Scars of my Past

by DC Renee

  So then he got nastier with me. My mom still didn’t react, but Charles kept trying. The more time went by, the worse it got. I had started to hate myself before I even knew with one hundred percent certainty that he hated me. How could I not? He had drilled it into my head that I was worthless, useless, consuming valuable air, and a good-for-nothing.

  If someone beat you down enough, you stayed down. You didn’t get back up. Charles had beat me enough I didn’t even want to get up.

  No one outside our home knew. No one suspected that the seemingly confident kid I was everywhere else was dying a little inside every time I had to go home. They didn’t realize I bolstered myself, made sure I was popular, worked harder at football than anyone else did to cover up what I felt inside and to get a glimpse of love back.

  Charles had shoved my mom down—something that had become a regular occurrence. I didn’t step in—also a regular occurrence. I was growing up, getting taller, become more of a man every day, but I was still nothing compared to Charles. And if someone told you that you deserved nothing less constantly, you believed them. I believed that no matter how big I got, how strong I got, I would be nothing against Charles.

  “Get up, Jessica. Get up and cook me dinner,” he yelled at her. I could smell the alcohol on his breath all the way from the doorway—also a regular occurrence. Charles was belligerent more often than he was sober.

  When my mom didn’t get up, he turned . “Help take your mom to our room,” he ordered. “You worthless piece of shit loser, this is all your fucking fault.” I didn’t know how, but I was afraid he was right. What had I done to deserve this? What had I done to force this upon my mom? “I fucking hate you, you little shit. I hate you,” he raged.

  I flinched as if he’d slapped me. He had in a sense. His words were worse than any physical abuse he could have inflicted upon me.

  “Get out of my sight,” he spat at me. I pulled my mom up and helped her to her room. It wasn’t until she was in bed and I was in my room behind closed doors that I allowed the pain of his words to sink in. It was one thing to feel unloved, to feel unwanted, to feel like a “worthless piece of shit,” but it was a whole other thing to feel hated.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Present

  Genevieve

  “You like him!” Amanda cried when I told her I didn’t want to go along with the revenge scheme anymore right after I told her about the entire week … twice. Try not giving Amanda details, and you’ll wish you’d just caved the first time around.

  “I don’t like him,” I protested. “I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said like she didn’t believe me. “Okay, so now what? You’re just going to be his friend? The guy you hate?”

  “Yes, no. No,” I repeated a little firmer.

  “Uh-huh. And how are you going to avoid him?”

  “I won’t,” I told her. “I can’t, not really. We have class together. And he’s going to think it’s weird if I just randomly stop hanging out with him. So I’ll distance myself slowly over the next month. Then we have finals, and I go home after that. We’ll naturally drift apart over the summer. And poof, no more worrying about Cam.”

  “So you still plan on hanging out with the guy you hate?” She said the word “hate” like it wasn’t a real word—like it was made-up and fake.

  “Ugh,” I cried as I threw my hands up in the air. “It’s not black and white. This situation is all gray. So, yes, I’m going to hang out with him but only a little. Only enough not to draw suspicion until the summer comes and then it’s over.”

  “Good luck, Gen. That’s all I have to say. Good luck.”

  I avoided Cam for a week except for class, claiming way too much work to catch up on after a week of pure fun. But after a week, I had no more excuses.

  “All work and no play makes for a boring Gen,” Cam teased over the phone.

  “I don’t think that’s quite how it goes,” I responded.

  “You get the point,” he said, and I could hear him rolling his eyes. “Plus, I miss you,” he said.

  I melted.

  “Okay, I’ll see you at your place at seven,” I told him. He’d convinced me to come over; we’d order some food and watch a movie on TV.

  I finished my assignment earlier than I thought I would. The campus library wasn’t too far from his place. Just a few blocks. I figured I’d walk to his place to waste some time since I was early. When I realized I’d be there sooner than I expected regardless, I sent him a quick text.

  Running early. Be there in 5.

  Cam didn’t respond, but I figured he was busy with something.

  When I got to his place, I knocked on the door, and one of his roommates I’d had the pleasure of meeting before and even hanging out with opened the door.

  “Hey, Genevieve,” Clark said. “I was just heading out, but Cam’s expecting you. He’s in his room. You know where it is,” he said and then called out a goodbye as he walked out.

  I walked toward Cam’s room but stopped short when I heard his voice. I didn’t catch the words, but they sounded angry. I didn’t know whether I should walk in or wait.

  I stood there for a moment, hesitating, weighing my options.

  “No, not happening” I heard his voice loud and clear. He was on edge. And since I heard no reply, I figured he must be on the phone. I turned to walk away and give him some privacy until his call was finished. I was early after all.

  I made it two steps before I literally halted midstep.

  “I’m not letting that worthless piece of shit loser back into my life.”

  Suddenly, everything seemed to close in on me, darkness threatening to cloud my vision. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. I couldn’t perceive distance or depth. I couldn’t hear anything but my heart; it was beating so rapidly in my chest I was afraid it would beat right out of me. My mind didn’t make sense of anything, but it replayed the words he’d just said over and over. That worthless piece of shit loser …

  In reality, I knew it was only a few seconds of pure panic, but it felt like my entire life had passed me by.

  That worthless piece of shit loser …

  Tyler was back. And I’d let him come back. I’d let him back into my life. And I’d felt for him, felt his emotions as if they were my own, felt his despair even when I didn’t understand it all, and felt his happiness as it mirrored my own. Cam was Tyler.

  And somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that.

  That worthless piece of shit loser …

  Just as suddenly as all the air had been sucked out of my lungs, it rushed back in, and I found myself in motion. I ran as fast as I could right out of his house.

  I ran straight to my room.

  That worthless piece of shit loser …

  It took several minutes to calm my racing heart and my tattered nerves, and when I did, I sent Cam a text message. Sorry, Amanda needed me, had to go home.

  “What’s wrong?” Amanda asked as she walked through the door just moments later.

  That worthless piece of shit loser …

  “The revenge game is back on,” I told her.

  “What?” she asked, looking confused.

  That worthless piece of shit loser …

  “Cam Dents is going down.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Past

  Cameron

  Eight years earlier …

  MY MOM WAS SICK. She said she was fine, but she didn’t look fine. She didn’t have a cold or even the flu. She had no cough or a fever, but she looked so pale, so tired … all the time.

  “I’m fine sweetie,” she would tell me when I asked if she was all right.

  She wasn’t fine.

  She hadn’t been fine in years.

  And Charles wasn’t helping her be fine.

  I wondered how he held down his job, considering he was drunk even when he was at work. “Functioning drunk,” I’d heard tossed around by adults I knew, but I w
asn’t sure how that worked. Especially since he seemed belligerent at home all the time.

  How did no one at his work notice? Or maybe they did, and they didn’t care as long as the work got done. I didn’t even know what he did. Maybe he was into some illegal stuff, and they didn’t give a damn if he was a drunk or not.

  He never quite beat the crap out of my mom like they showed in the movies. But he definitely hit her, pushed her, and shoved her around. She was like a ragdoll to him. “Get out of my way,” he’d say and push her to the side.

  If he did that to a guy—maybe one as big and as strong as he was, it wouldn’t faze that guy, but my mom was a thin little waif. One tiny touch and she practically fell backward. Even I felt the need to be careful around her—cautious. When I hugged her, I was afraid I’d break her. When Charles touched her, he treated her like she was made of steel.

  She didn’t talk back to him and didn’t stand up for herself. I didn’t think she realized who she’d become. She just was. Just existing to exist. Going through life because she’d lived and my dad hadn’t.

  I didn’t know if I’d ever want to fall in love if this happened when you lost the one you loved. I knew that was rare, but I didn’t think I’d ever want to chance it. Of course, the likelihood of me finding someone who could love a “worthless piece of shit loser” like me was slim to none.

  My own mother didn’t stand up for me when Charles called me names and shoved me around like he did my mom. The only difference was that as I got older, it was harder for him to physically move me with his touch. But his words? They got me each time. I was nothing, except on the field. I was worthless, except on the field. I was a loser, except on the field. I knew football had saved me, and I would not take it for granted. I continued to play my best. I would use it to get away from here one day.

  But when I looked at how frail my mom was, how pale her complexion looked, I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of one day leaving her.

  I was a horrible son, but I knew she’d never leave Charles—she’d stuck by him so long that this life had become her normal—so I secretly hoped she’d find a way to be with my dad, so she could be at peace. I just hoped it didn’t happen yet. I was twelve years old with nowhere else to go. I needed her. She needed to get strong, and soon because I wasn’t old enough to live without her yet. But as I studied her, that was what I feared—that she’d leave too soon.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Present

  Genevieve

  “ARE YOU SURE that’s what he said?” Amanda asked after I had replayed everything.

  “I know what I heard,” I responded just as my phone dinged for the fifth time since I had been home.

  “Give me that,” Amanda said as she grabbed my phone from me. “He’s texted you five times,” she announced. “‘It’s okay, beautiful, I understand. I hope everything is all right,’” she read out loud. “He calls you beautiful a lot,” she pointed out.

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I replied.

  “Sure,” she said and rolled her eyes. “‘Just text me to let me know everything is okay,’” she repeated his words. “Let’s see, what else?” She mumbled a few lines before screeching out, “‘I’m getting a little worried, Gen.’ Gen?” she yelled. “Gen?” she repeated. “You let him call you Gen?” she asked, her voice shrill.

  “It just happened. It’s no big deal. You call me Gen,” I countered.

  “Yes, but I’m me. I’m special.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

  “It’s just that …” She trailed off.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s just that this doesn’t sound like a guy who would call you anything bad. Do you even know that he was referring to you?” she asked.

  “Who else would he be talking about?”

  “Uh … just about anyone else,” she said like it was blatantly obvious.

  “Whose side are you on? Just yesterday, you were all gung ho about this revenge scheme, and now, you’re defending him.”

  “That was before Spring Break, Gen. And that was when I thought you wanted to do this. When I thought you needed to do this.”

  “I still want to do this,” I told her.

  “No, you really don’t. Something happened. Something changed, and you were all set to drop it. And now, you’re jumping to conclusions and wanting to stick it to Tam.” I noticed she still called him Tam—at least, some things didn’t change.

  “I was wrong. I thought Cam and Tyler might be two different people. Like maybe one was the former self, and one was the new one. And the new one … I couldn’t do that to him even if he truly was the old one. But now I know they’re one and the same.”

  “I think you should confront him. Hear him out. I’m sure he has a logical explanation. I’m serious, Gen. ‘If everything is okay tomorrow, I’m claiming my time with you. I miss hanging out with you,’” she read one of the text messages that had probably been in the middle of the five he’d sent over the course of the last hour. “This sounds like the new self to me. Nothing here screams asshole. Even if he said those things, I highly doubt they were directed at you.”

  “Let’s say they weren’t,” I responded. “How does that change things? He’s still not the nice guy I’ve come to know. He’s still that same asshole from high school, and this time, his words are directed at a different victim. He deserves to know what it feels like. Physical pain heals. It’s the emotional kind that stays with you forever.”

  “Yeah, but—” she started, but I cut her off.

  “Mandie, you’re my best friend, but I’m doing this. You had said before that you thought I wanted it, that I needed it. Well, I do. I need it. So I’m doing this with or without you, but I need your help. I need your advice. Most importantly, I need your support. Are you with me or not?”

  She sighed, her shoulders visibly moving for dramatic effect so I’d know she wasn’t happy about my decision, but I knew her answer before she even opened her mouth.

  “Yeah, Gen. I’m in.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Past

  Cameron

  Two days earlier …

  “NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT,” I said into the phone.

  I had seen my phone light up with an incoming call. I smiled, thinking it was Genevieve calling to tell me one of three things—either she would come over earlier than anticipated, she would be later than we agreed, or she was looking for an excuse not to see me. She didn’t think I realized she had been avoiding me.

  I hadn’t had a true family in years, and when she invited me to spend Spring Break with hers, I had wanted to say no even though I found myself saying yes. After spending the entire time with them, I felt like I finally had what had been missing in my life.

  They made me feel as if I truly belonged, as if I wasn’t someone who no one could truly get close to. Sure, I had friends; I even had fans who adored me, and I had worked hard for that. I fed off that. I let all the love I felt thanks to my football career overshadow the dark part of me.

  And then there was Gen. I didn’t know what she saw in me to stay my friend, but I wouldn’t chance that. Fuck if I didn’t want to claim her a thousand ways to Sunday, but I was no good. I was filthy inside. No matter how far away I ran from my past, no matter how deep I buried my memories, they were still there, lurking under the surface. Gen was beautiful, smart, caring, and most importantly—pure. I couldn’t taint her with the dirt that swirled inside me. But I was too selfish not to be around her and not be close to her.

  I knew it messed with her head a little, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted her; I wanted her like I’d never wanted anything in my life. I had never had the desire to be with a woman like that. To get lost in ecstasy, to feel like a man, to have that momentary obliterating joy—sure, but never as anything more, and here I was thinking dangerous thoughts about Gen.

  So we naturally got closer over Spring Break. I think that freaked her out. She was avoiding
me, but I couldn’t have that. And the more I thought about it, the more it freaked me out that she’d cut me out of her life. I didn’t think I’d handle that well. No, I knew I wouldn’t handle that well. I needed her. I wouldn’t give her up. I’d fight tooth and nail to keep her in my life.

  I had a witty comeback on the tip of my tongue in case she tried to bail on me, but when I picked up my phone, I felt all the blood drain from my body.

  When my lawyer called, it was never a good thing.

  I picked up hesitantly with shaking hands and a heavy heart. I didn’t want to know what he would say, yet I couldn’t not hear it.

  So when he told me the news about Charles, I blew up at him.

  “I’m not letting that worthless piece of shit loser back into my life,” I told my lawyer, using the words Charles had used against me too often. I always thought I’d feel better if I called him the same names he used on me but I never did. I just felt as low as he did.

  But I was as low as he was. He’d made me that way.

  So when I finally hung up with my lawyer and saw that Gen had bailed on me,

  I was a tad bit relieved. I couldn’t let this touch her. I wouldn’t let it touch her.

  But it didn’t stop the feeling of loss I experienced at knowing yet another day would go by without being near her. It just reiterated that I needed her in my life. But if I had any doubts beforehand about whether we might cross that invisible line, that phone call had forced the memories up and completely obliterated them. I wanted Gen, but I couldn’t have her. So I’d keep her the only way I could—as my best friend.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Present

  Genevieve

  I AVOIDED CAM for a few more days. I just needed some time to get my head on straight. He had shaken me up.