“Nah, I was fine. Don’t fret.” He shifts to sit up and pulls my head toward him, kissing my worry line.
“He hit you a lot?” I ask.
He nods then shakes his head, sort of giving a double answer.
“I don’t remember them all. Like, most of the time it was a smack to the back of the head. He was pretty strict and, well . . . you’ve met me.”
I let out a sad, airy laugh.
“Imagine if you were Cameron,” I respond.
We both chuckle quietly. Theo swivels around to sit next to me, pulling his knees up to hug them. I do the same. We’re wearing near-matching outfits of Welles sweatshirts and gray sweatpants. Mine is covered in the glitter I’ve shed from my face, though. I pick a few of the sparkly pieces from my pants and Theo joins me.
It’s such a sweet, simple act, and I’m not sure whether that’s what cracks open the guard I’ve carefully put around my old wounds, or maybe it’s this need for him to understand how deeply I understand. But I want him to know me—demons and all.
“So, those scars you probably saw on me—the ones right here.” I open my knees and trace along my inner thigh. Theo continues to pick glitter from my sweatpants but shifts his gaze to my hand and nods.
“When my dad asked my mom for a divorce, he offered to take me with him. He wasn’t being noble or anything. He wasn’t even really being an invested dad. He liked the tax write-off, and maybe he felt a little guilty leaving me behind. My mom is rather high-strung. I’ve learned, througha lotof therapy, that she’s probably the way she is because my grandmother was a cold and abusive woman. And I’m sure if I dug deeper in our family history, there would be a long line of psychopathic types who lack empathy and see children as a check box and status symbol as well as a nuisance and an albatross.”
“Big words,” he whispers, quickly adding, “Sorry.”
I laugh softly.
“Don’t be. A little humor is good when you’re talking about dark shit.”
He nods and glances up at me, our eyes meeting for a brief second. I see myself in him. I see Anika too, and all the ways we’re the same. I swallow down my nerves and blink my gaze back to my hands, that are now picking at my cuticles and the skin along my fingernails. The compulsion is always there. Stress draws it out.
“My mom slapped me across the face for the first time in the checkout line at our neighborhood grocery store. I asked to get a pack of cookies, the kind my dad always got for me when we went to the store. She smacked me and told me she knew he always liked me better.”
I give him a sideways glance to assess his reaction. His smile is soft, gentle, and understanding.Neilis a lot like my mom, I’m guessing.
“It was usually verbal, the abuse. Almost always in public or in front of Drew, my stepdad, and his son, Levi. I would instantly feel small, and even though Drew tried to make it better, it only ended up making things worse. She’d come right back at me with accusations for trying to steal her new husband. Not inthatway, but she has this sick jealousy of people liking me better. And my stepbrother . . . wow!”
“Does he hurt you?” Theo’s concern comes out fast as he turns into me and touches my chin. I shake my head to quickly dismiss that idea. Levi is harmless, if not arrogant.
“No, nothing like that. He simply revels in my demise. My mom puts him on a pedestal, which I’ve learned is her passive aggressive way of punishing me without doing it physically or directing her wordsatme. Levi gets whatever he wants. His car is brand new, and mine barely passed emissions this summer.”
I return my attention to the inside of my leg, placing my palm over the skin that years later still feels freshly wounded in my mind.
Deep breath.
“I was eleven the first time I cut myself.” I swallow hard and my eyes close automatically. It’s easier if I’m not tempted to look Theo in the eyes. “I was ashamed the second I did it. It’s messed up, but that shame was better than the way I felt when my mom humiliated me. When the first wound healed, I did it again.”
“Anika had scars like that,” Theo hums.
I cry a little, tears pushing through my eyelids. I blink them away and curl my mouth into a painful, familiar smile steeped in heartbreak. I nod.
“That’s how we met. I . . . got her pain. But having your sister in my life, and I think maybe with her having me in hers, that darkness faded. The urge—compulsion—it wasn’t as strong. I leaned on her. And in her own, crazy way, she leaned on me.”
“My sister really loved you,” he says through broken laughter. I chance a look his way and our eyes meet, both glossy, and I’m sure mine are just as red.
“It’s going to be okay, what happened today.” I shrug and shake my head. Theo levels me with a doubtful look.
“Don’t ask me how I know. Call it my gut, or whatever. But it’s going to be okay. Sometimes, the good guys get to win.” I inhale a hard, cleansing breath and plaster the most convincing smile I can muster on my face. I almost believe the words I’m saying. The worry lingering in the back of my head is loud, but I refuse to give it voice. I can’t lose Theo. Not now that I’ve only just got him.
He reaches forward and places a palm on my cheek, running his thumb along the raw, hot skin under my eye.
“You are . . . exceptional.”