“You can’t promise me that. No one can,” I whispered before the darkness finally pulled me back in.
I woke up a few hours later to nurses checking in on me. After the party, I had slept through to the next day before waking up. Sarah had been the one with me when I first woke up, though I had no recollection of it. She mentioned something about a meltdown, which sounded about right.
I was being released. My mom played dumb and somehow pulled some strings because I was being sent back to the house—the same one my dad had just assaulted me in—and my father was facing zero jail time, instead going to a thirty-day treatment center. It was involuntary, and he had no choice but to see it through. A part of me was relieved. He needed help and even though everyone knew the secret I had kept for years, I was okay with that. At least I thought I was, anyway.
Maci’s dad had been the one to take my dad off me. Sarah mentioned that as soon as we walked down the hallway, she ran outside to tell him what was happening. I was grateful. A little embarrassed, but grateful nevertheless.
I stared out the window while the doctor explained to my mom the soreness I would experience within the next few days. I halfheartedly heard her hum-like responses. She didn’t care. She had known all along what he was capable of and what he had done to me. She either turned the other cheek or blamed me. This incident had been the latter.
The car ride to the house was filled with awkward silence and thick tension. My leg jiggled, ready for a run, but I knew that would have to wait.
As soon as we stepped inside the house, my mother said her first words to me.
“You had to provoke him, didn’t you?” She spat. “You couldn’t have one night of celebration. He was happy, and we were all having a good time.”
“Were we?” I shook my head and laughed in disbelief. “He was drunk and probably high, and I’d bet anything that he was just biding his time before he could hit me again. Second to drinking and getting high, it seems to be his favorite pastime.”
My mother stayed silent, and her face turned red with barely repressed anger while her eyes narrowed to slits.
Great.
Two could play at this game.
I was exhausted, but I mentally prepared myself for a fight because knowing my mom and how important image was to her, she was just getting started.
“You’re an ungrateful child, Daysie,” she spat as soon as we walked in the house and the door closed behind us. “Your father and I have given you everything.”
“He beats me.”
“He’s sick, and if you would stop being selfish maybe you would see that.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “For someone so smart, you sure don’t act like it when it comes to dad.”
She stayed silent, moving her attention from me to her phone. She was done with this conversation, and that was her way of dismissing me.
Yeah, no, I didn’t think so.
“Why don’t you care? I’m your daughter, your only child, and still you disregard me like I’m nothing more than a nuisance imposing on your life. I didn’t choose this life, you chose it for me, so don’t punish me when none of this is my fault.”
Her fingers continued to tap on her phone, and she continued to ignore me.
I seethed.
My body heated with anger and I clenched my fists, letting the dig of my nails sooth some of the numbness.
“I have marks all over my body.” I croaked. “Some might disappear but I have scars that have barely faded. They’re a reminder of what he has done to me. I used to defend him, did you know that? I used to rationalize and sympathize with his addiction and sick, twisted need to hurt me, but I’m done doing that. I’m not going to defend him anymore. The next time someone asks, I’m going to give them the whole truth with no sugar coating, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.”
She flinched and slammed her phone on the counter. Her eyes shot to mine, narrowing in what looked a lot like accusation.
“I love you, Daysie, I do, but you need to be more supportive of your father. Do you think this is easy on him? On any of us?”
She couldn’t be serious.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I said with a scoff. I reached for my neck, lightly grazing the tender, bruised skin. Tears burned behind my eyes and after a few seconds of trying to contain them, I couldn’t anymore, so I let them fall. “Easy on him? On you? That’s your main concern? He literally attacked me and put me inside the hospital. I have imprints on my neck from where he grabbed me. This isn’t about you or him, mother, this is about me and my life and my pain. I’ve tried for so long to push everything aside because I knew—no, I know that he’s sick, but I can’t ignore it anymore. He needs help and I’m really relieved he’s getting it. I just really hope this month-long treatment program works for him. I truly do, but until you start acknowledging your part in this mess, I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to be a family.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Daysie. We’ll always be family, we share the same blood.”
She didn’t get it. She truly didn’t, and that hurt almost as much as the physical blows my father had frequently delivered.
I shook my head, resigned, and swiped angrily at the hot tears burning a trail down my cheeks.
“Family is more than sharing the same blood, and it’s really disappointing that you don’t understand that,” I said shakily, my throat thick from crying.
She was quiet, but she didn’t make a move to leave or speak, so neither did I. I stood there and stared at her until she announced she was leaving and watched her back as she left the house, closing the door quietly shut behind her.
Life wasn’t supposed to be perfect, I mean, where would the fun in that be? But I wasn’t sure it was supposed to be this painful. I wasn’t a bad person, at least I didn’t think I was, and I tried to be a good daughter, but if you asked either of my parents I’m sure they’d say I failed at that.
My father did have an illness but enabling him and making excuses every time he made an excuse wasn’t going to help any, which is why I was relieved for the court-mandated therapy. I only hoped it helped more than it would hurt, but there was only one way to find out, and thankfully I had a month until that happened.
This isn’t the life I pictured, but it was mine, and I was going to try, even when my heart begged for reprieve.
My truth had finally been shared, and I was relieved. And even though the weight of that secret had been lifted from my shoulders, a new weight had taken its place, and I hoped I was strong enough to hold it.
The truth was supposed to set you free, right? Then why did I feel more trapped than ever before?
“You were avoiding me,” Bren said softly, his sea-like blue eyes staring into my watery green ones.
I was tired of crying, but like many things in my life I had no control over the tears that fell freely. I was embarrassed and ashamed and having to explain what had happened to me—what had been happening since I was old enough to know—was all kinds of terrifying.
Bren was the type who had it all put together, and I was someone who never had. We were on opposite ends of the spectrum, but he balanced me and calmed me when my emotions were heightened. He was exactly what I needed and what I never knew I always wanted. Brenton Connors was my cliché, and I was going to soak him in for as long as I could.
“Daysie?” He whispered, pulling my hands into his lap and giving them a gentle squeeze.
I shook away my thoughts and swiped at the tears, hoping they would stop. It was exhausting, crying all the time, even though it took little to no effort.
“I’m sorry.” I croaked and cleared my throat. “I was avoiding you, yes, but I was ashamed. I still am. I mean, I had told you a little bit about how my home life was and how hostile my father is, but I never thought you’d have to see me like this.”
“Like what?” He asked, his brow creasing in concern.“
“Beaten, broken, and bruised,” I said with a s
mall, defeated shrug.
His eyes closed for a moment and when they opened they were filled with conviction. “You’re anything but those things, Daysie. You’re strong, and you’re still standing, even after all you’ve been through.”
I swallowed back a tightness in my throat and nodded, blinking quickly to hopefully finally quit the tears.
“It’s been a week and the marks are still there.” I pulled my hands from his and reached up to touch the still-tender parts of my neck from where my father’s fingers had pressed in deep. “I’ve tried not to care about what others think but I’m nervous about what people are going to say. I know they’ve already started to talk. My mom, who seemed against anyone ever finding out, sure seems to be milking all the attention she’s getting.”
My mother had completely changed her view on my father’s illness and family image. Well, at least to everyone on the outside looking in. She played the loyal mother and wife and spoke of his recovery and how she never knew how bad it was for him, and blah, blah, blah.
She was full of herself and though it had only been a week, people were already hanging onto her every word. It was sickening to watch, which was why I was at Bren’s, cuddled up on his bed in no rush to leave.
Seven days isn’t very long, but it was the longest I had ever gone without my father spewing his hateful words at me or his hands marking my body. It had been seven days of relief, and I felt free. I didn’t think it was possible, but it clearly was, and even though it was painful to reiterate, I was thankful that people finally knew the truth. And by people, I meant the ones who mattered, including my best friends and Bren. They were the only ones who needed to know the whole truth. Everyone else? Well, they could keep on assuming. It wasn’t like they genuinely cared anyway, they only wanted to be in the know and they were getting it from me if I could help it.
“Well, I can’t help what your mom’s doing, but I can try to help with you,” Bren said with a small smile.
“Yeah? How are you going to do that?” I asked, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, slightly nervous about what his next words were going to be.
“By being there.”
“Being there?” I repeated.
“Yup,” he said, his small smile growing a little bigger. “But I want to be there as something more.”
“Something more?” I asked cautiously, though I already knew what he was referring to.
“Yeah. What do you say about taking it a step further than the hanging out we’ve been doing?”
“That sounds intense.”
“It might be, but since I don’t want to scare you away, how about we compromise?” He leaned his face toward mine and brushed his lips against mine. “How would you feel about moving with me to the in between?”
I raised a brow and let a giggle break free. “Are you being serious right now?”
“A little?” He laughed, pulling away. “It got you to laugh, didn’t it, and you’re not crying anymore.”
My hands moved from my neck to my cheeks and my fingers searched for the evidence of fresh tears, but there weren’t any. They had dried.
“How did you do that?” I asked in awe. “I feel like I’ve been crying for a week straight, and you spew some sweet somethings at me and the tears just stop? Unbelievable.”
“Believe it. I’m good for you.” He brushed my grown-out bangs away from my face and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “We’re still getting to know each other, but the more I learn about you, the more I don’t want to ever let you go.”
“Really?” I squeaked, then quickly cleared my throat. “You’re like a fairytale. Seriously. You’re too good to be true. I feel like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Not sorry to disappoint, but you’ll be waiting a long time,” he said confidently. “But I’m no Prince Charming, Day, I’m something better.”
“Oh yeah? What’s better than Prince Charming?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.
“Easy, I’m just me.”
Before I could come up with something else witty to say, his lips were on mine and his hands were gently pulling my body on top of his. On instinct, my legs went on either side of his and I leaned on my knees, pressing my body lightly against his.
“You’re like a gift, Brenton Connors, that’s what you are,” I whispered in a rush against his lips. “The universe knew I would need you and they brought you to me at the perfect time.”
He shook his head and I felt him smile against my lips. “That’s where you’re wrong. The universe didn’t bring me to you, it brought you to me.”
His arms circled around my body and held me against him. He pressed gentle kisses against my jawline and made his way down. I froze up when his mouth lingered against my neck. I put my hands against his shoulders, fully prepared to pull away from him, but when his lips softly grazed the spots where I knew were still visibly bruised, I relaxed into him.
“I hate that he did this to you,” he said quietly against my skin. “But you really are wrong, Daysie. He didn’t break you. Because here you are still standing tall and breathing. You’re resilient, and his abuse is a reflection of his weakness, not yours. You’re strong and he can’t take that away from you, no one can.”
“Gah, I really thought I was done crying,” I said with the shake of my head, rolling my eyes playfully.
“They’re happy tears though, right?” He moved his lips over mine and held my gaze. “You’re happy?”
“I am.”
“I know I was joking, but I do want more with you. Just say the word and when you’re ready, I’m yours.”
“But you’re already mine.”
“You’re right, I am.” He nodded his head and smiled. “And you might not be ready to admit it out loud yet, but I know you’re mine too.”
I shook my head and stole a kiss before burying my head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.
Things were moving quickly, but at eighteen years old, wasn’t that how everything was supposed to be? Fast and fearless. I wanted to be fearless. Sure, it was scary as heck having one more person to live for, but Bren made everything lighter, and I needed that after all the heaviness I had experienced before him.
But I wasn’t naïve to think it would be easy. We had been living in a bubble and when I went back to school I knew that bubble would pop and we would be forced to face reality. Were we ready for that? Was I? I honestly didn’t know.
“You two are disgusting, but so cute, I might gag,” Maci made mocking gag sounds while she stared at Bren and me.
We were sitting beneath a tree during our lunch hour and Bren’s hand hadn’t loosened its grip on mine. It was comforting, especially with the whispers going around school. There were different variations of the truth going around, but not one person had bothered to ask me to my face how I was doing or what had happened.
Not that my friends had given them a chance. Whenever someone approached us, Maci scared them away with her resting hate face. It was her new signature look, I was quickly learning. Her face was emotionless and passive except for when she was talking to the four of us. It was almost comical to watch.
“There’s a trash can about five feet behind you, and it might give you a bit of privacy,” I said, trying to keep a serious face but failed when she flipped her middle finger my way.
“How are you, Day?” Sarah asked, leaning back into Corey. “We haven’t really had the chance to talk about it since the hospital.”
She was right. I had been too consumed in Bren and avoiding my mother. When I wasn’t with Bren and he was working at the ice cream shop, I was running. I ran a lot. Sometimes for hours at a time. It occupied my mind and numbed me, making it so no other thoughts could sneak in.
I hadn’t been the greatest friend lately and they deserved better than that.
“I’m okay. Some moments are better than others, but I’m holding it together as best as I can,” I told her honestly. “It sucks. I’m not sure how I’m supposed
to live at this point.”
“What do you mean, Day?” Maci asked, and I felt Bren’s worried gaze search the side of my face.
I turned, giving him a reassuring smile.
“As hard as it is to admit, I grew accustomed to the environment I was living in,” I said, looking anywhere but any of their faces. “It became my normal. The abuse, the drugs, all of it. I figured it was the way it would always be, so I dealt with it. Barely. But now that it’s halted, I’m not sure how to live without fighting for my life.”
They were quiet, so I continued.
“I’m not sure how to live a life without that pain, ya know? It’s all I’ve ever known. I was almost brainwashed to think that’s normal, and it’s sad, but it’s the truth.”
“Day…” Sarah said, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. I can’t even imagine. I should have done more.”
“There’s nothing you could have done.” I shrugged, unsure of what else to say.
“No, she’s right,” Maci said, stubborn as always. “We witnessed firsthand the things he would do to you, and we should have done something more before it was too late.”
“We can’t undo what’s already been done, all we can do is do better for next time,” I said softly. “Or something like that. I don’t know. All I do know is that you’re the reason I’m living now, and whether you realize it or not, you did help me. You were there, and my soul aches at the thought of where I would be without you all. You’re my lifelines, so don’t sell yourselves short.”
Maci and Sarah shared a look and just as I was about to comment on the unshed tears shining in their eyes, they moved as one unit and tackled me to the ground. I laughed, trying to shove them off, but it was useless.
They wrapped their arms around me and hugged me tight, refusing to let go even when the tardy bell to our next class rang.
We would always be together, and that calmed the racing thoughts in my mind. I had them, and I had Bren, and life was going to be okay.
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