Here I'll Stay

by Dominique Laura

  I nodded and tears blurred my vision. “It doesn’t hurt so bad now. Not as bad as it did a couple of days ago.”

  “You have to tell someone,” she said softly. “Or I will.”

  My body chilled with fear. Telling, seeking help, wasn’t ever something I planned on doing. I only had a few more months and then I would be free. If I brought it up now, moving on would be a lot harder than it already was. People would know. They would talk. They would whisper and all I would ever be known as was the girl whose parents neglected her and whose father beat her.

  I shuddered at the thought. I had survived too far to ever result to that. But if I were being completely honest with myself, that wasn’t the real truth at all. I wouldn’t tell anyone or report them because I didn’t know how. How did I tell someone about the horrors of my family? About the demons I literally had to fight every single day just to live? And I was barely doing that. I was moving, going through the motions, and trying to live, but I didn’t know if I would ever be successful. It was my life, but I felt shackled down and bound by the hate and lack of love.

  No. I shook my head. That wasn’t right. I didn’t lack love. I had a lot of it. And I had a family that was whole, thanks to Maci, Sarah, and Corey.

  “Daysie,” Mace said, pulling me from my thoughts. “You need to tell someone.”

  “I can’t,” I murmured. “It’s just a few more months. I’ve made it this far, what’s a few short months?”

  “Day…” She started, hesitation softening her glare.

  “Trust me, okay?” I reached forward to squeeze her hand. “I can do this. I’m strong. It looks a lot worse than it feels, I’m sure, and just like every other time, it’ll heal.”

  She nodded. “Fine, but you’re staying with me for the week. I really don’t want you to stay here. What did your mom say?”

  I cringed thinking about how she reacted when she saw the cuts and bruises on my body. “She barely even acknowledged me. It might have been wishful thinking, but I thought I saw a flicker of shock pass in her eyes for just a fraction of a second.”

  She gave me a tight, gentle hug, and I returned her embrace just as fiercely.

  I was going to be okay.

  I had to be.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sarah asked softly with wide eyes.

  It had been a week since the incident with my dad and I had spent that time at Maci’s house, stealing her food and most of the blankets on her bed. But what were best friends for, right?

  Since then, Sarah and Maci had been tip toeing around me, constantly asking questions I knew they couldn’t handle the answers to.

  How often did he hurt me?

  Had he always?

  What does your mom have to say about it?

  I knew they weren’t naive, I just think that they were hopeful. Of what? I’m not entirely sure.

  “Yes,” I stressed for the umpteenth time that day.

  “They don’t hurt?” Mace asked, openly eyeing the evidence of my father’s abuse.

  “Honestly? I just sort of shut the pain out, but when I do feel them it’s a welcome reminder of why I need to get the heck away from that house as soon as possible.”

  I picked at the lone daisy beside my crossed legs and swallowed back a lump in my throat. Daisies signified innocence and purity. Well, that’s what I had read somewhere online, anyway. The irony wasn’t lost on me that my parents had named me that, albeit with a different spelling. I had never considered myself to be pure nor innocent. My parents had both stripped me of those possible traits the minute I was born.

  My chest tightened as I pulled my hand from the tiny flower. I had told Sarah that I was okay, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I ever would be. I felt alone. Sure, I had my best friends, but the open wounds and scars my parents had continuously added to throughout my eighteen years of life were starting to sting again, as if they were fresh, and in a way, they were.

  “Day? We’re here for you,” Sarah said.

  “Always,” Mace added.

  My chest tightened again, but with a different emotion this time. I shook the lonely thoughts from my mind and gave them both a shaky smile.

  “I know you are, and I love you both so much for that.” My eyes watered with tears. “I don’t know what this life would be without you, or if it would even be much of a life at all.”

  “Great,” Maci said with a thick voice. “Now I’m going to have raccoon eyes.”

  Sarah laughed. “I think we’re all going to have raccoon eyes.”

  We were blubbering messes of tears, smiles, and laughter. We were friends, but we were family too, and I knew no matter what that they were all the family I would ever need.

  As the thought came, a tiny feeling of regret tingled through my soul. I would always long for the relationship I didn’t have with my parents, but their actions had never reflected anything other than resentment and hate. It made me resent and hate myself in return.

  The regret melted. I didn’t regret that Sarah and Maci were my family. We might not have shared the same blood, but we were connected to one another in ways that I used to dream of being with my parents.

  It wasn’t easy. Nothing ever was. This life of mine was trying. The thoughts of doubt constantly lingered in the back of my mind, and I avoided them as best as I could, but most nights weren’t as simple. Most nights I stayed awake with the smallest of voices playing on repeat, saying, “This is why you shouldn’t stay.”

  “Here comes the jerk,” Maci mumbled under her breath as she sat up straighter and hardened her eyes. “I never thought I would hate anyone, but I sure hate him.”

  I readied myself for the blow I knew he’d deliver. Sarah looked uncomfortable when he approached, and her eyes widened in annoyance. I almost laughed when a slight sneer transformed her angelic features.

  “I see you’re still going nowhere without your bodyguards,” he bit as soon as he walked up to us. “I always knew you were weak.”

  Maci raised a cool eyebrow up at him. “It’s always the same routine with you isn’t it, Jason? You just can’t help but put others down.”

  He huffed, annoyed. “I just don’t understand why you two waste your time with her. She isn’t worth it. You’re better than that.”

  I rolled my eyes. His insults were unoriginal at best, but apparently my emotions didn’t agree because at his words my stomach dropped.

  Before anyone could respond, he continued, turning his attention back to me. “What are you even wearing, piggy? It looks like you’re wearing a parachute, what with how big your dress is. I wonder how much material it took to make that thing.”

  I narrowed my eyes and resisted the urge to toss him my middle finger. I had semi stood up to him at the party but I wasn’t in the strongest mindset to do that now, not when I was open and vulnerable from dealing with my parents.

  He didn’t deserve my words, anyway. He was just a bully and for some reason I was the person he chose as his victim. The universe was out to get me, and I was reaching the point where I was going to let it take me. It was painful and exhausting having to fight for myself. I shook my head and looked over at my two best friends. I was fighting, but I wasn’t fighting alone and that’s why I didn’t give up, why I couldn’t. As much as it felt like it at times, I wasn’t alone in this life. I would even argue that I was more blessed than most.

  “You should leave now, Jason, before I knee you in your man parts,” Maci said with a sickly-sweet voice and an even sweeter smile.

  “Someone’s feisty.” Jason smirked and his friends laughed. I almost forgot they were there, but then they never did speak, just listened to Jason insult me. I almost preferred it that way. I wasn’t sure I could handle more than one person being cruel to me at a time.

  Maci’s eyes hardened. “Walk. Away.”

  He rolled his eyes, annoyed, like she was the one irritating him and not the other way around.

  “Alright, alright, I’m leaving.” He turned to walk away,
but shouted over his shoulder. “You won’t always have your friends there to protect you, little piggy.”

  I shivered at his threat. Protect me from what? That was something I never wanted to find out.

  “I heard my cousin was being a jerk again today,” Bren whispered against my temple. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there.”

  I shook my head, wrapping my arms around his middle. “It’s okay. There or not, he’s always going to have something to say to me.”

  “He’s always had it out for you and none of us are even sure why,” he said, sounding frustrated.

  “I used to wonder that too, but I don’t even care at this point.” I pulled away slightly and looked up at him. His eyes were blazing down at me and I loved that he wanted to protect me. “I love that you care so much though. It’s nice.”

  He looked baffled for a second. “Of course I care, Day. You’re my feel.”

  “Your feel?” I asked with a laugh. “What does that even mean?”

  “You know, my feel.” He shrugged.

  I gave him a look.

  He shook his head and laughed, taking my hands in his. “You make me feel more than I’ve ever felt with anyone else. I know we’re just starting out and I know how cheesy that sounds, but I’m blaming it on the feels. The feels that only you’ve ever given me, so that makes you my feel.”

  “Wow, what a way with words you have Mr. Connors.” I laughed.

  He leaned down to press a kiss against my lips. “I am in serious like with you, Daysie Flores.”

  His words made me smile and my stomach fluttered at the sincerity behind them.

  I sighed, pressing my body flush against his. “I am in serious like with you too, Brenton Connors.”

  “Does that make me your feel too?” He asked with a glint in his eyes.

  “It sure does,” I said as seriously as I could.

  “You’re damn right it does,” he said softly as his lips pressed against mine, mimicking what his words had said seconds before, that I was his feel.

  Brenton Connors was the type of person I never wanted to lose, and the type of person I never thought would like me back. But he did, and I wanted to wrap this moment up and keep it for safe keeping because I knew as well as anybody that good things eventually ended.

  I couldn’t hide from my parents much longer. Not that I had been hiding, but I definitely wasn’t in any hurry to get home. That place was toxic. As soon as I walked through the door, my skin prickled and my stomach dropped. It wasn’t a safe place, but the solace I had felt while staying at Maci’s home—because that’s what it was, it was more than a house—had made me realize how much I longed for something similar. But it was something I knew I would never have.

  I was quiet walking in. I knew they were expecting me, but I needed a few more moments to regroup my thoughts. Thankfully, Maci’s mom had called mine and explained that we had a huge project to work on which was why I needed to spend the weekend there. We didn’t have a project. Maci just pleaded with her mom to let me stay and realized the only way to convince her was to tell a little white lie.

  I released a deep breath and walked toward my room. I had no reason to be in any other parts of the house, so the sooner I was behind my door with the lock secured, the better.

  “Daysie,” my mother’s voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned to face her, a polite smile already in place. “How was your week?”

  “It was good. Busy, but good,” I said quietly. “We were able to get a lot done, which was nice.”

  “Hmm.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Your father told me about the fight you two had. I’m assuming that’s why you escaped to your friend’s house for some project, was it?”

  “It’s the second semester of our senior year, so we have a lot to do before we can actually graduate,” I meekly explained.

  Her eyes were hard but her tone was soft, almost condescending. She was trying to read me or get something out of me, maybe? I had no idea, but the longer I stood there making fake pleasantries, the more I worried about her intentions.

  “Your father told me about the,” she paused, almost like she was searching for the right word. “About the disagreement you two had.”

  I stared at her, resisting the urge to reach for the bruise still on my face. It was less colorful now but still visible if one looked hard enough. She wasn’t looking at all. She looked annoyed.

  When I didn’t make a move to speak, she shook her head and straightened her posture.

  “You’re not a child anymore Daysie, so why do you insist on acting like on every time you and your father fight? He’s ill, you know that, and you running away to your friend’s house every time something bad happens is only going to make things worse.”

  I cowered back slightly and flinched at the harshness of her voice. “You think I’m making things worse?”

  “It hurts him when you leave,” she said matter of factly.

  She couldn’t be serious.

  “Well, it hurts me whenever he puts his hands on me, so I guess we’re at an impasse.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “He’s your father, and he’s struggling. Parents discipline their children all the time, Daysie. You shouldn't let it affect you so much.”

  “You can’t be serious, mom,” I said, appalled at the fact that she was honestly defending him again. “He leaves marks every single time he gets near me and you’re okay with that? I’m getting really tired of lying for him, for both of you. He’s sick, yes, but his illness is hurting me, physically and mentally. It’s exhausting.”

  “You’re being selfish, Daysie, and I don’t have time to listen to your pity party,” she said, grabbing her purse and walking toward the door. “Stop acting like a child and take some responsibility. He wouldn’t do the things he does unless he had a reason.”

  I watched her retreating back behind the door as tears fell from my eyes. She didn’t care, she never had, but she had never been that heartless before.

  I growled in frustration, angrily swiping at my tears as they fell full force.

  “Why is this my life?” I asked out loud, knowing the only answer I would get was the silence from the room around me.

  I needed a run. Bad.

  I ran into my room, swapped out my attire for workout clothes and headed out the door. As my feet hit the pathway leading to my house, I looked up to see my dad walking up with a brown paper grocery bag in his hand.

  His steps faltered and I breathed in deep, gripping my phone.

  “Daysie,” he said slowly.

  I flinched back at the softness in his tone. It was the same softness he used when I was a little girl, when he would pick me up after a fall and ask if I was okay. It was the same softness he sometimes used when he was getting off his high and absorbing what he had done while under the influence. It was almost regretful, but still unapologetic somehow.

  I closed my eyes for the briefest of seconds, soaking in the calm before the storm. He was two people: the father he was supposed to be and the father he never would be. I knew where my mom was coming from when she defended his actions. He was sick, he did have an addiction, and he wasn’t himself when he let that addiction run his life and dictate his actions. But that didn’t excuse him. I had done my fair share of defending for him, but I was too exhausted for that now. He needed help and the longer he chose not to get it and the longer my mom enabled his behavior, there was no changing or getting better for him. That was reality, and sadly I was the one receiving the sharp end of the stick from that.

  When I opened my eyes, he was standing much closer, but still actively keeping his distances, almost like he was afraid of me and not the other way around.

  His bloodshot eyes were trained on my face and I realized he must have been staring at the lingering bruises left from his hands.

  I waited for some sort of acknowledgment, maybe even a flinch or a flash of remorse in his eyes, but I got nothing. Nothing but silence. So, I moved to walk past him, my need t
o run stronger than it was minutes before.

  His hand reached out, the bag he was holding forgotten as it fell to the concrete, and grabbed my forearm. I stared with wide eyes as his fingers indented my skin.

  “You’re not going to tell anyone about what happened are you?” He asked, gruffly.

  I moved my focus from his grip on my arm to his pale, sweaty face. He looked impatient as he waited for my answer, but what did he expect me to say? He was more concerned with himself than me, but that was something I should know to expect by now.

  I blinked slowly, processing his question. Since he was waiting for an answer, I knew I needed to give him one, especially since his hold on my arm was growing tighter.

  “Would it matter?” I asked quietly. “Would it matter if people knew the truth?”

  He jerked me closer to him, anger sharpening the bleakness in his eyes.

  “You listen to me, Daysie,” he said, nearly spitting in my face. “This is my life you’d be messing with. Parents discipline their children all the time. Hell, even my dad gave me a whooping from time to time, but kids nowadays want to complain about every little thing like they have a right. They don’t. You don’t. I am your father and it’d be best if you remember that.”

  He tightened his grip before shoving me away from him and walking into the house.

  I breathed out a small cry and looked around to make sure no one had witnessed out interaction. I could barely explain it to myself, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to explain it to someone else.

  I heard him moving around the house and knew I needed to leave before he came back out and decided he wasn’t through with me yet. Between the one-sided conversation with my mom and the confrontation with my dad, I needed to release some of the anguish that had built between that short amount of time.

  I put my headphones on, raised the volume on my phone, and took off on my run, focusing on my breathing and the erratic beat of my heart.

  I used to believe that we were only given lives that we could handle. But I didn’t know how much longer I could handle this. In a few months, I’d be finished with school, and once summer was through, I’d be away at college, finally living the life I was meant to, a life free of my parents and their spiteful ways.