Pulled

by Danielle Bannister

  I hang my head in shame. Etash is so quiet that I can actually hear a drop of water fall into his kitchen sink.

  “I think I’d go nuts too if I just lost my parents,” he says eventually. “In fact, I think you’d be heartless not to.”

  I chuckle sadly. How did he know the absolute right thing to say? I wipe the newest tears that have fallen down my cheek and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

  “A few weeks after I was placed with Harold and Tina, I was still having the panic attacks, so they brought me to a doctor who stuck me on all kinds of drugs.”

  Absently, I check back in on my friends outdoors, but they have both vanished along with the food.

  “After awhile though,” I continue, “I stopped taking them because I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care that my parents were dead, I didn't care that I was alive, I didn't care about anything.”

  “What changed?” he asks so gently that I actually feel sorry for him having to listen to me whine. I wipe my face clean and focus hard on the large oak tree outside, trying to center myself.

  “How do I say this without sounding lame?” Frowning, I turn and face him. “I found acting. As corny as that sounds, acting was an escape. An escape from everything: from Harold and Tina, from the memories; from the pain. It was a chance to step out of my own life for a moment and live someone else's.”

  A gentle pull forms in my chest, and it makes me realize that I've upset him, that he's hurting right now along with me.

  It seems cruel of me to be so far away from him, so I push off from the window and sink back into the couch beside him. His arms are instantly around me, pulling me down onto his chest, as though relieved to be able to do something to comfort me.

  “So, you're not taking any medication now?” he asks after a few minutes.

  “Well, I hadn't been up until a week or so before college started. I was getting nervous, you know? About measuring up, proving myself, making my parents proud.” Another tear falls.

  His face is tight, thinking hard about something.

  “That night, at the theatre, was that a black out?”

  “Yeah,” I confess. Damn medicine.

  “So, was that the last time you took your medicine?” he asks, really seeming interested in my answer.

  “Yes.”

  His face contorts into an expression of deep pain for a moment before pushing the thought away.

  “Come on, let's get you some breakfast,” he says, putting on a forced smile.

  Just the mention of food makes me feel ravenous, so I wrap the blanket tightly around my body and waddle into the kitchen like a giant burrito and watch as he makes scrambled eggs and toast.

  When he puts the plate in front of me I devour everything in sight.

  “Not to pressure you,” Etash says after we've finished, “but you still haven't told me what happened last night.”

  I sigh and push away from the table, bring my dishes to the sink. “He had too much to drink,” I begin. I turn on the hot water and squirt some soap in. Etash brings his plate over to me and I take it from him with a foamy hand. “When I asked him to stop and he didn't, my knee sort of found his groin.”

  Etash cringes.

  “Yeah, he was pretty pissed about that,” I say, cringing for far different reasons.

  “What happened then?” He reaches out, touches my shoulder, turning me toward him.

  “I ran,” I shrug. “He was drunk, that’s all.” I can’t even think about what might have happened had I not gotten out of there when I did. I just can’t.

  “I know you’re not telling me everything, and that’s okay. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.” He lets go of my shoulder and grabs a dish towel and starts to dry my plate. “We've got nothing but time now.”

  I glance at him sideways, still scrubbing a plate. “How can you be so sure?”

  “It doesn’t take an expert to see you’re scared of him,” he says, but I shake my head.

  “No, not about that. About us having nothing but time,” I ask in all honesty. “How do you know that I won't go back to him?”

  His expression changes to one of pain and I instantly regret my words.

  “Why don’t we finish these up, then we can go for a walk and I’ll tell you about my grandma.”

  “Your grandma?” What does she have to do with anything?

  “Yeah. She kind of has a theory about us.”

  Etash

  Before we head out, I try and find her some warmer clothes. What I come up with isn’t much better in terms of fit, but they will hold up better to the brisk morning air.

  When she comes out of the bathroom, she starts laughing at how ridiculous she thinks she looks, but I think she is positively stunning. She's pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and a few dark strands fall around her face. The thick sweatshirt I gave her, although loose, still manages to show off her petite figure. When she lifts up the sweatshirt casually to show me how big the pants are, I can't help but notice the velvety, ivory skin surrounding her perfectly shaped navel.

  We walk through the City Park, not stopping until we come to the duck pond. I sit down on the banking and reach up to take her hand and pull her down beside me.

  “My grandma’s name is Naimi,” I say after a moment. I’m careful to pronounce it properly: Naya-me.

  “Naimi?” she repeats, clearly hearing the similarity.

  “Yeah, eerie right? It means ‘belonging to one.’ She's Indian, too. She actually lived in India her whole life until a few years ago, when she needed more care. She lived with us for awhile, but when things got worse, we had to put her in a home.” I shift uncomfortably on the grass before continuing. “I got close to her while she was living with us. She didn’t speak fluent English at first, but she knew enough to get by.

  “Anyway, I was in high school when she first moved in with us, and I was…a bit of a loner, you could say.” Naya gently strokes my hand with her thumb again, urging me on. “I remember I used to come home from school every day and just sit with her, hardly ever saying anything. It just felt good to sit beside her, you know? Comfortable.” Like how we are now, I want to say, but I don't want to risk ruining the moment.

  “I didn’t have a lot of friends back then; the scar kinda saw to that.” She frowns at me. “It was a lot worse then,” I say. “And there was this girl. Jessica. She was in my math class, and I thought I loved her.” Back when I didn’t know a thing about love.

  “So, one day, I got brave and asked her to the prom.” I shake my head, remembering. “She turned me down flat. She didn’t need to tell me why she said no. The way her eyes couldn’t manage to look me in the eye clued me in pretty quick.”

  “That must have been awful,” she whispers.

  “Yeah, I was pretty down that day. But when I went to sit next to Grams that night, she could sense that I was sad, but she told me I didn’t need to worry. She said my Twin Flame would come soon enough.”

  Cat’s out of the bag. Let’s see how nuts she thinks I am.

  “Your Twin Flame?”

  I exhale heavily. Here we go.

  “Yeah. According to my Grams, when your soul enters the ‘physical world,’ it splits itself into two pieces: male and female. Supposedly, those two halves then spend the rest of eternity searching for their other half. It can take decades, she claims, sometimes longer, before they are reunited.”

  “Like some kind of soul mate?”

  I exhale again, frustrated. “Um, no, it's actually a lot deeper than that. I'm not explaining it very well.”

  Slipping my hand out of hers I stand and hurl a rock across the pond.

  “It’s all a bunch of mumbo-jumbo,” I say. “I don’t believe any of it. Or didn’t,” I whisper, hoping she didn't hear that. I grab another stone and toss it into the water.

  Across the pond a patch of angry, dark clouds are pushing themselves against the fading blue sky overhead. I hold out my hand to her, and she takes it willingly. “Let’s
go. It looks like rain again.”

  We walk in silence out of the park. Once we’re on the sidewalk leading up to my apartment, the questions begin.

  “You said she used to live with you, then she got worse?”

  I nod. “She was getting delusional. She kept having ‘visions’ as she called them.”

  “Visions?”

  How to explain this? “She thinks she can see the future,” I sigh. “She’s on medication now to help control it. Most days she’s fine, but others…”

  She nods, but I can’t make out what she’s thinking.

  “I never knew my grandparents. You’re very lucky to have her.”

  I nod again. “Yeah, I am. I’m supposed to visit her again soon...”

  She stops walking. “But now you can’t because you have to baby-sit me.”

  I shake my head at her. “What I was going to say, is would you want to come with me?"

  “Oh.” She blushes. “Um, yeah, I would, actually.”

  “Great,” I beam.

  We start walking again but there's a bigger question on my mind; one that I know will have to be asked, but one that I really don’t want the wrong answer to.

  “Naya, don’t take this the wrong way, but what happens now?”

  “Now...” She gives a weak smile to the sky. “Now…I guess I go back.” She tries to hold back a shiver, but she's not fooling me.

  “You don't have to,” I say. I swear I see hope flicker in her eyes. “You can stay here.”

  A look of confusion sets in her face, but then she frowns.

  “I have to go back,” she finally says, and my heart sinks. “After all, if I'm gonna be staying with you, I'll need to at least get my clothes,” she adds, smiling at me, making me feel downright giddy.

  I tug playfully against the baggy sweatshirt of mine that she’s wearing.

  “What? This look doesn’t work for you?” I ask. She raises her eyebrows up and rolls her eyes at me. “Well, then it’s settled,” I say. “You give me your keys and I’ll pack you a bag.”

  “That's a really tempting offer, but you wouldn’t know where anything is,” she says simply.

  We walk for a moment longer.

  “How long a stay are we talking?” she asks.

  Forever, I want to say, but I’m afraid the truth might scare her off, so I settle for “as long as you want.”

  “Then I guess I should pack my books too.”

  As soon as we get back to my apartment, we load into my car and head back to campus. I want her out of that place, now. Driving back to campus, she keeps her hand tucked neatly in mine.

  When we get to the dorms, her light-hearted conversation in the car ride over has died off. Her hand slips out of mine and she sinks lower in her seat; like she's afraid of getting caught with me. There is so much more about her relationship with that animal that she hasn’t told me yet. I just hope when she does finally tell me, I don’t rip his head off.

  Chapter 12

  Naya

  My hands tremble as I put the key in the lock. Even though I know it's impossible for Seth to be waiting for me in there, I still can't help but shake the fact that reminders of him will be all over the place.

  The first thing I smell when I open the door is his cologne, and my muscles tense from the memories. But he's not here. It's just an empty room. Just as I left it. My bed is still made, my books still scattered about, my pjs on a clump on the floor. Even though this room holds all of my stuff, I can't get over how alien it feels. I don't belong here.

  “I don’t know what to pack,” I say, needing to break the silence.

  “Just pack the essentials. If we need to come back again, we will. Do you have a bag?”

  “Um, yeah.” I walk slowly over to my bed and look underneath it. There's a half-finished beer can in front of the bag. I push it out of the way, which only succeeds in knocking it over, spilling its stale scent under my bed.

  “Okay, clothes,” I say with more courage than I have. Pulling cloths off hangers as fast as I can to get out of this miserable space, I notice small red dried dots of blood next to my dresser, just a few inches from where Etash is standing.

  My blood. From the last lashing. Quickly, I rush out of the closet and toss my bag down, covering the spots. He can't know about this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I'm not sure if I will ever trust anyone enough to tell this secret.

  “Done,” I say, hoping to sound more convincing than I feel.

  “Not so fast,” he says, reaching down and picking up my backpack. I hold my breath, waiting. “You haven't packed your books,” he says, smiling.

  As he goes over to my bed to gather my books, I drag my crumpled up pjs over with the tip of my toe and place the heap over the evidence.

  Once he's crammed the last of the books in, I take one last look around the room and decide, right then and there, that I never want to come back.

  Etash takes my bag and my hand and walks me to the elevator. As it descends I can feel the tension rolling off of me in waves. I'm free.

  When the elevator doors open, my heart leaps into my throat. There, standing in the lobby, talking to a big busted blond girl named Monica, is Seth.

  Etash

  I push Naya behind me instinctively, and the noise of the shuffle causes Seth to turn around. His entire body tenses as he stares me down, fully taking in my hand clasped inside hers. She tries to pull away from me, but I won’t let her go.

  “Don't tell me you’re with scar face now?” Seth chides. Scar-face. Real original.

  “That’s not funny,” Naya defends with an odd mouse-like voice.

  “It wasn’t meant to be,” he hisses.

  “Let’s go, Naya,” I say quietly in her ear, gently grabbing hold of her arm.

  Seth storms over to me and grabs a fist full of my shirt. “Hands off my girl, freak.”

  “She’s not your girl,” I spit.

  He surprises me by letting me go, but when he does he pushes me hard, which causes me to stumble back onto the floor, a few feet from Naya. Before I’m able to get back on my feet he’s got his hands on either side of her face whispering softly to her. I push myself off the floor, anger pulsating in my veins that he’s touching her. But when I get closer to them, I can hear what he’s saying.

  “Baby, please, please forgive me. I was an ass last night. I was just so nervous,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Naya, I wanted to do this the right way last night, but the wine must have gone to my head. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. You're the best thing that's happened to me, and I promise to do better if you just give me a chance.” Naya starts crying. Please tell me she's not falling for this?

  “Naya,” he pleads. He gets down on one knee and pulls out a little black box. “I know the timing of this is all wrong, but I want you to marry me.” He starts kissing her hand, causing me to fall limp to my knees; an intense feeling of hopelessness washes over me.

  Tears are cascading down her cheeks. She’s going to say yes to him. She’s going to say yes, and my entire world is going to be destroyed. My body starts convulsing watching his hands caress her arms, then up and through her hair.

  “Naya,” I whimper, too softly for her to hear, but yet, miraculously, she does. Her eyes look up and find mine and it’s as though she’s been awoken from a spell. She smiles weakly at me, then looks back to Seth.

  “I can’t …” she squeaks. She pushes back from Seth, who looks up at her, dumbfounded, too stunned by the rejection to react.

  Naya runs over to me, takes my hand and starts pulling me out the door. The whole time I'm just looking at her with my mouth agape. She just turned him down.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Positive,” she says. “Now, let's go.”

  “Naya!” Seth bellows, coming back to his senses.

  I'm about to turn around to defend her, but she pulls hard against my arm, dragging me forward.

  “Let’s just go. Now.”
<
br />   She runs out of the dorm and throws herself into my car and pushes the lock down. I follow suit, looking up in time to see Seth storming after me out of the lobby. His chest is heaving in anger. The look he gives me is one of sheer loathing.

  “Go,” she orders.

  “This isn’t over, Naya!” he shouts. “I know you love me! This isn’t over!”

  She starts sobbing, and I peel out of the parking lot, needing to get her as far away from this place, and her past, as possible.

  Even after we’re off campus grounds, I can’t stop looking in the rear-view mirror waiting for a car to come speeding up behind us. I’m careful to check without her noticing.

  Pulling into the driveway, I kill the engine.

  “Did he follow us?” she asks.

  “No.”

  She nods in understanding but she's shaking.

  I help her out of the car and up the stairs. Setting her up on the couch, I grab a blanket and wrap it around her. I even turn the heat up, hoping against hope that it’s just the chill in the air making her shake so. She reaches out and pats the couch beside her.

  “You don't have to be afraid anymore,” I soothe, sitting next to her. “I'm not going to let him lay another finger on you.” She pops her head up and gives me an unreadable look. “I know he hits you.” She takes a small intake of air, her mouth opens, but no words come out.

  “You don't have to hide it anymore, or be embarrassed by it. I'll protect you.” I expect her to try and deny it, to continue to hide. But she doesn't.

  “It's worse than that,” she whispers, so softly that I barely catch it. I reach out for her hand, but she brushes it aside and stands up. She lets out a long controlled breath, before she pulls off her sweatshirt leaving her in just her bra. I’m so shocked by what she’s doing that I don’t see what she’s trying to show me.

  It’s only when she turns her back to me and clutches the shirt in a tight ball covering her front, that I realize what she’s doing. She’s showing me her back. At first I don’t understand, but when she straightens herself from her hunched position, I see it. Light pink slash marks zigzagging all along her upper back.