Authors: Melyssa Winchester
Chapter Five
Eric
Seven days.
One hundred sixty eight hours.
It’s been exactly that long since Hannah was dragged into the girl’s washroom, beaten and burned. It’s also been one week since Amy got kicked out of school and the whole social order blew up in smoke.
At the beginning of the year there was six of them. They walked the hall in a line, owning it and making sure that everyone around them knew it. They were the masters of their domain, the ones that called the shots and it was up to us to remember that and fall in line because it wasn’t going to change.
It had taken more than half the year, but change happened.
The first change came with Kayden catching an attack on Belle in the parking lot and putting himself in the middle of it, preventing it from going further. In an effort to protect her, he’d turned the attention on me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was chosen because his need to protect Belle was stronger than his drive to do right by all of us.
Kayden eventually got his head on straight and did right by everyone instead of just one, which left the group of them with five remaining.
Dillon came after that, because of Cadence and the punishment that Daniels leveled him with after he dragged me into the locker room and beat the hell out of me. For whatever reason, he changed and now instead of walking with them, he fights alongside Kayden, the complete opposite of the way it started in September.
Then there were four.
Wit
h Amy gone and out for god knows how long, the other three don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. None of them are strong enough on their own to be considered a leader which means the social order is in complete disarray. Something I’m thankful for, but not stupid enough to think will last forever.
At some point Amy is going to come back and when she does, things will go back to the way they’ve always been. We’ll all be targets again. Me even more than the others because now that I know what’s happening to her, it’s only a matter of time before she turns it around and uses it against me.
Where I walked the halls a few weeks ago like a ghost, doing everything in my power to skate by without anyone noticing and calling attention to me, now I’m the visible one and they’re the ghosts. Tim shuffles from class to practice so quickly that you barely have enough time to register that he’s even there until he’s gone again.
Charlotte and Eve have taken to spending all of their free time outside and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the school, completely at a loss now that their leader is gone with no sign of coming back.
Everything is the way it should have always been, but I can’t enjoy it because every time I think about how much everything changed, I think back to the girl in the office, the burns I saw on her arms and the way she smiled, laughed and thanked me two days ago.
Amelia Evans, the girl that for whatever reason chooses to go by Amy and act like a complete monster with everyone she interacts with. The girl that for some reason chose not to act like a monster with me.
“Hey Carmen, you always wear the same fucking clothes like that or are you just doing it for my benefit?”
Maybe things aren’t all that different after all.
Ignoring his comment, I continue making my way down the hall, the one that will take me to the front of the school where my friends are waiting for me so we can sit together for lunch the way we always do.
“Here’s an idea. Go home and take a shower, change your panties. The stench coming off of you is literally choking the life out of me!”
As much as I want to ignore this, I can’t. He’s right. It’s something I do that try as she might, my mom can’t get me to change. It’s also the one way that these guys can still get to me.
Do not cry. If you cry right now then Tim gets what he wants. Keep walking until you’re outside with Kayden and Isabelle.
“Dude! You smell that shit? Looks like Carmen needs a diaper change!”
Closing my eyes as tight as I can, I breathe in through my mouth and out through my nose, my heart already beating itself to death inside my chest, the anxiety rising the more that Tim calls attention to me. I need to just suck it up and get outside, but before I can even put one foot in front of the other to take the steps needed, I can feel my body shaking.
It’s all too much. I’m gonna break down and if that happens then everything is going to get worse. The shaking is gonna turn into me feeling so hot, I’m gonna start scratching, picking at myself and it won’t be long after that before I start hitting myself. I’m gonna complete meltdown in front of the entire school and be even more of a laughing stock then I already am.
I hate that he’s even a little bit right about me. I want him to say things that aren’t true so that they’re easy to ignore and move on from, but this, I can’t move on from it because it’s very real and something I struggle with.
If it bothers Kayden or Belle, they never speak to me about it, but how can they not be bothered by it? If someone as normal as Tim can see it, point it out than I’m sure it’s just another thing that they’re overlooking because they’re too nice to say something. God, they’re all right. I’m defective.
Contrary to what people think, I do clean myself. It just doesn’t happen the way it does for normal people. My mom has to help me. She has to be there through every single step, the one to wash me otherwise it won’t happen at all. I’ll melt down before I even hit the bathroom. The way the water feels on my skin, it’s like a mi
llion bugs crawling all over me and don’t even get me started on the way the cloth feels.
It’s like sandpaper against my skin and I’ve actually cried out a bunch of times before my mom finally clued in and got rid of it, choosing instead to go with a soft sponge when she washes me. I’m old enough to wash myself, she shouldn’t even have to be in the bathroom with me, but because of the way it feels, the entire experience, she stays and does what’s needed so that I don’t hurt myself.
That’s something else that’s wrong with me. When everything becomes too much, I’ll slam my head off whatever’s nearby and in this case it’s usually the tub or even the sink if we haven’t gotten that far. It’s another way that my entire family would be better off if I just didn’t exist.
“Eric, are you okay?”
Turning my head at the sound of the voice, seeing that it’s Isabelle, I let go of the breath I’ve been holding. Gripping onto her outstretched hand, I squeeze, saying everything I can’t get out with the simple motion.
“It’s okay. I’m here. It’s gonna be alright.”
God, I can’t believe this is happening right now. Belle has her own issues, so she understands mine, but I hate that she’s the one that’s gotta get me through this now. I should be strong enough to do it on my own, not have a girl helping me.
Sliding her hand out from my grip, the loss of connection making me feel even worse, she slides it back around until our fingers are locked together and again I breathe out. She’s not leaving me, she’s just making it easier.
“Let’s go.”
As we start walking, all the while trying to keep my breathing in check and calm my heart, I hear a slam behind me and jumping at the sound, I catch sight of what caused it.
Kayden has Tim up against the lockers and he’s made it impossible for the guy to move. This is the way I remember Kayden being last fall when he had me pinned the same way and it just makes everything worse. I need to get away from this before I end up throwing up all over Isabelle’s shoes.
“Make him—stop.” I manage to choke out and Belle’s eyes meet mine, understanding what I mean. “Don’t want him—to get in trouble.”
“He won’t. Come on. I’m taking you outside.”
She pulls my hand and with one final look back at Kayden, his position unchanging, Tim still locked under his arms, I follow her to the doors until we’re completely outside and I’m able to breathe in the air around me again.
“I—I thought that with Amy gone t—things would be different.”
“They will. We won’t stop fighting until they are.” She says and before I know it, her arms are wrapping around my body, pulling me into her even though I’m taller. For the first time in forever, touch, it doesn’t make me wanna pull away.
Isabelle hugging me. It’s exactly what I need. What Dr. Thompson said, he was right. She will understand.
“Belle, I n—need to tell y—you something.”
Amelia
“Oh princess, you feel so good. You know just what Daddy likes.”
After pushing his body down on top of mine and rubbing against me, his clothes causing mine to lift, he backs away long enough to strip his shirt off before coming back down and putting the entire weight of his body on top of me again.
It’s the third time this week that he’s done this, waiting until Mommy is passed out in bed and everything is dark. Coming into my room, stroking my hair, calling me all sorts of names that I used to find sweet, but now wish he wouldn’t say at all. Once he’s called me all the names he can think of, he pushes himself on me.
I fought
against him for the first two nights but it ended up hurting me more so I stopped. Now I just close my eyes while he does this and cry inside my head. The first time I cried out loud, it upset him and he smacked me across my cheeks so I know not to do it anymore.
It’s not gonna be long now before he sits up again and slides his pants off, panting, almost breathless as he strips my own nightgown off. That’s the part I hate the most and the part that I wish I could scream out to Mommy for, so she could stop it.
I just want it to stop hurting.
~*~*~
Sleep is pointless. Every time I try, my mind is flooded with images of him on top of me and the screams I couldn’t let out then, I do now. It doesn’t change anything though because just like nobody came then, no one does now.
My pain, the tears that fall, the shaking of my body brought on by the anguish that remembering causes, it’s all going to fall on deaf ears.
I’m completely alone.
Resigning myself to the fact that I won’t be sleeping again anytime soon, I sit up in the bed and reach across for the bottle of water sitting on the side table, unscrewing the cap and drinking so fast I’m almost drowning in it. Putting it back on the table, I grab my phone and scroll through the missed messages since my failed attempt at taking a nap.
There’s three, all from Tim. The first two are just texts, but the second one is a picture and as I take in what I’m seeing, my stomach rolls over.
I don’t want to see this shit. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking, but taking a picture of someone looking like this, it’s wrong and I know what wrong really is. It’s made worse because two days ago, the guy in the picture had been the one sitting beside me in a doctor’s office making me laugh.
I’m pretty sure all I’ve gotta do is scroll through the texts and read them to know what led up to the picture I’m seeing, but I don’t wanna know. It’s crazy but being away from school, not having the outlet that I normally do when the memories become too much, it’s changed me.
Eric being tortured does nothing but twist my already upset stomach even more.
There’s only one way to make the nightmares stop. To stop reliving every second of the horrors that asshole put me through, but it’s something I’ve been avoiding. My arms are so torn up I’m pretty sure that there’s no more room and I don’t exactly want to start combining it.
It leaves my legs. The one part of my body that I’ve been trying not to touch, but with each passing second becomes more appealing. I need to do this, concern over the way my body will look after be damned. No one is gonna see it anyway. It’s just me here, with Mom being at work. I can do it quick, banish this sick feeling and no one will be the wiser.
Yanking the drawer open, running my hand around inside until it bumps into the exact object I’m looking for, I wrap my hand around it and pull it out. Finding the pack of cigarettes easily, I pull them out too, making sure to shut the drawer behind me.
Sliding up my nightgown until my bare left leg comes into view, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’m already starting to feel the rush and I haven’t even done it yet. What’s happening now, it’s just further proof that this is the right thing.
Bringing the cigarette to my lips, I flick the lighter three times until I hear the crackle as the flame hits the end of it, the bright orange glow so familiar that I smile. Taking a few drags, I pull it out of my mouth and immediately bring it down to my leg, the minute it makes contact, beginning to count.
It’s always one minute
when I’m doing it to the girls at school, but for me, in order to make sure I block everything completely out but the pain that comes from the feel of it burning into my skin, I make it last an extra three.
Two hundred and forty seconds is all it takes for my heart to speed up, my breathing to become ragged and the blood to rush to my head. With each passing second the clammy feel of his hands is washed away, the smell of his alcohol filled breath completely erased until nothing but emptiness remains.