Reading it was.
I dozed off, not because the book I was reading wasn’t good, it was about an Irish mob dude forced to marry this hot Italian boss chick. The shit was raw, and if I wasn’t so fucking exhausted, I would have read more. As it was, I awoke to the sound what I knew had to be a dream, or someone better pray it was.
“Did you know he didn’t even come to her funeral? Was that your doing?” Matty slurred. See, he had to be on that drink to think it was cool for him to step in my house after what happened the other morning and throw accusations at my girl. I jumped up with the intent to split his shit when Harley’s question stopped me in my tracks.
“Did you know your father abused him for years and he hates him? Was that your doing?” she asked, her voice controlled and strong. Her saying that should have pissed me off. She was telling shit I was sure Matty knew, but still, it was my shit to tell. But her voice, the protectiveness in it, it made my dick swell a little bit, with pride, lust, and...a new feeling I didn’t know the name of.
Fuck, no one has ever stood up for me. Shit, I was supposed to be standing up for her, helping her fight her battles and shit, and here she was, this fragile girl, squaring up with Matty in my corner. Yeah, I was getting harder just listening to her.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Matty’s voice was laced with defensiveness and anger. The little bitch did know. I opened the door to put my foot up his ass for talking to her like that just as Har was trying to kick him out. Fuck that, I’m up now; I got this.
“Why the fuck are you here?” I stepped into the living room ready to let him know. He was standing in the middle of the room trying to pull off a Royce stance, and Harley had her back to the door, hand on the knob like she was ready to bolt at any fucking minute. The sight caused me to knuckle up.
Neither of them spoke at first; Harley had a mixture of relief and nervousness on her face, and Matty had wonderment on his. The fuck?
“Hello? Am I fucking invisible?” I hated asking shit twice.
“He came to see you,” Harley blurted, like my anger was toward her. But given how I’ve been acting lately, it’s understandable she’d think that. I’m a fucker, and I needed to fix that, but first things first.
“I’m here, talk.” I looked at Matty who was still staring at me as if I had two fucking heads or some shit.
“What?” I asked again, getting impatient as shit, this whole staring thing was getting old as fuck.
“Nothing, I came to say bye. I’m going home today,” he mumbled, coming out of his fog. I wasn’t stupid; his real reason would stay a mystery because I couldn’t care less.
“Bye,” I said as Harley walked over to the kitchen, easing her way out the room. Smooth.
“Can we just cut the bullshit for once?” Matty implored. I had thought he was drunk, but he looked stone cold sober now.
“What?” I asked again. I really didn’t have time for this; I had shit to do.
“Is it true, what Harley said?” He looked so innocent at that moment. Just like the annoying little boy I used to let follow me every fucking where and who I taught how to swing a bat. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to suck my nuts, and be gone, but I was still trying to protect him from the truth that he already knew.
“You know the answer, why play dumb?”
“So it’s true?” He shook his head like the shit was shocking to him.
“Deklan, I…” He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. No witty fucking comeback, no asshole remark. Was it possible he didn’t know? No, he had to, what with the way Royce spoke to me in front of Matty; he had to know. This was a front, fuck him, he knew.
“You’re what, Matty? Sorry it’s getting thrown in your face? Sorry Royce didn’t beat me more? What?” I all but yelled, my blood boiling with the audacity of how far he’d go to protect Royce.
“I didn’t know.” And for a second, a split fucking second, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that when a teacher called social services because of my unexplained bruises that he hadn’t told the lady I’d been making it all up when she came to the house to talk to him. That was the same night I finally stood up for myself and cracked a bat over my old man’s knuckles. I had been swinging for his head, but I was a shit shot back then.
But this was Matt Kane, all American boy and loyal to everyone in his family except me. “Bullshit,” I spat. He knew, everyone in the house knew, and no one did anything.
“It’s not bullshit; I didn’t know!”
“Where did you think all the bruises came from little brother, huh?” I yelled, pushing off the wall to get in his face.
“Did you think I was that much of a troublemaker that I got into fights before I got to school?”
“But Dad said…”
“Fuck what he said. He beat the shit out of me for no fucking reason and everyone stood by and fucking let it happen.”
“I don’t believe that; he is a good man, a good father, and you are a liar just like you always have been,” he spat hatefully.
“When are you going to stop sticking up for that coward? If you really didn’t know then this is your wake up call. It happened. We may have lived in the same house, but we did not have the same father.” My chest heaved with my words and Matty stood there for a beat then walked out.
Good fucking riddance.
Harley
I had let Deklan sleep while I devised the best plan ever.
I made myself ready to face anything with this plan. I wouldn’t be alone. That was my plan, no alone time for me. I’d glue myself to Deklan and visit with Ember until we left. Being alone was dangerous for someone like me. Bad thoughts appeared faster than I could read a paragraph and once they started…
So, I wouldn’t be alone.
I texted Ember to tell her I’d be coming home for a little bit only for her to ask if Matt was riding home with us. Did she not know the hate the brothers seemed to have for one another? I was just about to reply when a knock sounded at the door. Deklan didn’t have any friends, he trusted people little and didn’t like anyone in his shit, his words not mine, so the fact that someone was at his door was cause for alarm. I knew it could only be his brother and after checking for Deklan’s snores, ensuring the knock hadn’t woken him and looking in the peephole, I wasn’t stupid, I confirmed it and opened the door for Matt.
“Oh, it’s you,” he stated rather callously. Matt was more and more of an asshole every interaction I had with him, but I hated that I had caused an even bigger wedge between Deklan and his brother, and that guilt made me want to mend fences.
“Who else did you expect; I live here.” I’d start mending fences after today, I owed him my bitchy comment, besides this was what he was used to after all. He knew me through Ember, and Ember knew me as a slut who didn’t give a fuck about what anyone said. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve thrown my hard but fake attitude at Matt.
He pushed his way past me, forcing me to let him in and stood in the middle of living room like he was here to stay. Sighing, I closed the door, donned a bored look, and turned to him, checking his taped up nose. Wow, Deklan had good aim.
“Hello to you too, Matt. How’s Ember?” I felt the need to remind him that he had a girlfriend back home, a fact that he seemingly didn’t care about or had sudden amnesia about.
“Like you fucking care, you never once called her, even after my mom’s funeral, where she gave a speech.” I hadn’t known that Ember had been close to Mrs. Kane, but looking back now, I suppose she would have had to at least meet her since she and Matt have been dating for almost three years.
“I’m sorry,” I said, dropping the hardness out of my voice a little. He was an asshole, but he was hurting and didn’t deserve my attitude right now.
“You know you and him are nothing alike.” He looked at me like his father had once, like I was shit on the bottom of his shoe.
“We are more alike than you know.” I said with passion. Me an
d Deklan had different setting, but the same story.
“Did you know he didn’t even come to her funeral? Was that your doing?” Apparently, hurting didn’t stop the assholishness.
Funny thing about me is that if this had been said in front of Deklan, or my mother had looked at me like that, I would have crumbled, but Matt looking at me like this did nothing but fuel my approach. I didn’t bat an eye when I asked him if he knew about the years of abuse Deklan went through at the hands of the great Royce Kane.
I hated a lot of things in life, waking up before my alarm, silence, music without passion, the way my mother treated me, but knowing that someone you love, someone who was your world went through pain, past or present, and no one fought for him had me pissed as shit at the injustice of it all.
Matt didn’t like them apples if the iciness in his returning question was any indicator, but I didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t going to apologize for what I’d said; this wasn’t my conversation to have.
Shaking my head refusing to elaborate further I gave him the universal sign of get out, and he completely ignored it. But before I could press the issue, Deklan was there, throwing off his usual pissed off attitude. He and Matt exchanged words and when they became heated, I took that as my cue to leave. I knew what would become of their words, and I was not a fan. Escaping to the kitchen, I sat and waited, not really hearing what was going on in the next room, but more focused on Matt saying me and Deklan were nothing alike. I had told Matt vehemently that we were more alike than he thought, but had I really believed that?
Again, same story, but the endings were wholly different.
His tormenter was alive, and he had a physical person to continue hating, my tormentor was dead and I was unsure about my hate, myself, everything. I wished again that I could be more like Deklan, so sure of who he was and who he wanted to be. But no, I didn’t know who I was or wanted to be. Who was Harley Reynolds really? The hard bitch I pretended to be for Matt and Ember, the meek and scared to breathe girl that I was around my mother, or the shattered bookworm that I was with Deklan? I didn’t know, and I desperately wanted to.
The slamming of the door launched me out of my thoughts in time to hear Deklan yell at me that he was going to take shower then head to work, effectively telling me that he was pissed. I wasn’t sure if he was pissed at me, but I wasn’t sorry I said what I said. It was like a light bulb went off above my head; he had no one, no one stood up for him, his mother may have done what she thought was best and his brother was…well, no one stopped the abuse, he was alone, like me.
I suddenly knew why Deklan got pissed when talking about my mother, and even if he didn’t say it, I knew. He cared for me; he cared for me enough to feel with a passion a deep hatred toward the source of my pain, my mother. I smiled to myself because that little sliver of hope I’d gotten when I met him grew.
Harley
I don’t understand why people expect me to feel a certain way. How can they know how I feel when I don’t? Right now, I’m glad that I’m not back home, so I can’t get the ‘poor thing’ look from people who didn’t even know me or my mother, they just know that she’s dead, I’m her daughter, and I should be sad.
I hate how people automatically think that because she was my mother, I’m supposed to act or feel certain things. If only they knew I hated her. At least, I think that I hated her. I mean I have this intense dislike for all the things she did to me and made me feel. That’s hate right? Like Deklan hates his father and brother? But the thing is, Deklan doesn’t really hate his brother. Sure he has a serious dislike for him and wouldn’t hesitate to drop kick him in the throat, but would he be happy he died? I didn’t think so. So then, what was hate?
My monster caused me so much fear and anxiety growing up, and as a result, I am so thoroughly and truly fucked up that I should hate her for that right? I hurt myself because I feel like I should, like someone should, because I’m not enough or I’ve done something I’ve perceived as wrong and need to punish myself because that’s what she would do, and it’s what my body, my brain is used to. It’s used to pain. But you hate someone who causes you pain, right? So did I really hate my mother or myself?
I hated that I didn’t have answers to these questions, hell, I didn’t have answers to any questions, and I knew I wasn’t ready to go home, to face the stares and the endless questions. What I really wanted to do was avoid, avoid, avoid. I was used to avoiding things that made me uncomfortable. It was easy growing up to avoid the fact that my head hurt from having it slammed into a door, or the fact that my stomach clenched in hunger sometimes because I was too scared to get something to eat. It was easy to avoid; I see why people did it, but I knew that there was no avoiding this. I had to deal, right?
So, after Deklan had gone to work I shamefully found one of Deklan’s new disposable razors and after removing the plastic shell, used it to create a small thin line on the inside of my wrist that could be covered by my watch.
Instantly, I felt better, like I could do this. I knew it was wrong, looked on as batshit to do this to myself, but I just had to get through this and then I would stop. I wouldn’t need to do this…this crazy shit anymore, and Deklan would never find out.
After Deklan came home, he slept for a few hours instead of showering right away. Now, he was up, making me pack while he took a shower. I reluctantly pulled out a pair of jeans and a few shirts he had gotten me and laid them out on the bed while I waited for Deklan to finish in the shower. I wrestled with taking the razor with me; after last night, I hid it in rag under my side of the mattress. If I took it, I wasn’t sure how I would explain it to Deklan if he found it. I hated that this was a foremost thought in my head, of all things. I mean, the fact that I was going home to the place that caused me so much pain, so much damage to the point that I had contemplate on whether or not to sneak a razor with me with cope, should have put a hard stop on this trip.
Was this how it was going to be now? I plan what I’m doing based on if I would feel the need to cut? I’d already altered how I got dressed, if my shirt showed too many of my scars or not, now I had to add to cut or not to cut to the mix now?
No, because after this, I’d stop.
I had to.
I glanced at the door of the bathroom, anxious that he would catch me, and removed the razor from its hiding spot and quickly stuffed it in between my shirts and then hastily buried them in the bottom of the bag, throwing everything else on top. There was still plenty of room for Deklan’s things, and I hoped I didn’t have to use the razor, but just knowing it was there gave me a sense of calm that I only got when Deklan looked at me like he would stomp the world for me.
It made me feel protected, like I could do anything, face anything. I wasn’t planning on using it because I wasn’t planning on being alone, but it calmed my jumpy nerves to know it was there…as a backup. As long as I stuck to the plan, I wouldn’t need it.
We were on the road 15 minutes later. Fly on the wall by TFK surrounded me, making me think way too much about things that I didn’t want to think about. Deklan could be okay driving the entire forty minutes it took to drive back to Dacula and not say a word, but I needed something to distract me from counting down the minutes and miles until I was back in hell.
“Where are your books?” I blurted, thinking I’d like to go back to a few days ago when all that was on my mind then were books.
“Books?” Deklan asked, not taking his eyes off the road, but turning down the music to hear me better.
“Yeah, you read right? And you had tons of books at your parents’ house, but I didn't find any books in your apartment here. Where are they?”
“You been going through my shit, babe?” He glanced my way quickly then back to the road. Shit, I wasn’t sure if that was a pissed off glance or ‘it’s cool’ glance. We were doing okay, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.
“I mean…well, I was bored, and I wanted to read… I wasn’t being nosy, I swear…i
t’s just...I’m sorry.” I struggled with finding the right words because I had been exploring, but not with the intent of finding something other than books.
“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”
“Because you think I was going through your things. I wasn’t, I was just looking for books,” I clarified.
“No, I mean it's your apartment too, look all you want, I ain’t got shit to hide from you,” he stated vehemently. Why did that make me feel lower than shit? It was the truth; while we didn’t know too much about each other, I knew he had nothing to hide from me and he would tell me anything I asked him. He’d get pissed, but he’d still tell me. However, I knew that wasn’t the case with me. There were still parts of myself that were closed off to him, parts that were better if they were closed off for good.
“They are in the chest.” Deklan went on, relieving me of having to try to reply around the guilt threatening to choke me.
Hurt Me: A 'Me' Novel Page 10