Here I'll Stay

by Dominique Laura

  My heart pounded in my ears and my stomach tied itself in knots.

  He surprised me though. Instead of reacting angrily, he gentled his touch and tightened his hold on my body, pressing me as closely against his as he could manage.

  My bottom lip trembled and my eyes watered in relief. So far, so good. Maybe.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked after a moment of silence.

  “Honestly?” He said, shaking his head in frustration. “It explains a lot but I’m really pissed off right now and I’m holding back because I don’t want to scare you. It isn’t something I want you to witness.”

  I stared at him, silent, afraid that if I spoke I’d break down all over again.

  This had already felt like the longest day ever and as the silence stretched between us, it felt even longer.

  “Who else knows about this?”

  “Just Maci and Sarah,” I told him honestly. “And that’s really only because they’ve witnessed him in action a few times.”

  He cursed and his hands clenched into fists. “You need to tell someone, Daysie.”

  “It isn’t that simple.”

  “It is.”

  “He’s sick. He needs help.”

  “Well then he needs to get it but I don’t see how him using you as a punching bag is helping with that.” He argued.

  I wanted to be angry, wanted to defend him further like I had when Maci questioned me about the exact same thing, but I couldn’t. Not this time.

  “Can we please talk about this in the morning?” I quietly pleaded. “I just want to enjoy this really romantic night with you, and then I promise to tell you whatever it is you want to know tomorrow. But, for now, can we just enjoy each other without all the drama?

  “Daysie,” he started.

  “Please?” I begged.

  He looked unsure but as he stared into my eyes filled with barely restrained tears, he nodded his head.

  “Okay.” He pressed a kiss against my temple. “Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

  My body sagged with relief. Bren hadn’t run, in fact he seemed more worried about me than anything else. Maybe the truth would set me free, as cliché as that sounded.

  We’d have to wait and see.

  I had avoided having that conversation with Bren.

  I mean, sort of.

  I planned on opening up and being honest, but I was still holding myself back, so maybe I wasn’t as ready as I thought I had been. It’s scary showing someone the parts of you that few others have ever seen. Telling someone your story, someone who had the potential to break inside your heart and change everything, well, that wasn’t an easy feat.

  I had woken up that morning, inside that comfy tent, to multiple texts from Maci. She had been worried. Apparently, my mother called hers demanding where I was, and it was then I noticed the several missed calls and texts from her on my phone as well.

  So, I dressed, sent a longing look toward Bren’s sleeping body, and headed home. I mean, technically I hadn’t avoided the conversation on purpose, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful for the extra time to figure out how I was going to tell him more than I already had.

  Fathers and mothers were supposed to be kind, nurturing, and protective of their children. That’s how my friends’ parents were. I was the unlucky one whose parents didn’t embody any of those characteristics.

  It made me sad.

  And I wanted to avoid that truth for as long as I could.

  I knew little about Bren’s family, aside from his jerk of a cousin Jason, but I was willing to bet by his easygoing personality that they were just as loving as he was.

  I took a deep breath before walking into my house. It was unusually loud, eerily so. I cautioned my steps as I made my way into the kitchen, where the noise was coming from.

  I stared, shocked, at the scene unfolding in front of me.

  My mom had a mess of pots and pans all over the stove and several ingredients spread across the kitchen counter.

  She cursed as she mixed something in a bowl and turned around, her eyes narrowing as they landed on me.

  “I’ve been calling you all morning,” she bit out, angry, which confused me even more.

  “I know, that’s why I’m here,” I said. “I was with a friend last night, and I guess I just lost track of time.”

  Her eyes narrowed further and disgust lifted the corners of her nose.

  “Is this friend a boy?” She asked, judgement clear in her tone.

  “Yes, actually,” I said bravely.

  “I always knew you’d end up being one of those girls,” she said, shaking her head with the roll of her eyes. “I just didn’t think you’d start so soon.”

  I flinched back from her tone. “I’m not being anything. I have a friend, who happens to be a boy, isn’t that allowed?”

  She ignored my rhetorical question.

  “Today is your father’s birthday, so I decided to throw a little get-together for him, maybe put a smile on his face after all the,” she paused for dramatic effect, I’m sure. “All the stuff you’ve put him through, especially lately.”

  My fists clenched at my sides. Had she forgotten that he often fought with her too? I was his main punching bag because she was hardly home, but when she was, well, they went at it like it was no one’s business. That, and they ignored each other or shared false pleasantries. For what? I have no idea. They were both in a constant state of delusion, one that I wanted no part in.

  I stayed silent, knowing my words would do nothing more than anger her further.

  She didn’t seem to notice my silence though or the shaking of my body when my father walking into the room and they shared a hug and kiss.

  He looked at me expectantly and I knew she was waiting for me to acknowledge his birthday, but I couldn’t—I wouldn’t. Would it have been the polite thing to do? Sure, but I was barely hanging on by a thread as my mother’s arms wrapped around his waist.

  What alternate universe had I walked into and how could I walk back out? I silently asked myself.

  They were out of their minds. It was official.

  “Daysie, isn’t there something you want to tell your father?” He bit out, barely restrained anger filtering through his tone.

  I took a step back, and then another.

  “I have somewhere I need to be,” I said quietly.

  My mother sighed, clearly irritated. “You need to help us prepare for tonight. I’ve invited everyone.”

  “Who’s everyone?”

  “Just some people from work.” She shrugged casually, leaning into my dad’s touch.

  Understanding dawned on me. She wasn’t doing this for him, she was doing it for herself, to make herself look good in front of her coworkers and bosses and the neighbors around the block. She was doing it to keep up appearances.

  I cursed myself.

  How could I forget? We were due for a night of false pleasantries in front of people we rarely spoke to. My mother cared about image, so once or twice a year she dragged my father and I to events, but this was the first time in as many years that she had hosted one herself.

  What was she up to?

  “I’m not up to anything, Daysie.” She sounded angry, and I had asked that out loud. Great.

  “You better learn your place, girl, before I have to teach you where that is.” My father snarled from beside her.

  I stayed quiet, my body shaking the longer I stood across from their portrait-like stance. I was afraid of both of them. She was just as cruel as he was. She might not have been the one putting her hands on me but she didn’t stop him either, even when he hurt me in front of her. No, because he was sick, so it wasn’t her fault.

  That was her excuse for him, anyway.

  My eyes widened as I realized I had been doing the same thing. More often than not, I excused his behavior by referring to his alcoholism and drug use, and even though they were valid excuses, that’s all they were—excuses.

  He needed help,
but they would never get it for him, and my word against theirs wasn’t worth much because I had no doubt my mom would convince everyone that I was over exaggerating, like a child often does when they’re upset.

  Tears heated my eyes as I remembered what had happened when I first tried telling someone about how often my dad hit me and about how my mom would just sit there and turn the other cheek. She would squeeze my shoulder, give a light laugh, and lie through her teeth, all with a smile on her face.

  And they believed her.

  Every time.

  I was in this alone, and no one knew the horrors that took place behind our closed doors at all hours of the day.

  I shivered at the thought of people walking around our house and mingling in the same spots I had been shoved to the ground and forced to take his hate.

  I was going to need backup to survive this night. A lot of it.

  “Sorry not sorry, Day, but I loathe your parents with a passion,” Maci said, her eyes following my parents as they walked around the room, arm in arm, and greeted people.

  “Here, here,” Corey and Sarah said at the same time, holding their drinks up.

  I cracked a smile, grateful that they had been able to make it. Though they weren’t aware, apparently my mother had sent out invitations to this shindig weeks ago, and their parents had each received one.

  “Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the only ones.” I gripped the plastic champagne glass in my hands.

  Unfortunately, it was filled with sparkling cider, but the burning sensation as the liquid slid down my throat was a welcome discomfort.

  “Is Bren coming to this thing?” Sarah asked.

  “Yeah, shouldn’t he have been here already?” Maci asked with a raised brow.

  “I’m sure he would be,” I said, pausing for a moment. I knew they were going to like my next words. “Had I actually told him about it.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, Day.” Mace asked, appalled. “He romances you last night, making it clear he’s totally into you, and you don’t invite him to this crapfest.”

  I gave her a pointed look. “That’s exactly why I didn’t invite him because like you said, it’s a crapfest. I mean, look at them, smiling and talking like their lives are perfect. If people knew the truth about them, I bet they wouldn’t be so quick to laugh with them.”

  Sarah’s arm wrapped me in a side hug and I immediately flinched at the placement of her tiny fingers. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” I asked, playing dubious.

  “That little flinch you just did,” Sarah said in a harsh whisper.

  I looked at Maci who widened her eyes at me. I shook my head and sighed.

  “My bruises are still healing,” I said softly. “You just pressed into one, that’s all. It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s really not fine,” Sarah’s voice raised. Her tiny hands clenched and unclenched at her sides.

  Corey gave her shoulders a gently squeeze. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, babe. That wouldn’t help Day.”

  I gave him a grateful smile when Sarah’s body deflated and leaned back against his.

  “I hate keeping this secret, Day,” Sarah said with a tremble in her lower lip. “You don’t deserve any of this and if we told our parents or even the school counselor, I know they’d want to help. Why won’t you let them? What are you so afraid of?”

  I breathed out, frustrated at myself for dragging them into all my issues. They were my best friends but I know my secret was burdening them as well, and I hated it. Hated that I was the reason for their worry and pain.

  “Honestly?” I breathed out. “I’m afraid of not getting help. I mean, I’ve tried telling people before, when I was younger, and it was always brushed off because my mom would convince them I was being dramatic and seeking attention.”

  “But you’re an adult now. I mean, basically. Isn’t it worth another try?”

  I looked into Sarah’s sad eyes and shrugged. “I only have a few months and then I’ll be at college. Honestly, I’m not sure I have the strength to fight full force until then, and I know that if I open my mouth about what’s been going on, that that’s exactly what I’d be doing.”

  She sighed and shook her head, resigned. “Okay. It’s your decision.”

  “Just know that just because we’re supportive, that doesn’t mean we have to like it,” Maci grumbled.

  “I know,” I said with a light laugh. “Believe me, I know.”

  We stood in our little group the rest of the night. It wasn’t until it was time for cake and singing that we were forced to separate. Literally forced. My mother gripped my arm and casually dragged me to the dessert table, practically throwing me against my father’s side. From the outside looking in we probably looked like a family excited to celebrate his birthday. In reality we were a family with no excitement all, not when it came to each other.

  I almost hated them.

  Almost.

  And I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to forgive them for what they had put me through, what they continued to put me through. I deserved better than they’d ever be willing to give. Still I played my part as the dutiful daughter that night, smiling and laughing when appropriate.

  I hated myself for it, for pretending to be someone I wasn’t. But it wasn’t for their sake, it was for mine. I was hurting and as badly as I tried to convince myself that it would be better when I moved away, I knew that wasn’t true. In order to truly move on from something, it needed to be faced head on. I wasn’t strong enough, not while the pain was all consuming.

  I smelled him before I heard him, my body tightening at the barely controlled slur in his voice. “Daysie.”

  He sounded angry, but that wasn’t really a surprise. Anger was the one real emotion he wore.

  “Dad,” I bit out through my teeth.

  Conversation halted around me as he gripped my arm. It was the end of the night and most of the party goers had left. Maci, Sarah, and I were in our corner laughing about some joke and my mom was outside, thanking Sarah and Maci’s parents.

  It was quiet, and I knew it was no mistake that he had waited until everyone had left before coming over to me.

  “Mr. Flores,” Maci said in a sugar-coated voice. “I think you should let go of her arm.”

  He ignored her, and his hold on me tightened.

  “You’re an ungrateful brat, Daysie, and I hope everyone here knows it,” he said harshly, jerking my arm as he spoke. “I’ve been watching you all night and you’re so fake, it’s sad. These people don’t know you like I do but I know if they did that they would think twice about being your friend.”

  Tears blurred my vision as his words took root, just like he wanted them to.

  “Please let go of my arm,” I said softly. “You’re hurting me.”

  “I’m hurting you?” He yelled, his anger no longer barely controlled. “Good. I hope you feel what I’ve been feeling since the day you were born.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked incredulously.

  “Mr. Flores, you really need to let her go.” Maci tried again, her voice no longer sweet but hard. “Now. Before I walk outside and get my dad.”

  “No one’s going to believe you,” he spat, pulling my body harshly against his. “She’s my daughter and I’m trying to have a chat with her. You’re interrupting is rude.”

  The more he spoke, the harder it was to understand what he was saying. He was on something, and it was more than just the alcohol I had seen him down throughout the night.

  “Dad, why don’t we talk in the other room where it’s more private?” I asked quietly, trying to spare my friends from seeing him hurt me. He was going to do it either way, that much was clear, but I preferred for it to not be in front of my best friends.

  “Fine, yeah, alright,” he said gruffly, dragging me along as he walked down the hallway to my room.

  Tears fell from my eyes and I resisted the urge to cry out loud.

  You’
re going to be okay, you’re always okay, I silently promised myself.

  He slammed the door behind us and shoved my back against the wall. I fought for breath, tears flooding my vision.

  His fist barreled into the wall beside my head and I cowered against the hard surface, internally screaming for someone to rescue me.

  “Dad, please calm down,” I begged, though I knew it was useless.

  He ignored me and his wide, angry eyes bulged. His fingers wrapped around my neck and he squeezed. Hard. I clawed at his wrist, trying to relieve the pressure, but he squeezed tighter.

  “You. Are. The worst thing. To happen. To me.” He was seething. My door was shoved open and a figure pulled him off me. My vision clouded and before I fell to the ground and lost consciousness, I heard a scream.

  I drifted off, welcoming the darkness. It was safe, it was secure. The darkness hid what the light showcased.

  I let it swallow me whole, and I vowed to stay there for as long as forever would allow.

  My eyes blinked open to a brightly lit room and I quickly closed them, begging for the darkness to take me back. I needed it, needed to disappear.

  But darkness wouldn’t welcome me back. No.

  The light was overpowering and brutal, and I couldn’t escape it. A cry ripped from my lips and I whimpered. Everything hurt. My head pounded and my neck ached, and I thrashed and kicked against the cool sheets coating my skin.

  I couldn’t breathe; I felt suffocated and trapped.

  I screamed as loud as I could and sobbed, curling in on myself.

  Take me back, please, I can’t live like this anymore, I begged the darkness, knowing my plea would go unanswered.

  “Daysie, Daysie, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Small arms wrapped around my body, but I pulled away, shaking my head.

  I sobbed harder.

  “What’s happening to me? What’s wrong with me?” I shut my eyes tighter, ignoring the warm tears streaming down my cheeks. “Why won’t it take me?”

  “Why won’t what take you, Daysie?” A soft voice asked.

  “The darkness!” I yelled, needing someone to understand.

  “She needs a doctor!” The voice told someone before speaking against my ear. “You’re going to be fine, Daysie. I promise.”