by Leddy Harper
She nodded with lips curled into a hint of a grin. “Please, if he ever tries to pressure you into anything, come to me. I won’t be mad. I won’t punish you. And when you do have sex—be it with him or someone else—I need to know. I can’t protect you from things if I’m unaware.”
I knew what she meant. She’d mentioned it when I got my period for the first time, and again when I started high school. I knew all about protection and doctor’s appointments and tests for diseases, although I hadn’t had a reason to do any of that yet.
“I will, Mom. Can I go see him now? I need to apologize for getting angry with him last night. I wasn’t very nice when I left.”
She nodded, and then I kissed her cheek and fled from the house in a race against time to get to Killian.
Ten
Killian
“What the fuck, man? He has a kid!” The guy with the spikey collar around his neck gestured to me, his chest heaving, shoulders rising with every panicked breath.
“Take care of him,” the one next to my mom said. His voice was even and calm, and when he held out his arm, pointing the knife in my direction, I noticed it didn’t shake. It seemed odd; there wasn’t a part of my body that wouldn’t stop shaking, and it wasn’t because I was cold. The heat in the room was stifling.
“And do what with him?”
My sight bounced around the room, the only part of me capable of moving. My mom stared at the ceiling, her mouth opened wide as if she were about to scream. But she was still. Completely still. Not even her red-painted chest moved.
I stared at her, willing her to get up.
Willing her to move.
But she didn’t.
I became lost in memories of her singing in the kitchen, of her holding me to her chest and whispering how much she loved me. The pounding of her heart still rang through my ears…or maybe that was my own.
The man next to her shifted his stance. He was saying something, but I couldn’t understand any of it. His words were muffled, like he had a sock in his mouth. I turned my attention from the rainbow on his shirt to his face, noticing his mouth was empty and wondering why he sounded so funny.
“Shut him up!” I was able to hear that, and it seemed everyone else did as well.
The one with the collar jumped at the harsh tone of the man next to my mom. I glanced between the two, feeling as if I were watching a movie. It was surreal. All of it. Like I was invisible, a fly on the wall as my mom always said.
The spikes on the collar caught a sliver of light through the window and gleamed when the man turned his head toward me. “He’s just a boy.”
Just a boy. I rolled my tongue around the words, though not speaking them out loud.
“I don’t care how old he is. He’s a witness.”
“I’m not killing a kid.” The collar must’ve restrained his voice, because he spoke in a low tone, not quite whispering, but not shouting like the man in front of him—the one with the knife. The man with the triangle and rainbow on his black T-shirt.
“Then gouge his eyes out. I don’t care what you do. Silence him.”
I turned my attention to my dad. I swore I heard him speak. But when I found him, I thought he might’ve fallen asleep, although I wasn’t sure how he could’ve with people in his room. His eyes were open, and just like Mom, his chest was still.
The man standing over him didn’t move, only stared at me with tight lips and stiff shoulders. He seemed angry. But I didn’t know why. Maybe he was mad that my dad was asleep. I wished he’d wake up.
One constant noise kept pulling at my attention. I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t ignore it. It came from my dad, or near him. A muted tap, a muffled pat. It sounded like water dripping on something soft. I glanced down and noticed something shiny in the man’s hand. I studied it more, only to discover where the noise had come from.
Paint dripped from the shiny object he held. I couldn’t tell what it was. His fist clenched around the black handle until his knuckles turned white. And when I met his fierce, angry gaze again, fear nearly buckled my knees.
It wasn’t paint.
Dad’s shirt had been white.
He wasn’t mad that my dad was asleep.
Because he wasn’t.
It wasn’t a movie or a nightmare or my active imagination. It was reality. As if I’d just smacked right into a brick wall, it hit me all at once. My parents were dead, and these men had killed them. I’d be next if the one by my mom had anything to do with it.
I stumbled back a step, but before I could turn and run, the man with the triangle on his shirt pointed his knife at me and crossed the room. He grabbed me by my shoulder and threw me to the ground. I tried to scream, but only air escaped. I tried to move, but he sat on me, preventing me from squirming away. My face was wet, my sight blurry, my lungs not working properly.
“He’s just a boy! A kid! What the fuck are you doing, man?” I couldn’t see him past the guy sitting on my chest, but I knew the frantic pleas had come from the one in the corner without any blood on him.
“Someone needs to make sure he doesn’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” I cried out, although it was choked with a sob and barely audible. “I won’t. I promise. I won’t say anything. Please, let me wake up. I want to wake up now.”
“You think this is a dream? Your parents are monsters. They ruin people’s lives. You’re better off without them. This isn’t a dream. In fact, I just saved you from your worst nightmare.”
“No…no…no…” I kept repeating the word until my throat was scratchy and raw.
“They’re fucking cunts. Both of them. Worthless pieces of shit. And I just saved you. You should thank me.” He laughed, but it sounded off. Humorless. Not like he’d just told a joke. It scared me and I shook even more, sobbed even harder. “Yes…that’s what you should do. Thank me, boy.”
I couldn’t. I shook my head and tried to free my arms from beneath his weight. But he was too big, too strong. I was stuck. Dad always said boys didn’t cry, but Mom told me it was okay. She said everyone had feelings and emotions, and we were allowed to let them out any way we could, because holding them in was bad.
So I cried.
Out loud.
I didn’t hold it in.
Because that would’ve been bad.
“Thank me!” the man on top of me shouted again.
“Th–thank you.” Those two words burned my tongue, and I was scared my parents would be mad at me for saying them. I shook my head again, but the guy grabbed me. Hands on both sides of my face held me still. “Th–thank you,” I repeated again, hoping he’d let me go.
“You won’t tell anyone about this, right? If I let you live, you won’t say anything?”
“N–no. I w–won’t. I promise.” My voice was airy, breathless, and with his crushing weight on my chest, the edges of my sight turned dark. My hands, feet, arms, and legs grew cold and tingly, like they were about to fall asleep.
“If you do…if you tell anyone—and I mean anyone—I’ll remove your voice box like I did your mom’s. Got that? Don’t think the police can help you. They can’t. They’ll make you promises, tell you what you want to hear, but they lie. They’re pigs. And they will lie to you. They won’t be able to save you from me. Got it?”
I nodded, because I couldn’t speak. My sobs choked me, and my tears blinded me.
“I’ll know if you say anything. And then I’ll come for you. Don’t make me regret letting you live. If you do, I won’t think twice about cutting you into pieces and making you choke on your own flesh through a hole in your throat.”
I closed my eyes tight and shook my head, willing him to get off me so I could breathe. Praying he’d leave me alone so I could wake up from this nightmare. Warmth trailed down the sides of my face and pooled in my ears—and the world went silent. It sounded like I was in a bathtub, under the water, hearing things around me but unable to make out the words.
He let go of my face, and I
thought my prayers had been answered.
But then came the searing pain.
My cheeks burned so badly I couldn’t make a sound. My eyes popped open, and I found the man above me smiling, a wicked glint in his eyes. I couldn’t even move my head, like it’d been superglued to the floor beneath me. My lungs shriveled up, on fire from the pain. My nostrils stung. There wasn’t a part of my body not crying out in utter agony.
Then he stood up, but he didn’t leave.
I tried to gasp for air, though I couldn’t find any. It’d all been sucked out of the room. My body felt heavy. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t see.
But I could feel.
And what I felt next would be something I’d never forget.
The toe of his shoe crashed into my ribs. I felt something inside crack, snap, and blinding pain flooded me. My mouth opened wide in an effort to scream, but all it did was cause more torture. I didn’t have a clue what he’d done to my face, but whatever it was left me choking on warm liquid. The taste of pennies saturated my tongue and dripped down my throat.
In my blurry vision, I noticed movement, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. I couldn’t see anything past the onslaught of tears, couldn’t hear the words they spoke over the pounding in my ears. I don’t know who or what gave me the strength, but I rolled onto my side.
And then darkness fell.
* * *
My eyes snapped open, my heart thrashing relentlessly against my chest. The ribs on my side that had once been broken throbbed in pain. And my cheeks, where I’d been granted a permanent smile, ached. My tight throat made breathing more difficult, but I ignored it. Without moving, I glanced around the room, taking it all in.
I wasn’t eight anymore.
I wasn’t in my parents’ room.
I was safe.
It never failed—I always had the same dreams after sketching their faces. But if I didn’t do it, the nightmares were worse. The residual pain I’d wake up with would be more severe. There was no escaping it. No evading them. They’d always be with me—in my head, on my sketchpad, in my dreams. Haunting me. Taunting me. Reminding me of the silence I promised to keep.
And I would.
I’d never tell a soul what happened that night.
Because no one could save me.
I settled onto my stomach, pushed my arms beneath my pillow, and closed my eyes. I’d barely slept a wink last night after Rylee left. Elise had wanted to talk. I wanted to be left alone. In the end, I wrote a letter, snuck out, and spent at least two hours beneath the moon and treetops out back. I didn’t sketch, didn’t do anything but stare at the silver disc in the sky and think about Rylee.
About the moon.
And about how one day, I wouldn’t have to steal it from the sky.
I wouldn’t have to stop time.
Because she’d be mine.
Satisfied with my resolve, I fell back asleep to the sounds of Elise moving around the house.
Eleven
Rylee
The garage door opened as I ascended his driveway. Elise stepped out with her purse and car keys in her hand, a subtle smile on her face. “He’s asleep, honey. I tried to tell him I was leaving, but he wouldn’t wake up. Maybe come back in a few hours. He had a hard night last night. I don’t know what took place between the two of you, but whatever it was, it didn’t sit well with him.”
I nodded and wrung my hands nervously in front of me. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I want to apologize to him, maybe see if he’ll talk to me today. If you don’t mind, can I try to wake him up? I’d wait…but I really don’t think I can.”
Her chest expanded with her slow, deep inhale, and her gaze fell to my hands. “I won’t be blamed. If your mom knows you’re inside, in Killian’s room, and I’m not home, I won’t take the fall for it. I’m telling you right now to come back in a few hours after he’s awake and can come outside. If you ignore me, and walk through the unlocked door, that’s on you.”
I heard her loud and clear, nodding enthusiastically.
When she started her car to leave, I hurried around to the front door and walked in. The house was eerily quiet—not that it was usually loud, but it wasn’t often I was inside alone. The morning sun drifted through the front windows and brightened the living room. As I made my way down the hall to Killian’s closed door, the shadows began to consume me, and I was left with a worried ache in my chest. Growing wider and deeper the closer I got to his room.
I didn’t bother to knock. Instead, I twisted the handle and slowly opened it, taking in the dark space a little at a time until I stood just inside the doorway. He was asleep on one side of the bed, the covers bunched around his waist. His back and shoulders moved up and down with each steady breath he took, his arms shoved beneath the pillow under his head.
Next to him was a yearbook, which I found odd since he didn’t go to school. I carefully moved into the room and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, praying he didn’t stir long enough for me to look at it. It was open, but I couldn’t see to what page. The cover displayed a cartoon depiction of a tiger with the words “New Hope Tigers” in gold letters along the top. Beneath it, in scrolled font, read “Class of 2001.” I couldn’t imagine whose yearbook this was, or why he had it, opened next to him.
Just as I began to lift it, to see what he’d been looking at before setting it down, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, startling me. I gasped and dropped the hard book. Other than his hand, he hadn’t moved. When I glanced at him over my shoulder, I found him lying in the same position, one arm still beneath his pillow, his face turned to the side. But his eyes were wide open, not a hint of sleep in them. The soft green completely contradicted the hard lines on his forehead as he took me in. His nostrils flared, making them more pronounced than usual, and his grip tightened.
I opened my mouth to say something, but he stopped me by pulling me toward him. I landed oddly on my side, although I didn’t stay like that long. He simultaneously rolled me to my back and leaned up on his elbow to hover over my stunned body. It felt like he’d knocked the wind out of me. Even though I still had the ability to breathe, I chose not to.
He peered over his shoulder to his open door. His brow creased heavily in concentration, all while blinking toward the empty space, as if intently listening for something. I knew what, but it took me a moment to gather my thoughts and offer him the answer he sought.
“She’s not here. She was leaving when I came in.”
His eyes shot back to mine, and it concerned me when none of the apprehension left his features. “Did you get my note?” The way his voice came out sleepy and gruff, scratching over each syllable, sent my heart into an arrhythmic state.
I swallowed hard past the knot in my throat and nodded. Everything I’d wanted to say to him flew away, left my brain, and in its place, lust blossomed. I couldn’t explain it. We’d been in this position before. He’d whispered hoarsely to me numerous nights in my room, beneath the covers, his body touching mine in one way or another. He’d brought me more orgasms than I could recall. And even last night, he’d ran his erection against the spot begging for him most. So it didn’t make any sense to me why now, with nothing more than one question asked in his morning voice, I felt an ache so deep I wasn’t sure it’d ever be relieved.
He crashed his lips onto mine. I couldn’t close my eyes while his mouth took what it wanted from me. We’d kissed plenty of times, but never first thing in the morning. At first, I wanted to push him off me, tell him to brush his teeth, and then come back. But he didn’t give me that option. Rather than letting up, he pushed forward, hungrier, more determined. His brows were knitted together and his nose pressed so hard against mine I could feel every exhale on my skin, peppering me with humidity I didn’t often experience outside summer months.
By the time his tongue took over mine, I no longer thought about his morning breath, or asking him to brush his teeth. My eyes closed and a long, growly mo
an ripped through my chest. He palmed my breast, massaging it gently but with enough force to send shockwaves to the needy place between my legs. Though, it didn’t last long.
He pulled away from my mouth but kept his body against mine while he trailed his lips and tongue down my neck. The moisture left behind on my collarbone cooled the farther down my body he crept, and it sent a new sensation through me. The nerves running down my spine, the ones that gathered at the base near the curve of my backside, burned like a trail of fire. However, my arms and legs tingled with a chill. My chest nearly exploded when he dipped the tip of his tongue into my belly button.
Desire pooled in the apex of my thighs, more than any other time he’d ever touched me. My hips rotated toward him, seeking him out. Needing him. Begging for his attention. I fisted the sheet beneath me in a desperate attempt to fight off the unknown cravings that ravished my logic.
“Wait…Killian…” I breathed out, forcing the words to come to life as soon as his fingers began to unhook the button on my shorts. “What are you doing?” Each heavy word was spaced with shaky breaths that matched the shudders overtaking my body.
He didn’t lift his gaze to mine. Instead, he spoke with his lips against the soft skin below my navel. “Making you feel good. As good as you make me feel.”
I ran trembling fingers through his hair, pulling the light strands away from his face. “You don’t have to do this. I didn’t come here for that. I only wanted to make sure you were okay after last night. That we’re okay.”
Finally, his eyes met mine. Desire enlarged his pupils until they were twice their normal size, almost taking over the color I loved so much. “I’d be a lot better if you let me do this. But we don’t have to. If you’re not comfortable, I can stop.” Then he whispered, “Please don’t make me stop,” along my lower belly in heated breaths.
My legs tightened around him, squeezing his ribcage…in place of the words I couldn’t speak. The approval I offered, but couldn’t utter. It didn’t matter we needed to talk, or that we still hadn’t discussed the night before. My body wanted him.