Delicate

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Delicate Page 15

by Stephanie Campbell

“That just means we have to be quiet,” he says with a devilish smirk.

  His hands move across my skin, over my stomach, along my collar bone, in a way that used to thrill me, but now, I cringe.

  “We need to talk,” I say. I try to push him off of me, but he isn’t concerned with my lack of interest.

  “I don’t want to talk, Sydney. I want you.”

  I’m so caught off guard that it takes little effort for him to restrain me and he easily pins my wrists above my head with one hand. He kisses my throat aggressively; the stubble from his unshaven cheeks rubs my neck raw and makes me recoil.

  “Seriously, Trevor, please stop.” My voice is more panicked than I’d anticipated.

  “I need you,” he says.

  My mind is racing. I can feel my throat tightening up. Why didn’t I lock the door? How did this person that I had loved so wholeheartedly, turn into someone that I’m totally terrified of?

  “Please,” I beg.

  I doubt that I could scream, even if I wanted to. I never would, of course. I’d never want Maisy to walk in and see me like this. One of his hands presses on my thigh, while the other slides under my tank top.

  “But I love you, Syd.” I just want him off of me. Just get off of me.

  “But, I don’t love you.” The words are stunning, even to my own ears as they tumble out of my mouth.

  Trevor jerks back; his crystal clear blue eyes are wide with surprise. His movement creates a small enough gap for me to slide out from under him and I scramble up and stand on the opposite side of the room.

  “I’m sorry…what?”

  “I told you that I needed some time,” I whisper. I’m trying to keep my voice low so Maisy doesn’t come down, but, also, I can’t muster up anything bigger.

  “And I gave it to you,” he says, categorically.

  “No, not really,” I say, staring at my intertwined fingers.

  He works his jaw back and forth.

  “So, that’s it?”

  “I—I guess so.”

  I can already hear the stories about how crazy I am for breaking up with someone so perfect. Or, maybe they’ll spin them to say that Trevor left me. No one would be the least bit surprised by that.

  “I could have done so much better,” he says callously. My gaze darts to him. He’s shaking his head, and his lips curve into a thin smirk. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time with you.”

  I can’t believe he’s turning what we had into something so meaningless. I can’t respond. I just stand there, frozen in the middle of the living room. The TV continues to flicker the opening sequence to the movie over and over. A large, red heart covers the screen. I’m terrified. I’m angry. I’m breaking. But the irony of the heart in this situation makes me crack the smallest of nervous smiles.

  Trevor catches it.

  “Are you laughing at me?” He steps closer.

  “No,” I say meekly. I look back down at my hands again. “I think you should go.”

  He continues toward me until I’m cornered against the wall. He hasn’t even touched me, but I immediately have to take smaller breaths. I look around him for an exit as I try to calm myself to make breathing easier.

  “Are you seriously laughing at me?” His forehead rests against mine. His eyes are locked on mine.

  I shake my head.

  “Who do you think you are, Sydney? You’re nothing. Do you think you’re special because of the whole gymnastics bit? You lost, remember? Or your stupid TV show? Or that people should feel sorry for you because your mom died? Because I’ll tell you something, nobody gives a damn about any of that—or you. You were nothing before me. Nothing.” He laughs a low, malicious scoff. I’ve never heard anything like it.

  I feel my legs start to shake. They’re strong, but they are going to give out. I’m sure of it.

  I try to speak. I try to tell him that he’s right. I am nothing. Just please go. But I can’t. My lips won’t cooperate.

  His eyes narrow and his rage is growing, even though I haven’t said a word.

  “Wait a second. You’re already involved with that asshole, aren’t you? That’s why you think you’re tough shit all of a sudden.” He reaches up and his hand presses on my airway.

  I stare at him. Blankly. Because what else can I do? I need to lie. Deny, I tell myself. Just deny it. But I’m too paralyzed by fear to do anything. I stand where I am. Mute. Defenseless.

  He tugs violently on my arm and flings me to the floor, not like the ball of muscle that I actually am, but like a ragdoll. I gasp from the pain as my face smacks into the hard wood floor. Our eyes lock again. I know that, despite all of his anger, the Trevor I’d originally loved is in there somewhere. And, as if on cue, his face softens a bit.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimper.

  “Syd—”

  “I’m really sorry things turned out this way,” I say. I’m dazed from the pounding in my head. This must be what it feels like to be the bad kind of drunk, when it’s not fun anymore.

  “I’m sorry too, baby. I just want things to get back to the way they were before…him.” Trevor reaches his hand out for me. He’s obviously misinterpreted my apology.

  “No,” I whisper. He cocks his head to the side in confusion. “We can’t go back, Trevor. And right now, I just need you to go.” I start to get up off the floor, but am knocked back down almost instantly by a fist to my face. I feel like my body is deflating. The pain is so staggering and so unexpected.

  I can’t be sure whether I lost consciousness or not. You don’t pass out from a single punch, do you? Still, it feels like a lot of time has passed since I heard the front door close.

  My face is throbbing. The room is swirly and I can’t stop the sound of blood pounding in my ears. I don’t have the energy to find a mirror to inspect the damage, and really, I don’t care. I know I’m a mess. I feel like there’s a massive weight on my chest, making it impossible to take anything but tiny, shallow breaths.

  I drag myself to the other side of the room. My iPhone is still on the coffee table where I’d left it after Maisy’s attempt at sneaking out. Could that have really just been a few hours ago? I think about calling Quinn, but it’s too much to have to explain. I can’t call Dad, he’d go crazy. I start to dial Grant’s number; he’s the one person that I won’t have to explain anything to. He’ll just be here. But just as I start to dial, the room starts to spin again. I send him a quick text before everything goes black.

  It’s simple. To the point. Just like Grant had been in his card with the pearls. I know he’ll understand.

  Mercy.

  -Twenty-four—

  Grant helps me to my bed and props a pillow up behind me.

  “All right, Quinn says Maisy can stay with her as long as you need. And your dad—”

  “Did you tell my dad?” I ask. I rub my temples, trying to soothe the ache in my head. It doesn’t help.

  “The hospital had to call to get authorization to treat you, Syd. I don’t know what all they told him.”

  “But he’s coming home, right?” I ask.

  Grant nods. I can’t believe this is my life.

  “What am I going to tell him?” I ask.

  He puckers his brow. “Why not the truth?”

  I wish it were that simple. The truth is ugly. And embarrassing.

  He reaches over and his hands cover mine, taking over for me, rubbing my head softly. His touch does help take the edge off and I finally close my eyes.

  “You don’t know how hard it is for me to sit here and look at you like this and not go and find him…” He lets his incensed voice trail off when he feels me stiffen.

  “He didn’t mean to,” I say softly. I really do believe that he didn’t intentionally hurt me like this.

  “Syd, don’t defend him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I can’t hold on to the tears anymore, and finally, I let them fall.

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he murmurs. “He hit you. He g
ave you a concussion. You didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice is soft again.

  “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

  “Stop.” We both stay quiet for a long time, until finally Grant clears his throat and speaks again.

  “What happened, Sydney?”

  I close my eyes and try to put the pieces together. I remember waking up and Trevor was there. I remember him backing me into the corner, but I couldn’t fully recall what had sparked the argument.

  “I don’t really remember.”

  “I can’t believe that he did this to you, Syd. Every single piece of me is screaming to go after him.” Grant’s shaking his head in disgust.

  I bite my lip nervously. “Please don’t.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” It’s not a promise that he won’t go and find Trevor later, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “When I found you lying on the floor, seeing you like that…”

  “How did you know to come over?”

  “You texted me.” He holds up his phone as proof. Now I remember. The text. Me conceding that I couldn’t do it anymore.

  “You can’t go back to him.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m serious Sydney, I know I said that I’d be here for you, and I will, but I really don’t know how to sit by knowing that you’re in danger…” his voice trails off as the door opens.

  Dad.

  -Twenty-five—

  Quinn sits behind me on my bed, intricately braiding my hair while we watch TV. We’re watching a ridiculous reality show that does little to distract me. It more so reminds me of the show that I was supposed to be a part of. The one I had to drop out of—Dad’s orders. Nothing that would cause me any stress for a while, he said. Luckily, Grant and his ‘connections’ made it a little easier to deal with.

  Quinn has been here day and night since “it” happened. Telling Quinn about Trevor had been easier than telling my Dad. Of course she was shocked, even though she’d been perceptive enough to realize that there was something ‘off’ about Trevor from the beginning. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t confide her. We’d been friends since we were kids —we’ve never kept secrets. I think that my silence hurt her more than she lets on.

  “I have something for you, although I’m not sure that you’ll want it,” Quinn says as she wraps a rubber band around the end of the braid.

  “What is it?” I ask, eyeing her nervously.

  She crosses the room and grabs her backpack. She reaches inside and pulls out a thick, hardcover burgundy book and hands it to me. My yearbook.

  “I had everyone sign it for you,” she says.

  “Thank you,” I say. “That was really awesome of you to do, you know, with you hating people and all.” I smile.

  “You know it!” Quinn laughs.

  I set the book on the bed next to me. I’m not sure I’m ready to remember the last school year. It had started out with such promise, and ended so abysmally.

  “Hey, Syd,” Quinn starts. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Course.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about this, and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but—why didn’t you fight back? You’re like the strongest chick I know. I mean, hello, those abs? You totally could’ve taken him. Hell, I would’ve done it for you!”

  I force a small smile for her benefit.

  “I just couldn’t,” I say. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just froze. I was too scared and too shocked, and just…paralyzed.”

  “I wish you would’ve told me.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I run my hand across the bumpy cover of the yearbook. “So, how are things at school?” I’m purposely being vague.

  “I kept my promise, if that’s what you’re asking – I didn’t say anything to him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hey, I can behave when I have to, no matter what you’ve heard!” She grins.

  “How…” I struggle with the next question. I have to know, but I know that she won’t like it. “How is he?”

  “Syd,” She hesitates. I nod, urging her to go on. “He’s Trevor. He’s fine, I guess. He’s been acting normal. Or at least like nothing is bothering him at all.”

  That doesn’t surprise me in the least. He’s able to continue with his normal life, while I’m stuck up in my room. Missing gym. Going to therapy.

  “Thanks.”

  “Listen, I hate to do this to you, but I’ve got to run home and grab a couple of things.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll be back in, like, an hour tops, though. You’ll be alright?”

  “Yes, Quinny, I’m totally fine. Get out of here.”

  I can’t wait for Dad to decide I can go back to gym. I just want normal. I’m so tired of feeling so helpless. I’ve spent the last year feeling this way.

  “Sydney.”

  I pull myself up. “Oh, hey, Dad.”

  “Listen Syd, I thought about what you said about pressing charges. And you have to understand, I’m your father—”

  I cut him off.

  “Dad, please. Please don’t make me go through that. Please. I just want to forget that this year ever happened. How am I supposed to do that if I’m forced to go through all that?”

  “I know, Syd. I know you’re scared. But my job is to protect you.”

  “I’m not scared. And you have protected me. If I file a formal complaint, everyone is going to find out. Everyone. It could totally sabotage my gymnastics career, not to mention my senior year of high school.” Dad frowns at me, but I’m not finished. “Look, Trevor will be leaving in a few weeks for school and I’ll never see him again.”

  Dad lets out a long sigh.

  “All right, Syd. If this is what you need to help you move on, we’ll play by your rules.” I know this has to be hard on him. After losing my mom, and then seeing me hurt, he’s been through a lot.

  “Get some rest, Syd.” He pats my knee and I feel like I’m twelve and home sick with the flu.

  I lie back down and close my eyes. I haven’t heard from Grant all week. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t tear at my heart a little. He gave me advance warning at least that he’d be lying low, that he wanted to give me some space, and time to clear my head. But I don’t feel like I need it. I don’t want to be away from him. And I’ve spent the last several months feeling so uncertain about everything. I just don’t feel that anymore.

  Although Dad is rightfully cautious about another guy in my life, he’s really taken to Grant and seems indebted to him once I’d explained how he’d helped me.

  “Sydney.” The nearby whisper terrifies me. I bite my bottom lip to stop its quivering. My eyes fly open.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Grant says softly. He’s standing near the foot of the bed, unshaven, unruly hair and a plain t-shirt. Just the way I like him.

  “You didn’t wake me. I was just…you scared me,” I admit.

  His eyes flash with a mixture of anger and regret. He never did confront Trevor, at least not that I know of. It’s left him conflicted; he wants to do what I say will make me happy, but everything in him is telling him to make Trevor pay.

  “Right. I’m sorry.”

  “Sit.” I pat the bed lightly and he takes a seat next to me.

  “You look good, Syd.” Translation: no more swollen jaw. No more black eye. “I’ve missed you.”

  “What’s the matter?” I ask quietly.

  “I just…” He’s having trouble saying whatever it is that he came to say. I feel myself start to tense up.

  “It’s okay. I understand,” I say.

  “Understand what?”

  “I understand that it’s just too much. Me…all of this, it’s too much for you. I get it, and trust me, I don’t blame you.” And I really don’t. I’ve put this guy through hell.

  “Not even close, Syd. I’ve already told you, I want you. You have to know that I want you more than anything. But I want you to want t
o be with me.”

  “I do want to be with you,” I respond quickly.

  “The thing is, I don’t want you to fall into another relationship just because it’s here or it’s easy. You need to worry about making yourself happy first. You try so hard to please everyone else all of the time and it just can’t go on like that.”

  I know what I want. He’s sitting right in front of me. But what he just said— makes him sound like a parrot on my therapist’s shoulder. Which likely means that he’s right. Damn.

  “I need for you to be sure that it’s what you really want. I don’t want you to second-guess yourself and think you moved too quickly once we were together.” He laces his fingers through mine. They are a perfect fit.

  His eyes are thoughtful as he continues. “I don’t know if I’d be able to let you go once I had you, Sydney.”

  His words are too much. The emotion tearing through me is like nothing I’ve experienced before.

  “Then why did you come today?” I ask.

  He looks around the room. The walls are barer than the last time he was here. No prom photos, no gifts from Trevor on display.

  “What is it?” I push.

  “I came to say goodbye.” Grant’s words make me have to stop and catch my breath. “I’m leaving to stay with my brother in the city tomorrow.”

  “How long are you going to be gone?” My voice is cracking.

  “Two months.” Two months? Two whole months without those eyes? That messy, perfect hair? That smile that cures everything and makes me trust like nothing else?

  “I don’t want you to go,” I whimper. I bite my lip and consider my next question.

  “What is it?” he asks. He leans over and nips at my bottom lip, turning the pout into a grin.

  “So, does what you said about wanting to kiss me every time we’re together still stand?”

  He doesn’t hesitate.

  “It does now. It will when I get back.”

  And he kisses me. Softly at first, and then, cupping my face in his long hands and really, really kissing me. Melting every bit of doubt and sadness in me.

  “So, I’m supposed to take all this time apart to convince you that I do, in fact, want you. What if you don’t want me by then?”

  He laughs softly. “That won’t happen.”

 

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