brow creased. “What about school?” I asked when I found my voice.

  “I had to speak to the counselor and the principal today. They gave me your report card.” Tom paused and slid a piece of paper toward me. I couldn’t help but lean away from his hand.

  When my grades were in front of me, I cringed. I knew that I wasn’t doing as well as I normally did, but I had no idea that I was nearly failing most of my classes and outright failing two.

  “Your teachers say you sleep all day.”

  I pushed the paper away. “So?”

  Tom gave me a hard look and I wished I could’ve just told him I was sorry, and that I knew I was screwing up, but the words wouldn’t come and I was stuck feigning annoyed anger.

  “You’re going to fail your junior year if you keep this up. I’m sure you don’t want to repeat the grade and I sure as hel
l don’t want to tell that judge--”

  “You can tell the judge to go screw himself. I don’t need--”

  “Sophia Catherine Young!”

  My mouth snapped closed and a shiver ran through me.

  “Your grades are unacceptable. I know you think that everything’s a big joke but it’s not. That judge can take you away in a second. You could be sent to a ‘special school,’ whatever the hell that is!”

  The threat of being taken away from here, from Tom’s house, from Elliott, and from the only sense of safety I’d ever felt in my entire life caused a stirring within me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My stomach churned as I thought of going to live with girls who were screwed up like I was. I didn’t want that. I wanted to stay here and be with Elliott.

  “I know things are … difficult, Bunny, but …”

  I stiffened. “Why’d you call me that?”

  He blinked. “Your grandma used to call you that all the time, but when I would say it,” his mouth slid into a smile, “you used to giggle.”

  I looked at the table and then out of the window. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t think you remember a lot of things.”

  I looked up. “Like what?”

  “We used to have fun when you came to visit, you know? When you were real little, we’d play Hide and Seek and you’d make me chase you around the yard for hours. Then when you were nine or ten and too old for all that, we’d go to D.C. and spend all day looking at the monuments and buying books.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  Again, he sighed. “You have to get your grades up, okay? I know you can’t … change what you’re going through and I’m not much help either, but we have to figure this out. I don’t think I could stand to see you go away again.”

  The reminder that I could be taken from here caused my eyes to tear up. “I can’t sleep at night,” I whispered.

  “And when you do, you wake up screaming, I know. This isn’t your fault, Sophie, but we have to fix it.”