Even When I'm Gone (Stay With Me series Book 2)

by Nicole Fiorina

  Somehow, even on the pills, Mia still pushed her way through, only driving me to utter insanity. Our love pushed its way through. No amount or strength of pills could force me to surrender any longer. I needed to get off them completely.

  “It says here you can be hot-headed without the meds,” Dr. Conway pointed out, a question mark lingering at the end.

  Leaning over, I dug my elbows into my knees. “I’m also kind, loving, and sincere without them. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “You don’t have much longer, Oliver. Six months and you graduate. You’ll be a free man.”

  “I don’t have six months.” In only two months, I’d caused enough damage to push Mia to never speak to me again. Risking another six wasn’t an option.

  “What’s this really about?”

  Had I been talking to the fucking kitten on the wall this whole time? “I can’t lose her.”

  “Who, Oliver?”

  “Mia.”

  “What does Mia have to do with this?”

  “Everything.”

  The small room went quiet as Dr. Conway’s brown eyes bore into mine. “I want to try something.”

  “Anything.”

  “First, I need you to relax. Get comfortable and close your eyes.” I sunk back into the leather chair and hesitantly closed my eyes. The sound of papers shuffling sounded around me and the slight gust of air blew over me from the AC vent. “We’re going to do what’s called mindful meditation. You don’t have to speak. I only want you to listen to my voice.”

  Dr. Conway wasted no time and continued speaking in a soft voice as I tried my best to drown in this spot and lose myself from the world around me.

  The only vision that came to my mind was Mia.

  Big brown eyes. Hair the color of an oak tree—twisted shades of lights and darks. Her touch so delicate yet able to penetrate my soul. I sank deeper and deeper.

  “Why are you smiling, love?” It couldn’t be past six in the morning. The sun has yet to come up, but the light she’s putting off warms my very soul. There’s definitely a smile on her lips this very moment, and it’s touching every inch of me, waking me, filling me—my heaven.

  “How did you know I was smiling?” she asks in amusement.

  “I can feel it.” I can also feel her turn to face me as I lie on my side. Then her finger runs across my lashes as they do every morning to get me to open my eyes.

  “Because I’m happy,” she finally responds. It was my turn to smile, though with her it was hard not to. “Open your eyes, Ollie.”

  “No.” The only time I have ever refused her. She knows I would give her anything, but opening my eyes? We’re not ready for that yet.

  “Why not?”

  “If I open my eyes, it means you have to leave, and I’m not ready for you to go. When my eyes are closed, I get to pretend it’s a Sunday morning and we have no place to be.” A bigger smile spreads across my lips as an idea comes to mind. I have to show her. She has to see this world I created for us that one day I’d give her. “Go on, close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Just close them … ” I insist as I trail my fingers up her side and rub her bare back. “Are they closed?”

  Her giggle fills the room, and the sound is music to my ears. “Yes, Ollie. My eyes are closed.”

  “It’s a Sunday morning, and I already made your coffee before sneaking back in bed with you. You smell it?”

  “Mmhmm … ”

  “The whole day is ours, no work, no obligations … only you and I. The sun is coming up, Mia. You feel the warmth coming through our bay window and the darkness behind your eyelids slowly lifting? Do you feel it? The sun?”

  “Yes, Ollie. I can feel it.”

  “We can take your coffee to the water and finish watching the sunrise, or we can lay in this bed all day. I have a few books on the shelf that I haven’t read to you yet. Or, we can put on our trainers and walk along the boardwalk, hand in hand because that’s what we do in the summer on a Sunday morning.” I brush my fingers along her cheek. “What would you like to do today?”

  “Mmm … all of it.”

  Flashes of Mia and I faded as new, unwelcomed ones, sprang from a place I never wanted to return.

  “What did I say, brother?” Oscar asks. “Or need I remind you?” My arms yank against the rope tied tight around my wrists behind the chair. If I were older and stronger, I’d be able to bust from these ropes and save her. I’d be able to do something—anything. But I’m only twelve, scrawny and pathetic. Oscar reminds me every bloody day.

  Jasmine lays naked across the bed, completely vulnerable, yet tame. She doesn’t have to be constrained by rope or have tape over her mouth; Oscar’s threats are enough to push her into submission. In Jasmine’s eyes, she is his girlfriend. In Oscar’s, she’s his third victim. She never saw this fate coming, but I did. Keeping my distance became difficult when all I wanted to do was save her.

  But she beat me to the punch.

  Last night, she snuck out of Oscar’s room and entered into mine, pleading for me to help her run away. I tried Jasmine, I really tried. Oscar found her kneeling beside my twin-sized mattress on the floor. This scene before me is my punishment.

  “Whatever my dick slides into first is mine,” he adds, lifting Jasmine from her starfish-position and onto all fours like a sack of potatoes. Jasmine’s long black hair slides off her back and covers her face, and the hard smack against her arse causes my eyes to jerk away.

  “Look, Oliver,” Oscar demands.

  I shake my head.

  A loud cracking sound of his hand against her skin pinches my eyes together, and Oscar shouts once more, “Oliver!”

  Reluctantly, I turn my head back to face him. I don’t know much, but I know if I didn’t, he’d find a way to force me. With his black hair gelled back, the devil in his eyes curses me as he stands next to Jasmine, who remains still on all fours. Her backside faces me as her head points toward the wall. Jasmine shouldn’t be treated this way; she’s not a fucking object.

  Using both hands, he spreads her cheeks apart. “Did you stick your twelve-year-old knob in here?” he laughs, and my only reply is another jerk against the chair. Waves of emotion rush through me, and my fists clench together, unable to handle its crashing madness.

  Rage.

  I try to yell against the tape across my mouth, but nothing comes out.

  “Of course, you didn’t. You wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy if it sat on your face.” He chuckles again, and the simmering of my blood turns into a boil. “You see, Oliver. If they’re dripping wet, they want it. You don’t even have to ask.” Oscar grabs a handful between her legs before his fingers disappear inside her. “And she’s fucking soaked.”

  With the same hand he just pulled out of her, he rips the tape off me and slaps me across the face. “You’re fucking sick!” I scream.

  Oscar throws his head back and jams his fingers back inside her, pumping harder than he should be. “You like that, pet?” he taunts Jasmine.

  “Yes,” Jasmine moans, completely dominated by him.

  My eyes grow wide. “Tell him to stop!” I cry out.

  Instead, Jasmine arches her back, and her fanny opened up for him. I pry my eyes away.

  “See what I mean?” Oscar laughs and unbuttons his jeans.

  “Jasmine, stop this!” I cry out again as Oscar takes out his bulge.

  She doesn’t speak another word when last night, all she did was beg for me to stop him and take her away. Oscar slams her face against the mattress as her arse raised high in the air. “I’ll get you your own, brother. Never touch mine again.”

  Jasmine cries out, and my eyes slam shut.

  My eyes jerked open as Dr. Conway stood over me with her hands on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked, and I stumbled to m
y feet and stepped away from her. Worry hit her eyes. “Oliver, you need to sit down. You’re pale.”

  “I’m fine.” I looked around to catch my bearings.

  “What did you see?” She asked, taking a step closer.

  I held up a hand between us. “Stop.”

  She paused, and her face fell. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Shaking my head, I ran my fingers through my hair and took another step back. My stomach rolled, and my mouth watered, indicating it was only a matter of time before I was about to throw up. My eyes darted around the room for a safe place to hurl up my lunch. I launched forward as Dr. Conway backed away, and I reached for the trash can just in time.

  Even on days I’d tried drinking my feelings away, I’d never thrown up. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, hanging my head over the can afterward. “I’ll clean this up.”

  “Oliver, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it. Let me have Nurse Rhonda take a look at you. I can walk with you to the station.”

  “No.” The last thing I needed was Rhonda getting involved. She could be overbearing at times. “Really, I’m alright.” I tried to stand when my balance failed me. My hand caught her desk, and the other pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “Alright, Mr. Hot-Shot. You’re going to see Rhonda”—Dr. Conway picked up her phone— “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  I gripped the desk and leaned over, annoyed with the situation I found myself in as Dr. Conway spoke over the phone.

  Not too long after, none-other-than fucking Scott showed up at the door.

  “Ethan, hi. Can you walk with Oliver to the nurse’s station? Make sure he’s checked out?” Conway asked as I rubbed over my temples.

  Ethan dropped his chin in a nod before waving me out. “Let’s go, O.”

  My knuckles turned white against the desk before I pushed off it. “Ollie,” I corrected him in passing. “It’s fucking Ollie.”

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-toe.”

  I shook my head he fell in step at my side. Silently, we strolled through the halls until we entered strange territory. “I think you’re lost, mate.” Ethan’s pace didn’t slow beside me as he kept forward, turning another corner and down another hall. “Hey, man. This isn’t the way.” Ethan remained quiet, keeping his eyes out in front of him. One turn later, and we reached a dead end when I turned to face him. “Is this a bloody joke to you?”

  Suddenly, he grabbed me by my shirt collar and slammed me against the concrete wall. Before I had a chance to react, his fist came across my face and a cracking bounced in my head. Ringing sounded in my ears, and I lost my balance before another blow to my stomach knocked the air from my lungs, taking me to the ground. “Get up you fucking pussy,” Ethan barked.

  My hand reached for my gut with one hand as I stumbled to my feet. Spitting out the blood pooling in my mouth, I fell back against the wall for support. We both knew this was about the bruises I’d left on Mia. “Give it to me,” I offered with my fingers begging for more. “I won’t even fight back. I deserve it. I fucking deserve it.” There was no amount of pain he could inflict on me than what my heart was already doing. “Hit me!” I screamed.

  His right-hook connected with my jaw and a jolt of pain shot through my skull. Another cracking sounded in my head, and I fought through it and caught my balance. Before I could right myself completely, another blow entered my ribs and I hurled over.

  “Does it bother you, O?” he asked, and I straightened my posture. Blood poured from my lip as he gripped my hair in his fist. “Every night, it’s my name she’s screaming. Every night, it’s my fucking hands all over her body. And every bloody night, I fuck her into morning.” His fist made impact again, and my head jerked back against the concrete before I slid to the ground. My face swelled and my vision blurred, but I didn’t have to see his face to know he was scared.

  This wasn’t about what I did to her.

  This was about him gradually losing her.

  “No,” I struggled to get out, and a laugh blew past my lips. “Mia wouldn’t fuck you.”

  “Yeah? What makes you so sure?”

  I spat a mouthful of blood off to the side. Every bit of strength I had was wasted on holding myself upright. “You wouldn’t be here if she was.”

  As if he answered a silent prayer, his boot came over my face, and all the lights went out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I smiled,

  temptation could try

  to find a way in.

  but no hand can touch

  the places I’ve been.”

  —Oliver Masters

  mia.

  WHEN SATURDAY MORNING came along, I didn’t waste time hurrying over to Zeke’s, excited for the chance to play the piano and for a little human interaction with someone who didn’t completely hate me.

  Last night during dinner, Zeke had looked back at me in confusion as I’d sat in the far corner. It had been a while since we spoke, and I made a mental note to myself to pick up our Saturday piano session in the group therapy room to mend our time apart. Seeing him sitting at my old table last night as the rest of them talked blindly around him, not showing him an ounce of attention, had stirred an agitated snake awake inside me. Countless times, I’d thought of removing him and taking him over to my new longer table, but Zeke thrived on routine. And as routine would have it, that had been the table he ate at.

  I missed Zeke. It was hard not to, given he had become my first friend upon arrival and the only one who stayed by my side through everything.

  So, here I was.

  Zeke cracked the door and stuck his brown-curly head through.

  “Piano date?” I asked with a hopeful smile. He looked to the ground and shook his head. I tried to see past him, but he blocked my view. “Zeke? What are you hiding from me?”

  His eyes darted around frantically before he dropped his shoulders and closed the door in my face.

  I knocked again, three frustrating times, but there was no answer.

  Was he upset with me? Had the prankster taken him away from me, too?

  The weekend passed with no sign of Zeke, Ethan, or Ollie. My world shrunk to the population of one: me.

  It was lonely here.

  Monday morning, Ethan stood at the back wall, as usual, fidgeting in place with his hands behind his back. We haven’t spoken two words to one another since he confronted me in the hallway after the Maddie altercation, and he never bothered to show his face when day fell to night, and my terrors came to life. Over the last three nights, I’d woken alone and afraid.

  I wanted Ethan, but not in the way I desperately needed Ollie.

  Even in Ollie’s absence, he ran freely through my veins, his love circulated, pumping to a crimson song stuck on repeat. A continuous reminder. Every part of me belonged to Ollie, and there was nothing I could do about it. My eyes searched for him in every room I entered, and in every person I came across. No matter how hard I tried to shake him, how hard I tried to stay away, even in Ollie’s absence, he had a hold on me.

  I hadn’t seen him since he pulled me off Maddie, and I grew worried as a thousand worst-case-scenarios crossed my mind. The fear of losing him again crawled over me like a million spiders, using my weakness to spin their webs.

  Entering class, Tyler averted her gaze as I took my usual seat beside her. Though Tyler had been caught fucking Jude behind Bria’s back, it had been me they pushed away, only making them grow closer. They even moved our WASA counseling session into another room so I’d show up alone and confused and looking like an idiot. Talk about stooping to the lowest of lows. It had been me who’d put the entire group together, and the prankster took that away from me, too.

  “Tyler, this is ludicrous,” I whispered over to her before class started. “You can’t seriously be pissed for something you did.” Tyler exhaled, crossing her legs u
nder the table, and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t fucking tell everyone!”

  Nothing.

  Giving up, I slumped back in my chair as Ms. Chandler spoke up from her desk and advised everyone to complete the lessons on the board in silence. She was the kind of teacher who avoided interaction, more of a babysitter watching over us as we taught ourselves.

  Once class was over, I debated on following Tyler out and giving it one more shot, but as soon as we exited, she fell into the arms of Bria. Two pairs of eyes shot bullets in my direction before they turned and walked away.

  Fucking females.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Maddie’s voice sang, falling into step at my side.

  “You got a nice bruise I see,” I smiled over at her, “need one on the other side to match?”

  “Ah, shut up.”

  I probably shouldn’t, but I had to know if she’d seen Ollie. I grabbed Maddie’s arm and pulled her to a stop at my side. “Have you seen Ollie? I haven’t seen him in a couple of days, and I’m getting worried.”

  Maddie looked past me and nudged her head. “Ya, he’s right there.”

  I turned my head, and my heart leapt when my eyes landed on his silhouette. In black jeans, a black hoodie, and the hood pulled high over his head, Ollie walked through the hall with his head down and eyes hidden from me.

  Relief smothered my worries, and I moved in his direction without a second thought—only needing to look into his eyes and know he was okay.

  “Ollie,” I whispered, stepping out in front of him. He paused and lifted his head. Jaded green eyes met mine. But the sight before me only threw accelerant over the previously smothered worries, reviving my fears. Cut, swollen, and bruised, Ollie stared down at me utterly gutted.

  My fingers reached for his face, and his hand caught my wrist. My eyes watered, and the lump in his throat bobbed before he slowly grabbed the back of my hand and brought it to his face. Ollie’s eyes squeezed shut as if it pained for me to touch him. “I’m alright, love.”