17
Skye
That was too close. I didn’t want Kevin to see my breasts, but that wasn’t what upset me. It was knowing the scars from cutting rose past my waistband. I couldn’t explain them away. He’d never understand. Thinking I’m too damaged to stay here, he might ship me off to some psych hospital. The fear sobered me up real fucking quick.
Cold water rains down on me, sending a blanket of goosebumps across my pale skin. Kevin was right. This sure does wake you up. I turn the knob, and the cold water warms up. I raise the heat until it scalds my skin, and I stay beneath it for as long as I can stand. The pain calms my anxious mind.
I step out of the shower, dry off, and get dressed. Water continues to drip down my neck as I put my hair into a bun on top of my head. I walk down the hall and into the living room on legs that still feel like lead. Kevin sits up when he sees me, nearly kicking over an empty glass beside the couch.
“Skye,” he says, pushing the glass away with his foot.
I sit on the chair across the room from him and draw my legs up in front of me. I wrap my hands around them and lean my head on my knees. Cold water drips down my legs.
He clears his throat. “We need to talk about this.”
“Do we?”
“Yes, we do, so you can stop with the snarkiness.”
I roll my eyes. “Get it over with.”
“You can’t drink like this. You shouldn’t drink at all. I relaxed a little on that, which is my fault, but it has to stop.”
“You drink like that,” I mumble.
“I’m a goddamn adult. I’m allowed to drink however I want to.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m an adult too.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. You keep mentioning my age like it’s a problem.” I untuck my legs and sit taller.
Kevin rubs between his eyes. “I don—”
“You called me ‘so young,’ as if I can’t be responsible for my own feelings. Now you throw in my face how much of an ‘adult’ you are. Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you're that great at adulting yourself.”
I throw daggers with my eyes, and I know he can feel them because he looks away. I expect a rebuttal, but he merely sits back and turns his body away from me. Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.
He finally speaks through clenched teeth. “That’s a real dick thing to say. I didn’t have to take you in. I didn’t need more bullshit to deal with. I don’t need someone reminding me how much of a failure I am.”
My lip trembles. “Sorry.”
“Yeah.” Kevin stands up and bends over to grab his glass off the floor. He leans over me, his posture tense. The scent of liquor saturates his breath. “I’m going to drink the alcohol we have, but I’m not buying any more. It’ll be like the goddamn prohibition in here.”
I flinch at his harsh words. “Good, because you’re mean when you drink.”
Kevin’s hand rushes forward and lands on the back of the chair beside my head. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough.”
I need to stop poking the bear. Kevin isn’t the same person when he’s drunk. Neither am I, I guess. Did I just replace one toxic home life for another?
His face remains close to mine. His jaw stops pulsing with anger. “If you weren’t so young, I would fuck you right now.”
His words throw me off. I look up at him and bite my lip to control its tremble. He wants to hurt me by taking a stab at my age again. But I don’t care about that. I focus on the words that followed.
I would fuck you right now.
I’m not a virgin or some prude, but I’m not a normal girl, either. I lost what I considered my virginity to a friend—when I used to have friends. It was a shit experience. It didn’t feel good, and it was more uncomfortable than comfortable. I ended up kicking and screaming and pushing him away from me after he said something that sent me into a panic attack. I’m fairly certain I traumatized him. I never tried to have sex again, and I haven’t had an interest in it. Sometimes my body betrays me, lighting up with desire and leading my mind into a battle.
Right now, I’m on fire with longing. My brain storms in with hoses to put out the flame.
“You wish.”
He grabs my chin, pulling me toward his mouth. Fear battles my desire to the death, standing over it with a victory flag. His touch isn’t rough, but it’s enough to thrust me into the memories of my past, and my stomach tightens as they attempt to flood my mind.
Coming to his senses, he releases my face and stands again. He covers his mouth with one hand while the other wraps around the back of his neck. I squeeze by him and run down the hall, closing the door behind me and fighting to calm my heaving chest.
What just happened?
I grab my backpack, open it up, and begin throwing my things inside. I don’t know if I should leave or stay. I don’t know how to rationalize the conflict between what my brain knows and what my body feels.
I need to feel.
I lie on the bed and open the drawer. My shaking fingers wrap around the razor, and I tug down my jeans. Just as I put the metal to my flesh, my brain anticipating the pain, the door eases open. I jump. The razor slips from my hand and falls between the bed and the table. I pull my jeans up and tug my shirt back in place.
Kevin eyes me with a bit of suspicion. I recognize the look—the one I try to hide from. He pauses for a moment before coming over to the bed and sitting down.
“I’m sorry for what I said, Skye. That was inappropriate.” He brushes his hand through his dark hair.
I consider telling him it didn’t bother me like he thinks it did. Not that part, at least. The fear crept in once his hand went toward my mouth, but not before that moment. I’ve had a hand pressed against my lips in the worst moments of my life. When I’ve been on my back. When I fought back screams as I took a punch. Hands silence me, and I refuse to be silenced again.
“It’s okay,” I say.
“It’s not. I can’t describe what thoughts went through my mind at that moment. Partly because I don’t remember most of it. But I can’t have you stay here, Skye. It was stupid for me to think this was a safe place for you. I’m not a safe person.”
“What do you mean, you don’t remember?”
He takes a deep breath. “I black out sometimes. When I get mad. It’s worse when I drink. It’s part of the PTSD diagnosis I told you about. I’ve done some fucked-up things to people I care about.”
So have I. I hurt other people as well as myself. He’ll have to do more than that to scare me. Besides, I black out too. Chunks of my memory, just gone. Sometimes I don’t even know how I got to a room I’m in. People are upset with me, and I can’t remember what I did to them. The frustration, anger, and panic are soothed by hurting myself.
“That happens to me too,” I say, dropping my gaze.
“It’s not the same thing. I’d never forgive myself if I accidentally put my hands on you. After all you’ve been through.”
“I’m not some fragile child, despite what you think. I can handle more than you can dish out. I can take whatever men throw at me. Most are way worse than you.”
Kevin’s dark eyes pour into mine. He wraps his arm around me and hugs me. “I’m sorry for everything that anyone else has done to you. I know you’re strong. I can’t imagine going through the things you have for so long. But that’s why I can’t let you stay here. I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to be the reason you’re hurt. It’s inevitable if you stay here, though.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”