Breaking Through the Waves (10 page)

12

As the days trickled by and Thanksgiving approached, Sydney became more stressed. Her new job didn’t distract her, and neither did Coen or her friends. Flashbacks of her childhood came flooding back to her during the most random times.
When Henry was talking to her, memories of her stepfather throwing a bottle of beer at her splashed across her eyes. When he asked what was bothering her, she always said it was nothing.

Coen noticed her pain but didn’t address the subject. There was nothing he could say to make her feel better about the ordeal. He wasn’t even sure how
he felt about it. He wanted to kill all three of them and blame it on a horrific accident of some sort.

Their lovemaking wasn’t as intense and powerful
as it normally was. In fact, she was dry. He could hardly get her in the mood. Most of the time, she just had a stoic expression on her face, like she was thinking of something else. Coen tried not to let it bother him but it did. That connection with her always calmed him and made him feel at peace with the world. He jacked off, thinking about her, but it was never the same. He could barely come doing that because he missed the real thing so much. But he wouldn’t pressure Sydney into doing something she wasn’t comfortable with.

At lunchtime on the last day of school, Coen was sitting next to her but he didn’t look at her or speak to her. Henry picked up on the tension between them.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Sydney stared at the table like she hadn’t heard him.

“Yeah. We’re fine,” Coen answered.

Henry ignored him, his eyes set o
n Sydney. “Syd?”

She looked up. “What’s up?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Uh—no.
”

“I know something’s wrong. Is there anything I can do?”

She smiled at him, but it was very weak. “No, Henry.”

“Are you and Coen having problems?”

“No. We are just as in love as we’ve always been.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I’m just—not in the mood,” she answered.

They fell silent. Coen ran his hand up and down her arm, trying to wake her up from this dead stupor.

“How was the research?” Henry asked. “You still haven’t told us about it.”

She sighed. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” he asked.

Coen shook his head, silently begging her two friends just to drop it.

Henry sighed then did just that.

Sydney stared out the window, thinking about the pain that was about to come. She finally blocked out her past because of Coen, but now it returned with a vengeance. It seemed like she would never be free of them. She wasn’t going to put up with this anymore. As soon as she thought about seeing them again, she returned to her role as the weak victim, talking only when spoken to, and curling up in a ball in a defensive way. She refused to do that again. This time, if she was hit, she would hit back. If her mother still didn’t show remorse or care about what happened to Sydney, then she could go fuck herself too. Coen was right. He was her family now—not them.

When classes were finally over for the day, everyone talked about going home to see their families, whether it was on the mainland or internationally. Sydney wished she was going to Coen’s house to have Thanksgiving with his family. She hadn’t met them yet but she knew she would love them. Anyone was wonderful compared to her own family.

She walked to the parking lot and saw all her friends gathered around.

“Hey,” Henry said with a smile. “The day is finally over! We get a four day weekend.”

“Yeah,” she said sadly.

“What are you doing for turkey day?” he asked.

“Well, my family is coming over.”

“From the mainland?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, cool.”

She nodded.

He saw the despair in her eyes. “Is that why you’ve been sad for the past few days?”

Henry knew her just as well as Coen did.
“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Coen will take care of me.”

“Okay. You are always welcome with me and my family if you want to spend Thanksgiving with us.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Henry. But I’ll be okay.”

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. It had been so long since they touched each other that it felt different. His touch actually felt friendly, not lustful. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. If she just focused on all the beautiful things she found in her life, she would be okay. She made a life for herself on her own. The evil and horrific things that happened to her should
n’t destroy her.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He rested his head on hers. “I love you too.”

Coen was nearby but he didn’t interfere with their moment. The affection didn’t bother him either. Henry wouldn’t try to steal her away, and even if he tried, he would be unsuccessful because Sydney only loved him.

“I’ll save you some of my mom’s apple pie,” he said into her ear.

“I love her pies.”

“She said she’ll make one just for you this year.”

“She did?”

“I’ll send it over as soon as the holiday is over.”

“I’m going to get fat.”

“I’m sure Coen will enjoy it anyway.”

She smiled then pulled away.

Coen came over and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Ready to go home, baby?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. She hugged Nancy and Laura before they drove home to the shack on the dirt road.

“Where are they going to stay?” he asked.

“In the living room or the entryway.”

“You aren’t giving them your bedroom, right?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“Good.”

They went to the store and bought all the groceries they needed to cook
Thanksgiving dinner. They prepped most of it so they wouldn’t have to worry about it on Thanksgiving . Coen helped make the turkey and the stuffing. When everything was finished, they were both tired.

Sydney took off her apron. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You don’t need to thank me, seahorse.”

They moved to the couch then l
ay under a blanket, watching television. She curled up next to him and thought about all the training she went through. She never actually expected to use it. It just made her feel better, helped her sleep at night, but now she might need to.

When it became late, Coen picked her up and carried her into her bedroom, tucking her in before he l
ay down beside her.

The movement woke her up.
“I’m not scared.”

He stared at her. “You shouldn’t be.”

“And not because you’re going to be there.”

“I know. You got this, Sydney.”

“I do.”

13

In the middle of the night, Sydney opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Long shadows stretched across the walls, making them look like stretching hands. She glanced at Coen
, sleeping peacefully beside her. His chest rose and fell with the steady cadence of his lungs. In sleep, his mouth was relaxed and his lips were pressed together in a tight line. The grooves of his lips reminded her of the desert landscape, the trail of a slithering snake. Ever since they started dating, his lips started to dry and crack from their excessive kissing. Eventually, he got his own ChapStick and had it in the pocket of his jeans.

She crawled out of bed without disturbing him. The blankets were ruffled around his waist, exposing his hard chest. She kissed the skin over his heart before she dressed herself and left out the front door, closing it quietly behind her.

The waves pounded against the shore as the moon shined overhead. It was a beacon of light, showing her the mounds in the sand and the bramble from nearby trees. She sat on the beach and tucked her toes under the sand, feeling the grains lodge in the crevasses of her feet. She always had sand everywhere, her hair, her eyelashes, and underneath her nails. Now the dirt didn’t bother her. When she was clean, she felt awkward.

Coen always made her feel safe and sound, but
he couldn’t solve all her problems. She knew he would take a bullet to the chest, a knife in the back just to spare her any pain, but she needed to deal with this on her own. This was her issue and it needed to be resolved.

Sydney was always willing to grant forgiveness to anyone, whether they asked for it or not, but she didn’t think that was possible in regards to her family. When she remembered everything she suffered through, her heart hardened. Everything came back to her in a flash, blinding her eyes and dominating her mind.

“Why are you late?” Dan asked.

She stopped on the doorstep, tightening her hold on her backpack. She tried out for the swim team just so she could be at school longer. She didn’
t like being wet, but it was the better alternative. “I’m on the swim team. I already said that.”

He squeezed the empty beer can then tossed it on the floor. It was only five in the afternoon, but he was already drunk. “And I forbade you fr
om doing that.”

She said nothing. They didn’t have to pick her up or drop her off. And when she was home, they ignored her anyway. There was no reason why she couldn’t
play sports. “But I like it,” she whispered.

He glared at her, his shoulders tensing. “You
r father said no.”

She stepped back. Every time he said this, her response was always the same. She knew she should bite her tongue b
ut she couldn’t. She believed in it too much to let it go. “You’re not my father.”

“What did you say?” He held up his hand, threatening to slap her across the face.

Her mother emerged from the kitchen, drying a plate in her hands. “What’s going on?”

“Your daughter is being a bitch—like usual,” he said, his eyes still glued to Sydney’s. “Now what did you say?”

Sydney glanced at her mother, silently asking for help. When she said nothing, her face completely stoic, Sydney knew she was on her own.

“I asked you a question!” he said, his hand still
raised.

She took a deep breath, preparing for the collision against her face. It would turn the skin
red, burning like hot wax. Her stepfather never did any extensive damage to her face, like giving her black eyes to get him in trouble. During the summer vacation, he wasn’t so selective. She kept her gaze to the floor. “You aren’t my father.”

His hand collided against her face with enough force to push her to the ground. She placed her hand over her cheek as she gasped, feeling the tears sting her eyes. He ripped her hand from her face then slapped her again. She yelped, unable to ignore the pain, and lay on the floor
, absolutely still. Her mother walked back into the kitchen, not reacting in any way.

Dan
grabbed her wrist and yanked her to her feet. He pressed his face against hers. “I will slap you as many times as it takes.” He pushed her back, making her stumble down the hallway.               She got to her feet and bolted to her room, closing it behind her. Her tears blurred her vision as they fell, burning her eyes. She sat at the edge of her bed and stared at the mirror of her closet. Her face became even redder with obvious despair. She was miserable there, unable to escape. Instead of eating dinner with her family, she decided to hide in her room. She would rather starve than sit at the table with the people she hated most.

“Dinner’s ready,” her mom said as she knocked on the door.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Do you want me to tell Dan
that?” Her threat hung in the air.

She wiped her tears away. “I’m coming.”

“Good girl.”

She clenched her fists before
leaving her room. She hated being treated like a dog. She walked into the hallway and sat at the dinner table. Johnny, her infuriating stepbrother, sat next to her. Dan never yelled at his own son, treating him like a cherished child. Even her mom was sweet to him.

His hand moved under the table and rested on Sydney’s thigh. She pushed it away then crossed her legs. His hand returned
with a gentle squeeze. She eyed the knife on the table, considering whether she should pick it up and stab him through the eye, but resisted her bloodlust.

“How was school?” her mother asked.

“Good,” Johnny said, inching his hand closer to the apex of her thighs.

Sydney said nothing. Neither of them cared anyway. She didn’t understand why they didn’t just kill her. They obviously hated her. She would prefer to be buried six feet under than live in th
at hell.

Sydney picked at her food, but didn’t eat anything. She was too depressed to
have an appetite. She was thin and sickly but didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t given a sack lunch or money to buy food in the cafeteria. And when she looked at the disgusting look on her stepfather’s face, her stomach hurt too much to eat a single bite.

“Eat,” he said before he drank from his beer.

She knew his command was for her. Everyone else was eating. Obediently, she shoved the food into her mouth.

“Good girl.”

She clenched her jaw.

Johnny’s hand moved further up her leg.

She inhaled her food then stood up from the table, about to retreat to her room.

“You aren’t dismissed.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped.

He stood up, his arms shaki
ng. “How dare you say that to your father!”

“Go to hell,” she said without turning around.

Dan chased after her while Johnny grinned from ear to ear. Her mother didn’t stop eating her dinner, acting like the entire situation was normal. He grabbed the bat leaning against the refrigerator. She heard him swing it in his arms as he chased her. She sprinted to her room then shut the door behind her, her hands shaking and her heart accelerating. She moved her dresser in front of the door but she knew he would break through. The lock on her bedroom had been disabled years ago.

He shoved his entire body into the door until the dressed tipped over, sending everything on top to the wooden
ground. Her jewelry, pictures, hair bands, and pencils rolled onto the floor. Glass was shattered. The door was pushed open and he finally made it inside. He spun the bat around his wrist while he stared her down.

She moved against the wall and slid to the floor, knowing there was nowhere she could run or hide. He would beat
her like he always did, and she would cry to herself, knowing she deserved the pain. She was responsible for her father’s death so she deserved to be beaten. If she hadn’t run away, none of this would be happening. It was that moment when her spirit broke. Never again would she defy him or stand up for what she believed in. If she did, he would kill her.

When the memory left her
mind, the sight of the ocean waves caught her attention. They rose up the beach and started to inch closer to her toes, the tide increasing. The wind still ruffled her hair. There was no way to determine how much time had passed. Her memory seemed to last for a short minute, but the moon in the sky had moved, veering farther to the left.

She wrapped her arms around herself because she felt cold, frozen. Her greatest enemies were returning to her. This time
, they were coming into the shack that she had made into a home. Her most beautiful moments of life were made on this beach and in that house. She had friends who loved her, a boyfriend who would die for her. It was almost a desecration to the holy land to let them even step on the grounds.

The past wouldn’t repeat itsel
f in this new life. If her stepfather made a move against her, she would retaliate, verbally and physically. Everything was different. She was different. For the first time, she wanted him to hit her. She smiled in the darkness, only the ocean acting as her witness. The storm had come but she would was breaking through the waves. She looked forward to tomorrow. It couldn’t come soon enough.