by Nicole Thorn
Bennett let me into his house, and I went right to his bedroom, passing his laughing parents in the kitchen. They watched something on her phone, and it was apparently so funny that Mrs. Cow cried her stupid eyes out. Good for her. I hoped she choked on that laugh.
I sat on the edge of Bennett’s bed while he sank into his desk chair. He swung back and forth, knocking my foot with his while I went on and on and on about how I felt.
“They won’t let me back at the center,” I told him. “Not until six weeks of counseling. But I can get Dr. Hastings to do that for me. No need to drag down two professionals in my wake.”
Bennett knocked my foot three times before he sighed and spoke to me. “Are you doing okay? I mean…” He looked up at the ceiling. “Of course you’re not okay, but… are you at least better?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I keep thinking about how sad her boyfriend would be if he knew she did what she did. Two horrible things happened, and nothing can fix them. There are four parents mourning two kids who died too young and for awful reasons.”
Bennett’s eyebrows pushed together, and he laced his fingers across his stomach, leaning back in his chair. “Would any reason at that age be not awful?”
I shook my head.
“Maybe they’re together now,” Bennett said. “Maybe somewhere in this ever-expanding universe, their souls found each other, and they’re okay.”
What a beautiful thought, but I didn’t buy it. I still smiled. “You are so romantic, Benny.”
He smirked. “Yeah, my cup runneth over with romance.”
“It does,” I said with mock offense. “You are very romantic. You always say the sweetest things, and you cuddle me…” My smile grew. “You always make sure I come before you. Several times.”
I watched him blush, and I got onto the floor. His eyes followed me as I crawled over to him. Slowly, I got onto my knees, and put my hands on his to slide them up his thighs.
“What are you doing?” he asked, deadpanning.
I still smiled as I ran my hand up his inner thigh, feeling pleasant hardness under his jeans. A quick one, he was. “Nothing.”
“Layla,” he said, making my name sound like a warning. “You’re upset right now.”
I ignored him, going for his zipper. I pulled it down and looked up at him through my lashes. “I’m not. I want to make you feel good.”
Gently, he pulled my hands off of him. “Please, don’t do this when you’re sad. I don’t want to be this for you. It’s making something beautiful very ugly.”
My lips pressed together in a hard line before I huffed. “You let me fuck you twice last night, among several other things we did. Why not now? Why are you deciding that we can’t do this?”
He blinked and held onto my hands, now lacing our fingers together. “Last night I didn’t get much of a chance to refuse, but I should have done it anyway. I don’t want to be the person you drown your sorrows in.”
I felt my forehead wrinkle as my patience started running thinner and thinner. “But this is what we do. We make each other feel better.”
“Yes,” he said with a sad smile. “We do. But I don’t want to feel like you only sleep with me to distract yourself from something painful.” He paused, and it looked like dawn broke on his face. “Unless… Well…” He looked at his lap. “Is that the only reason you do it? Because you don’t want to feel anything for a while?”
My voice caught in my throat, and misery smacked me in the face at the thought that he believed this. So I broke my hands away from him to hold his face up. “Bennett,” I said softly. “Don’t for one fucking second think that I don’t love when I’m with you. If we’re watching TV or sitting in the back yard or screwing. There’s not a second I spend with you that doesn’t make me happy. It’s not just sex to me or a distraction. I do it because I love being connected to you. So don’t you dare think differently.”
To emphasize, I pulled the boy down to me and laid my lips over his. I kissed him like he deserved to be kissed: with all the love and affection I felt for him but couldn’t say out loud. I hoped that he could still feel it.
“I love you, Layla,” he told me when I let go of him. Before I could stammer for a response, he smiled. “Don’t say anything. I just wanted to tell you.”
I smiled, and nodded. God, I loved him so much.
When the door opened, I was still on my knees in front of Bennett. It could have been worse, but this didn’t look all that bad. I thought… I mean, I would have had to be much closer to do what I had been planning, but his whore mother still looked upset by where I was.
“Hello, Layla,” she said with the most plastic smile I’d ever seen. “How are you today?”
I got up onto my feet, also smiling. “I listened to a girl kill herself yesterday, but I’ve had worse days.”
She sneered uncomfortably. “I’m sure…” She looked to her son. “Bennett, you have chores to do today before your father and I get home. Make sure you do them right this time.”
Because I hated how she talked to him, I cut in, still grinning defiantly. “How about I help you out, Benny? We can do it together.”
“Uhh,” he said, his mouth hanging open.
“Layla,” his mother said, her hand gripping the doorknob. “You are so sweet, but we don’t let guests clean for us. Bennett is perfectly capable of doing it on his own.” She smiled at him. “He’s a good boy.”
Yeah, so good that you beat him. I wasn’t buying her smile or sticky sweet voice. “I know he is. He’s probably the sweetest human being on the planet.”
She nodded. “A very good boy,” she said. “We’re quite proud of him.”
Bennett perked up, looking at her like a puppy obsessed with his owner. “Huh?”
His mom laughed. “Why do you look like that surprises you, sweetheart? Of course your father and I are proud of you. Not many people your age know what they want to do with their life. Or can even write one book. How many do you have done now?”
“Eight,” he said, very timidly.
She smiled wider. “Wow. I should get your dad to pick a place and take you out sometime. Maybe this weekend.”
Ugh, did she really think I would believe she was this nice? Bennett seemed happy with the attitude she gave him. This was clearly that nice side that he thought was worth keeping her out of prison for. I didn’t care if she clothed all the homeless in the state. I wanted her to rot in jail and never to be heard of again.
“But,” she clapped her hands once, still smiling. “Chores. Just vacuum and sweep, and you’re done.” She turned her smile to me then. “Maybe you should head home so he can get started. It sounds like you had a rough day.”
“Nah,” I waved my hand. “I really have had worse. I mean, I’ve had days where I was savagely beaten. Strangled, thrown around. You name it.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open, the same way Bennett’s did. I wanted to gag. “What?” she asked.
I nodded. I knew she knew who I was. “Yup. Since I was a kid. Thankfully, I got away from the situation.”
The woman blinked. “Good. That sounds awful.” I didn’t miss her eyes flickering to Bennett.
“It is,” I agreed. “No one should hurt children. No matter what reason they think they have.”
My voice was hard enough to get her attention, and I watched all sympathy fade out of her face. She looked to Bennett again, and my stomach sank. Oh, fuck, what did I just do? If she thought I knew, then she would assume he told me. I couldn’t imagine the punishment for that.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said to me, controlling her expression better now. “Bennett really has a lot to do. How about you come over tomorrow?”
I turned back to him, fear in my eyes. I didn’t want to leave him here now, knowing what she might do for my epic fuck up. He would suffer because of me, and Dr. Hastings couldn’t even deny that one.
“She’s right,” Bennett said, nothing to his voice. “I have a lot to do.”
Fuck.
“Benny,” I said, trying to smile. “I really don’t mind helping you.”
He stood up and shook his head. “No need. I’ll call you later.”
I didn’t want to go, but Bennett led me to his front door and opened it. Soon, I stood on the porch, being forced to say goodbye.
“Ben,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He smiled, and then he kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing is going to happen. I promise.”
I shuffled on my feet, searching for a reason to stay. “You swear?”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding at ease. “She’s in a good mood. I’ll be fine.”
He was not fine.
Bennett
closed the door, wishing I didn’t kick Layla out of my house. If I was very careful, I would be fine. If not… then I didn’t want to think about how this day was going to end. Not as well as yesterday did.
Layla’s sadness always cut me deeply. I loved her so much, and knowing I couldn’t make her feel better was like a kick to the teeth. And I’d gotten that, so I felt like I had the right to make that comparison. I also felt like I should have some kind of ability to soothe her because we were soulmates. Something in us should connect without needing words. But that was somehow lost between us. Maybe we would get there one day.
I turned around, and my father was walking up to Mom’s side. He sighed, and looked at the door. “The kid leave?”
I nodded.
Dad looked to Mom who stared wide eyed at the floor, her thumbnail between her teeth. Worry creased her face as she stood there, and Dad put his arm around her shoulders. “What’s up, honey?”
She shrugged his arm off of her, and put her hands on her hips. “I think our son is trying to start some trouble.”
Dad’s eyebrow moved up. “Is he?”
“No,” I said to Dad. “I’m not starting anything at all.”
Mom huffed. “Why was your girlfriend saying that shit, Bennett? About getting hit?”
Dad took a deep breath as he stared at me. “Really, Ben? What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t tell her anything,” I lied. “She saw the bruises on me and made some guesses. I told her I was in a car accident.”
My mom fumed, but she didn’t say a word. It looked like she was deep in thought as she watched the carpet.I could see all of the kindness from before as it leaked out of her. She was officially in a mood. I couldn’t tell if it was an angry one or a sad one. I supposed I would be finding out soon.
“She probably doesn’t know anything then,” Dad said to my mom. “She’s just a mouthy kid, Jen.”
Mom made a face. “Mouthy kids can ruin a lot of things. What if she decides to go exaggerating to the police? I can go to jail, and they won’t believe me. They’ll take the word of the little victim girl over me because she’s famous. Then it’ll be all over the news.” Mom buried her face in Dad’s chest, and he rubbed her back.
I tensed at the things she said about Layla. Victim wasn’t a good word for her. She never played that card, even when she knew she could get away with it. I hated anyone saying anything bad about her. Like those people that showed Wilson and me the interview video. Anger sparked in me when I looked back at my mother.
“She’s not going to do anything,” I said, less emotion in my voice now. “She cares about me too much to mess up my life like that.”
Mom looked back at me, and her eyes hardened. “I bet you told her all about how your awful mother hurts you, and you never deserve it. I bet you didn’t tell her how you behave or how you treat us.”
I felt another twinge of something in me that I couldn’t recognize. I thought it might have been contempt. Layla said I didn’t deserve what I got, and I had a hard time believing her. But something about the way my mother said that…
She left my father and started walking toward the hall that led to my room. I knew what was coming before I even started following her. Dad stayed where he was.
Mom was tearing up my room when I got to her, and I thanked God my laptop was put away to where she couldn’t see it. The most she could do was throw my clothes and bedding around. Which she did.
“God, you’re rotten!” she shrieked. “I do nothing but take care of you, and all you do is spit in my face! You are an ungrateful little bastard!”
It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. I was a leech, worthless, spoiled, disrespectful. I stood there while Mom got her aggression out. I probably wouldn’t even get hit.
“Why do you do this to me?!” she screamed as she picked up my desk lamp and threw it at my head. I ducked, barely avoiding a concussion as the lamp flew through the air. It broke against my wall, and the ceramic body shattered instantly, leaving gashes on the wallpaper.
She always hated when I ducked…
“You little brat!” She shoved me by the shoulders, and I stumbled back and hit my dresser. The corner jabbed at my side, and it felt like I’d been stabbed. I would be surprised if I didn’t break the skin.
I went down hard, and my knee landed on a shard of my lamp. It tore through the denim of my jeans, and a bright red trail of blood blossomed under the tear. Blood ran down my knee and dripped onto my carpet while I tried to push myself back up.
It shouldn’t have hurt, but when my mom grabbed one of my pillows, and started hitting me over the head with it, my head bashed into the floor. My ears rang, and my body decided to stop moving and let her finish hitting me. It was only a pillow.
“You have NO IDEA how good you have it!” she yelled, dropping the pillow to move on to something else. I prayed that she wouldn’t open the desk. My laptop had everything on it, and I couldn’t afford another one.
She went to my closet, and I was fine with that as I tried standing up again. My knee stung when it touched the carpet, but I managed to get on my feet. Mom ripped my clothes from the hangers and threw them all across the room. At least it wasn’t the backyard this time. Last time, I had to wash the mud out of every article of clothing I owned.
Everything was relatively fine until she went for the nightstand. “After EVERYTHING we do for you,” she hissed as her hands went to the back of it. She shoved it away, and the wood broke against the floor. Everything I had in the drawers spilled out over the floor… which wouldn’t have mattered if an opened box of condoms didn’t fall out too.
Mom froze, and her eyes went right to them as they lay out on the floor. “What are those?”
I opened my mouth before I knew what to say to her. “I… I thought…” I ran out of words.
Mom nodded and put her hands on her hips as she glared at me. “Oh, I get it now. Some little whore comes along, and she’s the only thing that matters. She lets you get your dick wet, so you let her walk all over you.”
It came back again, that contempt-like feeling, all directed at my mother. “She’s not a whore,” I said between my teeth. “We’re in love.”
Mom scoffed at me and smacked the back of my head. I ignored the sting. “You’re so fucking stupid. You’re a kid, and you don’t know what love is. Just because a slut lets you fuck her doesn’t mean she loves you. Think, Bennett,” she growled.
I had done more thinking than I should have. Layla had to love me because I could see it in her eyes. I loved her, and she loved me, simple as that. It didn’t matter what my mother thought, because she couldn’t see the things that I saw, and she didn’t know Layla like I did. She wasn’t a whore at all. Layla had only been with me, and she didn’t pick me randomly. It was because she wanted me.
“Don’t say that about her,” I said between my teeth.
Mom laughed at me. “Why? Because you think you know better than me? What the hell do you know about life? You think you know everything you need to know, and that I’m some monster that wants you miserable. Is that what you told that girl?”
“I didn’t tell her anything,” I lied again. “She’s smart. She figured it out on
her own.”
“Did she? Did she!” Mom went back to my closet and yanked a wire hanger down, watching me almost the whole time.
I had brief flashes to when I was little before she got the tennis racket to use on me. I’d gotten a wire hanger to my bare skin more times than I could count, but it was so long ago that the scars stretched and thinned out enough to almost be completely hidden. Layla didn’t even notice them. If Mom was bringing this back… I didn’t want to be here for it.
I started running out of my room, remembering all too clearly what it felt like for the metal to hit my skin. How it stung and how long the welts lasted. It was so hard to sleep when my back was all messed up. So I ran faster.
Dad stood in the kitchen, staring at the floor when I came in. I wanted to go for the door, but my mind raced while I tried to figure out what to do. I couldn’t go to Layla because she would call the police. I didn’t have anywhere I could go where I could make sure Mom didn’t get in trouble.
But it didn’t matter because I couldn’t run as fast as she could.
The hanger cut into my back, stopping me dead in my tracks. I tripped and landed on my hands, but the hits didn’t stop coming. Mom didn’t give me the chance to get up. Too many hits to my back.
I groaned when she kicked me in the side, right where I slammed into my dresser. I had to be bleeding now, and I would wake up with more than a handful of bruises.
Layla. I thought of her while my mom took her aggression out. Layla would be so upset when she saw me next, and she would blame herself for this. It was tempting to avoid her for a little while because of it. I didn’t want her to worry even more. She deserved much better than me… Maybe that was the real reason she didn’t want us to be official. She knew deep down that I wasn’t good enough for her. I couldn’t grudge her that.
Mom wouldn’t stop screaming the entire time, and all I could do was curl up and cover my head with my hands. Another hit to my head might send me to the hospital, and Mom hated it when I had to get checked out. Or, I could risk it and go to sleep like normal tonight. But I thought of Layla’s reaction if I didn’t wake up again. She was devastated by the death of that girl who called her, and she was a stranger. Layla loved me, if she knew it or not. If I died, she would crumble.