For only a second I feel safe. Only one second. Because as that second passes, I know what will happen after the bar closes tonight. This is my fault. He will blame me. He will hold me responsible.
Ignoring the growing commotion, laughter, hoots and hollering, I run through the swinging bar doors and out the front door. I need to make this right or—I breathe in and out, harder and harder until I see Trent crouched up against the tire of my Jeep. ”You okay?” I ask. Please don’t blame me for this.
He looks up at me, swatting at his nose, wiping blood away. Thankfully, I only get light headed when I see my own blood or I’d be a goner right now. “You’re a bitch,” he says. I walk toward him, handing him a napkin for the blood. “You’re fucking one of them, aren’t you?” Fucking one of them? I should laugh. I’ve only been with Trent, and I would be scared to be with anyone else. Besides knowing he would kill whoever that was and then me, I don’t like sex. It hurts.
He hurts me.
I crouch down in front of him, taking his hand. “I shouldn’t have lied, and no, I’m not sleeping with anyone else, but—you make it really hard to do my job with your overprotective behavior. It’s not necessary. I’m faithful to you and always have been.” These words used to feel foreign, like they were a lie. They are a lie, but I’ve convinced myself that this is the only way to keep myself safe—to tell him what he needs to hear. I hold my breath, hoping I said the right thing.
“Did you tell those assholes that I was an asshole?”
“No,” I say. I should have, but I’m pretty sure actions speak louder than words anyway. I said everything right. I said what he wanted to hear, so why is he looking at me that way? The glare in his eyes goes dark, his fists clench by his sides and his jaw slides back and forth like an angry animal. I instinctively try to move away, but when an animal attacks there isn’t much of a warning. A burn strikes across my face and the sound of my neck crackling strikes a nerve. At first I don’t feel it, but then it screams through me like a tsunami of agony. “I guess I am an asshole,” he says through a smirk. “Such is life, Daphne. There are always consequences for poor decisions.” Always consequences. My existence is a consequence.
I realize I’m no longer crouching. I’m curled up in a ball in the middle of this dirt parking lot. Brush, dust, and rage from Trent’s 1998 beat up Camaro blows over me as he peels out of the lot.
I cough and wave away the dirt falling over me like rain. When the dust clears, I see the bar door fly open. Kemper runs toward me and scoops me up with one swift move. “Holy shit,” he shouts. He doesn’t say anything besides that. Instead, he races us back inside and up to the bar through a parted path of Marines who all look like they’re ready to attack.
CHAPTER NINE
CURRENT DAY
KEMPER
WALKING OUT FROM THE BACK door, I hear a barrage of laughter and shouting, but I can’t see what’s going on. On the way over to the bar, I pass by JB, one of my buddies, who’s kind of just watching everyone around us. “Dude, what’s going on?” I ask, pushing through the bar doors. Why is everyone all riled up? And where is Daphne?
“Bro, you just missed the most epic bar fight. This guy came in here raging on roids and started yelling at the bartender chick. I think he was her boyfriend or some shit. He told her he was taking her home, but she didn’t want to go. We handled the rest.”
I drop my fist to the bar. “Where is she?” Fury fires through me and I take one of the steins and thrash it to the ground.
“Whoa,” JB says, grabbing my wrist, as I’m about to throw down the other glass in my hand. “Chill. You can’t go running after someone else’s girl like that.”
“Just tell me where she is,” I demand. Why am I so angry right now? I hardly know her. Why can’t I calm down?
“She’s outside, man. She ran after him.” JB takes the stein from my hand and places it down on the bar. “She’s just outside. Take a breather.” I’m losing it, and now I’m standing here staring at the door, waiting for her to come back in.
“You look like you haven’t slept for days, bro. You should go home and get some rest. That chick will be okay, I’m sure.” I try to look over his head out the window, but I can’t see through the yellowed glass. “Speaking of chicks, what’s happening with Tara? Have you heard anything from her?”
The fuse is getting shorter and shorter by the second. “I haven’t heard from her and I don’t want to hear from her at this point. Typical bitch.” I wish everyone would stop asking about her.
“So then what’s with the chick out there?” He takes a long pull of his beer and looks over my shoulder, lifting his hand to wave at someone. I’m hoping he’ll turn around and forget what he just asked me. No such luck, though. He looks back at me, takes another sip, and waits for my response.
“I just met her yesterday,” I say, keeping it short.
“And she has a boyfriend?” he laughs.
“I only found out about him a couple hours ago.” I’m still trying to see through the yellowed glass, and while I can’t make anything out, I hear a car take off. I can’t imagine she’d abandon the bar as packed as it is, but she hasn’t come back in yet either.
“Well, he looks like a dick, so you never know.” JB is called over by one of the other guys and gives me a friendly slap on the arm. “Be good if she comes back in.”
Why hasn’t she come back in yet? Fuck this. I don’t give a shit if that dick is her boyfriend or not, I shove the door open so hard a gust of sand from the dirt lot flies up in front of me, making it hard to see anything. I wait for the dust to fall and my focus settles on Daphne who’s curled up in a ball in the middle of the lot. Shit! I run toward her, barely feeling my feet hit the gravel, and I scoop her up in my arms, noticing a red welt across the center of her cheek. She glances at me and then closes her eyes. A pink blush emerges around the welt and I feel her heart pounding through her back. How could anyone hit her?
Why isn’t she crying?
Never mind. I know why she isn’t crying.
CHAPTER TEN
CURRENT DAY
DAPHNE
“THAT’S TWICE IN ONE DAY I’ve had to save you,” Kemper says, his soft voice soothing my nerves as he presses a cool compress against my forehead. His other hand is cupped around my cheek. No one has ever cared enough to save me. Kemper’s face is inches from mine and I can smell the cool mint on his breath from the gum he’s been chewing.
“I guess so,” I mutter, falling a little deeper into his gaze.
His thumb runs down the length of my nose, and while most of me is feeling pain, that sensation still drives quivers through my body. “Does that hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head, “Not too much,” I say, noticing a slight ache in my neck.
His thumb moves over to my right cheekbone and he presses gently. “How about that?” All I feel is the warmth from his skin. I shake my head again. He does the same for my left cheekbone. This time I wince. It hurts. I clench my eyes and I hear him yell to someone to grab ice. “Is this the first time he’s hit you?” Kemper’s brows are bowed toward his nose while his thumb continues to trace small circles around my cheek. I’d rather lean into his hand than respond.
In truth, I just don’t want to answer him, but he’s still staring at me, waiting for a response. I look down, away from his gaze. The ache in my chest, mixed with feeling like a weak woman, makes me want to cry, but I won’t cry in front of all these people. His finger curls under my chin and he tilts my face back up to look at him. His eyes are kind and caring, yet pained at the same time. The light is hitting them at the perfect angle, giving them the slightest shimmer in the center of each pupil. Then there are his lips—I can’t stop looking at those either. They’re full and capable. They look like they have the ability to kiss in a way I’ve definitely never been kissed. I want to touch his lips, but I belong to Trent—the asshole that just hit me.
Kemper pulls my head into his chest and wraps his arms around me. �
��I know this isn’t the first time he’s hit you,” he says softly into my ear. How would he know that?
“Why do you say that?” I snap. I sound hostile because I think this is one fact I’d rather keep to myself.
“You would probably be crying if this was the first time.” The softness of his voice, the truth—it hurts worse than my cheek. “I’m here if you want to talk, but I won’t force you.” Tears threaten to erupt, but I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath. I want to continue inhaling this man who smells like a combination of summer rain and a cool spring breeze, but I can’t. I’m forced to be with Trent—who maybe showers once a week.
I pull away and jump down from the bar. “I’m okay,” I say, even though my head is heavy. I stumble over my feet a bit just as his hands find my hips. He lifts me up easily, placing me back on the bar top as if I were a child.
“You’re not okay. You need ice and to take it easy for a minute.” Just once in my life, I’d like to be known as the strong person, rather than the weak one. I hate the way people look at me like they’re sorry for me. It’s the way I look at myself and I’m so tired of it. Everyone in this bar is talking about me right now. It’s like they all know the secret I’m hiding. I want to hide behind the bar and never face any of these people again.
“They all need beers,” I say, pointing to the crowd, trying my hardest to move on from what just happened, but the bar erupts into laughter, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
I should leave now while I still have an ounce of dignity.
I hold my focus on Kemper, who’s also trying to hide his laughter. “Why are they laughing?”
“Darlin’,” one of the Marines speaks up from the crowd, “we can wait a few minutes for beers. Besides, we nominate Prince Charming to serve us for the rest of the night anyway.” Prince Charming. Fairy tales. They aren’t real. “We went a year without a drink. Don’t you worry about us, ya hear?”
“Sure,” I say meekly.
“Was that asshole your boyfriend?” one of them asks. Since my focus is locked on Kemper, I watch him turn around and give the guy a look I can’t see, but I’m assuming Kemper told him to shut up because the Marine walks away.
As soon as the first guy is out of earshot, another one, an older looking Marine from the crowd walks up to Kemper’s side. “Look, hon, we don’t tolerate that kind of stuff. You ever need anything, you let Kemp here know.” He pats Kemper on the back and squeezes his shoulder. “We all have your back. Consider us your brothers.” The thought warms and comforts me. It makes me feel a little more protected than I’ve ever felt. Has anyone ever told me they’d be there for me if I needed them before…and meant it? The man places his arm around my back and leans toward me. “Never let a man hit you. And if one does, a stiff kick to the nuts will do him good.” I close my eyes and laugh quietly before glancing back over at Kemper. His lips are twisted into a crooked grin and he’s nodding in agreement.
For the rest of the night, I was forced to sit on top of the bar as two of the Marines served beer and two more swept, grabbed empty glasses and shuttled them to the dishwasher. I’ve never met a more caring group of people than these guys. I felt—special…for once.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THREE YEARS AGO
DAPHNE
TRENT AND I HAVE BEEN together for three months now. After spring break ended last March, I went back to school thinking I’d probably never see him again, especially since during the two months I was away, I didn’t hear from him much.
I was wrong, though.
Once I got home for summer break in May, Trent started sending me a few text messages, asking me to go out. What else was there to do besides listen to Mom and Dad try to slowly kill each other for three months? So, I agreed.
After a few weeks of going out, we agreed to take things slow and then see how things are when the school year comes around again.
We had a good time this summer, but now it’s the end of August and I’ve made a decision.
Leaning up against his garage door beside me, he nudges me in the shoulder. “So you’re leaving for school next week, huh?” he asks, taking a long inhale from the butt he’s smoking.
“Yup. Senior year. Wahoo.” I twirl my finger in the air with sarcastic excitement. “So, I’ve thought about this a little, and I think it might be best if we go our own ways for the school year. If we find each other again next summer, so be it,” I say. I can’t imagine a long distance relationship working. I mean, things were fun for the past few months, but I don’t see this going anywhere. He’s pre-occupied a lot of the time and we have so many differences. Too many differences.
“You want to break up with me for the school year so you can screw other men, and then if you have nothing else going on next summer, you’ll call me up so we can jump right back into things?”
“That’s not what I was thinking at all.” Well… I’ve come to learn that this dating thing isn’t so bad, and I’m young—I should see what else is out there, or so I’ve told myself. I’m trying to do the right thing, but I can see he’s not happy with my suggestion.
“Right,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “Were you planning this all summer?”
I take a long inhale of the thickly tainted August air, debating my answer. “No, I’ve spent the last few days thinking about this. It’s my senior year and I can’t be distracted. We both know you’re a distraction.” I try to smile and ease some of his anger.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, how about we just go to that party tonight and we’ll talk about this some more tomorrow. Maybe you’ll change your mind in the morning.” That’s doubtful. One thing he hasn’t learned about me this is summer is that I don’t like the parties he goes to. I don’t particularly like the things he does. We’re not a match made in heaven. Can’t he see this?
“I sort of don’t want to go to that party,” I tell him.
He tosses his cigarette to the pavement of his driveway and pulls me into him. “You and I are going to the party tonight,” he grins. “We’re forgetting about this conversation, and we’re going to have fun just as if it were the beginning of the summer.” His lips press against mine and the taste reminds me of a smoky trashcan. “Say okay.” He kisses me a little harder, holding me tightly within his arms. “I need a night to remember while you’re gone all year.”
I never did say okay, but he pulled me along to his car and ushered me inside. I sat still for the twenty-minute ride, staring out the window, watching my unfamiliar reflection brighten as the sun sets. Who am I? This isn’t me.
We pull up to an old, condemned frat house near the local college and park alongside the dark woods. Trent reaches for my hand when I meet him in front of his car and he guides us along a dark path toward the back of the house until we reach a set of foggy glass windows. Two of them are broken into. “This is just the hidden access spot. Don’t worry,” he says. I have a bad feeling as I climb in through one of the broken windows, jumping down into the darkness of an empty room. The music blares, leading us to the party. Fog and strobe lights make it rough to see much, but when my eyes focus, I’m horrified by what I see. People are having sex on pool tables. There are girls with their mouths around guys man-parts, and there’s a—is that a threesome on a couch? Oh my God. The woman being used as an outlet is on her knees; her face is contorted like she doesn’t know what’s going on. The men are shoving into her over and over as her face scrapes against the table. She isn’t reacting. My stomach aches for her. My stomach aches for me. My imagination could never conjure up as much horror as I’m seeing right now. I hug myself tightly, wanting to run for the door, but I don’t know how to get back to where we came in. I need air. I need it now.
“Trent, I want to leave right now.”
“Babe, it’s fine. Just relax. Let’s grab a drink.”
“No. I want to leave,” I shout. He looks at me with rage and grabs my arm, pulling me in a direction I know we didn’t come from. The farther we walk, the
more I see and the more I need air. There’s a group of people shooting themselves up with something in the corner. One of them is passed out with the needle still in his arm. Another is up against the wall with a dead look on his face. Is he dead?
Trent is still pushing me forward toward a keg when one of his buddies shouts over to us.
“Hey man,” Trent says, giving Kenny, the guy I’ve seen at Trent’s house a few times, a high-five. The music is so loud; I can’t hear much of their conversation, which forces me to take in more of my surroundings. My focus freezes on the girl sprawled out on a couch. Her head is cocked to the side, her pants down by her ankles, her fingers moving in and out from between her legs. She’s moaning and grinding her butt into the couch. Then she looks over at me and licks her lips, causing me to recoil. With her free hand, she reaches out to me and it’s at this moment where I’ve taken all I can take.
I feel like I’m in a nightmare. My heart is in my throat and fear is pushing my blood through my veins faster than I thought possible. I turn back to get Trent’s attention, but he’s gone. He’s gone. I can’t even see more than a couple of feet in front of me, and I’m panicking.
As I move back in the direction I think we came in from, hands reach out to me. Someone is touching me…everywhere, and it’s not Trent. I continue to run, looking for the way out, but now I’m in a dark hall and those hands are back. I’m pinned up against a wall and the man is trying to shove his hand down my pants. His fingers are jabbing against me and I scream for help. I cry for help. My chest is aching like someone punched me. “Stop!” I yell. “Leave me alone!” My cries are useless. I can’t move beneath this man’s grip and his tongue is running down my neck, his hot breath coating my chest like a thick fog. I continue to fight, kicking and swinging. His grip finally loosens, so I drop to the ground in order to escape his grasp. I still can’t see anything, but I’ve managed to get away. Trembling uncontrollably, I desperately search for the way out to safety. After finding a new hallway, I get back up and search every room until I find the broken window. I climb out and fall to my knees, retching violently, as the reality of what happened, and what could have happened, sets in.
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