by Adams, Kira
She handles my resentment with grace, keeping herself composed. “I think that’s enough for today. But Bryce, I want you to remember that you don’t have to settle. Your life is what you make of it. You’re only a prisoner if you let yourself be.”
I’m not sure she is supposed to say these things to me, being a therapist, but we have a deeper relationship and I appreciate that she doesn’t always color within the lines.
I nod and watch as she begins to pack up her notepad and pen into her purse. “Same time next week?”
It’s never changed since we began our sessions, but I like that she double checks. Not that I’ve ever cancelled on her, I yearn for the interaction too much for that.
“Yeah, see you then.”
I stay seated as I watch her walk out the double doors and into the entry way. I hear the front door open and then close behind her, followed by silence. My parents won’t be home for another hour, and Mikey has soccer practice after school, so I am alone with my thoughts.
I’d give anything to be able to get in my car and just drive somewhere. My car has been sitting inside the garage since I moved home. I slowly make my way to the garage door, opening it slightly, then turn on the light inside. The light shines down upon my Honda Civic LX. It’s an older model, four door, and teal. Although it doesn’t have all the bells and whistles of the newer versions like automatic locks and electric windows, I love it all the same. I always have. In the eight years I have owned it, it has only broken down two times. I nearly totaled it once, but my insurance was able to reconstruct it, and I never noticed much of a difference.
I step out onto the cold floor of the garage and run my hand over the top of the roof, closing my eyes. I don’t even remember what it’s like to drive with my windows down, the wind whipping through my hair. Opening the front door slowly, I slide in, feeling the familiarity as I sit behind the wheel. I slide my fingers over the steering wheel, gripping it and releasing, letting myself get lost in memories.
I hear a loud bang and my heart jumps into my throat. I’m out of the car faster than I can blink, barricading myself inside the house and locking every door. I don’t know what the noise was or where it came from, but I am not going to be investigating it. It sounded like a loud pop, possibly a gunshot or something else equally loud. It has my heart beating wildly. I race upstairs to my bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me. Climbing into my bed, I pull my comforter up to my chin. It always seems to soothe me. I’m still shaking, but my breathing is beginning to return to normal, my heartbeat slowing.
I grab my phone off my nightstand and notice a missed call from Tyson. He’s probably dying to hear how my assignment went. I haven’t been completely honest with him. When he asked about it earlier in the week, I told him I was making progress…but now I feel guilty for lying to him.
Before I can rethink it, I am dialing the familiar number. He picks up on the third ring. “So, how did it go?” The enthusiasm in his tone is more than apparent.
“About that…”
“Bryce?” he asks, in a stern tone.
“I couldn’t do it.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t do it? I thought you said you were making progress?” he presses.
“Yeah, I kind of lied.” I’m biting my lip anxiously, nervously awaiting his disappointment.
“Kind of lied? What does that even mean?”
“Okay. Fine. I lied. Happy now?” He has made me completely forget how terrified I was a moment ago and now I am up and pacing across my room.
“No. You lied to me. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” His tone sounds hurt, I don’t blame him.
“Because I was afraid you would be disappointed in me.”
“Bryce.” He sounds sad, defeated even. “I could never be disappointed with you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. I mean, it would have made me happy…really happy if you had completed the assignment. But, I think no less of you.” It would have made me incredibly happy too…believe me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Homework.” He sighs. “I have a huge test on Friday.”
“I should probably let you go, then. I don’t want to distract you.” I’ve stopped pacing and am now seated on my bed.
“I can take a few minutes out of my day to talk to you. Plus, I need a distraction. I feel like I’m going cross-eyed.” He chuckles, bringing a smile to my face. I’m happy he doesn’t want to hang up right away. Talking to him has been the best part of my day so far.
“Your parents still planning on taking that trip to the beach?” he asks. They’ve been wanting to get away for a while now, but they’ve been too worried about leaving me by myself that they’ve forfeited any chance they’ve had to be alone. I can tell they need it though, so when they came to me with the idea, I urged them to go. I don’t want to hold everyone else back. I want to stop being viewed as a burden.
Mikey coincidentally has a weekend soccer retreat, so it’s going to be me and my lonesome. I’m not exactly looking forward to it. The idea of being alone and vulnerable scares the living shit out of me. Granted, nothing has happened in over a year, but still.
“Want me to come stay with you?” Tyson asks. God, yes.
“You don’t have to do that.” My tone is not very convincing, but I don’t want him to feel like he has to babysit me.
“I’ll be there Friday by four. Leave the door unlocked.”
I smile to myself. This is why you’re my best friend.
Before
* * *
My heart is beating so ferociously, it feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to my chest. My eyes are shifting nervously around the room, darting to the clock and back to the task at hand. Robbie is going to be home any minute. If I don’t leave now, he won’t let me leave.
I scoop up the bag I just spent the past half an hour packing, glance around at the rest of the belongings I am leaving behind, and say a silent goodbye. This has been my home for the past two years. I’m going to miss it. Just as my foot hits the top stair, I hear the loud roar of his engine. I know without a shadow of a doubt, I’m too late.
I begin panicking, my legs not working properly. If he finds me here, I don’t know what he’ll do. I swallow, my mind going to the bruises he’s left on me recently. Enough is enough. I race down the stairs as quickly as my feet will carry me, headed straight for the front door. As soon as I swing the door open, my face is assaulted with harsh winds. I carry my bag close to my chest and refuse to look back as I hurriedly make my way to my car. I hear Robbie’s door to his Ford pick-up close and I feel the adrenaline kicking in.
“Bryce!” he calls out to me, and I know I’ve been caught. I pick up my pace, focused on one task, getting the hell out of here. I don’t even have the doors unlocked when I feel his firm grasp on my arm. “Where are you going?” he asks, his eyes wide and frightened. They are shifting between me and the bag, nervously.
I swallow. “My parents are going out of town and they asked me to house sit. It should only be a couple of days,” I lie, desperate to escape the hell I’ve been living in.
Robbie squints his eyes as if he is dissecting the lie I just told him. “I just ran into your mom today and she never mentioned anything like that to me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, surprised.
“I ran into her at the grocery store early this morning and she invited us to dinner this weekend.” I doubt the honesty in his words. My parents can’t stand Robbie. My mother is the one who gave me the courage to leave. She doesn’t know he’s been putting his hands on me, but she does know how unhappy I am. She told me I’ve lost my excitement for life—and she’s right. The fact that he is trying to make me believe she was friendly with him is suspicious. Cordial would make more sense.
Robbie grabs the bag from my hands. “Are you leaving me?” he asks, something flashing across his eyes.
I wouldn’t be sur
prised if he can hear the frantic beating of my heart. “No,” I say slowly, the shakiness in my voice evident.
“Oh. My. God,” he accentuates each word separately. “You’re leaving me.”
I swallow. “I just need some time…to think,” I lie. There is only one thought running through my mind: get out.
Robbie’s vein pops out in his neck and his eyes go dark. Next thing I know, a fist is coming straight at me. I duck fast enough that his hand meets the driver’s side window and it shatters, pieces of glass strewn about the inside of my Honda. I’m shaking, my eyes shifting to my broken window and the blood stained on it.
“You can’t leave me!” Robbie cries hysterically, his hand cut up and bleeding. “We are soul mates!”
I want nothing more than to hop in my car and drive away, but he’s slowed me down. He’s never going to let me leave.
All common sense goes out the window, and my body takes over. Forget the bag. Forget the car. Don’t let him win. I take off in a run down our street, my Converse slapping against the pavement. I can hear his heavy footsteps behind me, but I don’t dare turn around. “Help!” I cry out, running down the middle of the street.
A tear streams down my cheek as I feel his arms wrap around me tightly and he pulls me down to the ground with him, crashing roughly against the hard pavement. Pain shoots through my shoulder instantly and I cry out in agony. Robbie clasps his hand over my mouth, stifling my cries. “You’re going to get up, and you’re going to walk back to the car calmly. You’re going to pick up your bag and you’re going to come back into the house with me, understood?”
I’m trembling underneath him. You were so close…
I’m scared what he’s going to do to me behind closed doors. I’m scared to face his wrath. I know he is going to make me pay.
Four: An Innocent Game of Truth and Dare
“You sure you are going to be okay here alone?” my mother asks, a worried look spreading across her face.
“I’m sure. Tyson is coming over soon, he’s going to stay the weekend with me.” She seems satisfied with my answer, but her face still shows concern.
“Alright, call us if you need anything.” She hands my father her suitcase to load up in the car and hugs me tightly.
“Mom, I’ll be fine. Enjoy yourselves. You deserve it.”
She releases me, giving me a tight smile. “See you in two days.”
They are gone soon after. I walk around the quiet house, peeking quickly in every room. It’s something I’ve been doing since the incident. It makes me feel more secure knowing I’ve checked all possible areas. Our house hasn’t changed much over the past decade, besides some newer furniture, everything has remained constant. I walk into Mikey’s room and it looks as though a tornado blew through it. There are dirty clothes strewn about the floor, his bed is unmade, and I can barely see the floor beneath all the clutter. Some things never change. I smile to myself, shaking my head lightly. Once finished upstairs, I head back down to the main level and check the windows, pulling the blinds shut.
Tyson will be over in less than an hour, and although I’m antsy being alone, it’s not terrible. I make my way to our study where a mahogany grand piano sits. It’s been forever since I’ve played. I used to take lessons when I was a little girl but after I refused to practice, my parents cancelled them. It was understandable. There is only one song I still remember from start to finish, Beethoven’s Fur Elise. My fingers instantly fall on the ivory keys and I let the music take me back…back to when things were simple in my life and back when I had a zest for life and a need for adventure. It feels like eternities ago.
I don’t even hear the front door open or Tyson sneak inside behind me. I’m too lost in my own world. When I finish, I feel eyes on me. I turn around slowly, realizing that for the first time in what feels like forever, I was able to forget about my troubles and worries, and forget that I am not normal and will never be again. Remember a simpler time.
“You never told me you could play,” Tyson says softly, setting his duffle bag on the floor and approaching me.
“It never came up.” I shrug, closing the piano lid and standing up from the bench.
“Don’t stop on account of me.” He holds up his hands in surrender.
“I’m not.” I look down at my feet sheepishly. “That’s just the only song I know.”
“Well, you could have fooled me.” Tyson smiles a toothy smile back at me. “So, what kind of trouble can we get into while your parents are away?”
I’m not much of a rebel and honestly, never have been. Considering we can’t even leave the house, our options seem very limited.
I look around the study, pretending to be deep in thought.
“That’s what I thought!” Tyson exclaims. “Good thing I came prepared.” He walks over to his duffel bag, unzips it, and begins shuffling around inside.
“What are you doing?” I ask, coming up behind him, attempting to get a better view.
Swiftly, he pulls out a bottle of vodka. “Ah-ha!”
I can’t help but grin. He really wasn’t kidding. “But it’s only us…how much fun can it really be?”
“It will only be lame if we allow it to be.” He jumps up and begins heading to my kitchen.
I follow as he opens the cupboard and pulls out two small glasses. “Should we do shots or mixed drinks?”
I can’t remember the last time I drank, but vodka used to be my drink of choice back in the day, so I shrug. “You decide.”
“Shots it is!” He grins widely. He pours what looks to be doubles for each of us and then hands me one of the glasses. “So, we need to make this interesting.”
“And just what are you proposing?”
“An old school game of truth or dare.” He arches his eyebrows, while raising his glass.
“What are we—in middle school?” I joke.
“Nope, but we are working with what we can. Now, are you in?” He is staring me down with his dark chocolate eyes, and I can’t help but giggle.
“All right. But, what are the rules?”
“You pick truth, and I will ask you a question. If you refuse to answer, you have to drink. Same goes with dare, if you refuse the dare—you drink. Sound easy enough for you?” I nod. I have a feeling I am going to be hammered in no time.
“Great! Wanna go first?”
My mind races beginning to think of all the questions or dares I can torture Tyson with. “Sure.”
I take my shot glass and make my way to the dining room table. Tyson follows closely behind with not only his glass, but also the bottle, taking a seat beside me.
“What will it be Mr. Richey, truth or dare?”
He seems to debate this for a moment before saying, “truth.”
“Do you actually enjoy spending time locked up indoors with me?” I feel bad asking the question, but it’s been nagging me for a while now.
He nods slowly. “Yes and no. I like spending time with you, but sometimes I wish we weren’t confined to inside these walls.”
I feel guilty. He could be hanging out with anyone in the world…yet he chooses to hang out inside with me. “Your turn,” I say quickly, wanting to change the subject.