“Maybe.” I grab his arm and drag him toward me, my nose finding his hair. I wrap my arms around him and he nudges my neck with his face.
“Bye, Iggy,” I say softly, the first word causing my heart to crack.
“See you later, Ev.” His warm lips brush up and down my jawline and then he pulls away.
Before I can be too tempted to pull him back in my arms, I grab everything I brought up here yesterday and walk out the door.
I can't come back. By doing so, I'm only feeding into whatever this is, watering the seeds every time we're together.
At some point I'll have to stay away long enough for whatever it is growing between us to die. Let's see if keeping my distance from him doesn't kill me first. Last night I wasn’t only able to sleep easily, the nightmares were also nonexistent.
Finding the answer to my question last night was supposed to give me clarity, not have me more confused than before.
Sixteen
Ignacio
He showed up and stayed. I can tell by the look he had in his eyes before he left, he won’t be able to stay away for long. His eyes held a sense of longing and want while we were in the shower.
I smile in satisfaction at being the one who put it there. Me, not anyone else. Not my mom. Not the woman from the bar.
Only me.
After tugging on my underwear, I leave my pants on the chair and walk back into the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror, my gaze drifts to the untattered flesh on my inner thigh. My fingers graze the smooth surface before moving over to the burn scar on my hip. It's rough and dry in comparison. Similar areas like it cover random parts of my body.
Closing my eyes, my mind drifts back to the day I got the first one. I was a bad boy and acted out during dinnertime. I threw my hot soup in one of the men's faces. They didn't appreciate it and made sure to let me know.
“What the fuck did you do, boy? You're going to pay for that.”
“You can't do any worse than you've already done,” I say between heavy breaths.
“Watch me.” He takes off his mask, his skin red and angry from the hot liquid. It went right through the thin material. His lips turn up into an evil grin, eyes cold and empty. He lifts a lighter from his pocket and a flame flickers, waving side to side as he brings it closer to me. I kick and scream, the chains keeping me from going too far.
Harsh laughter fills the room and he tugs at my hair, slamming my face forward to the ground. My forehead comes in contact with the concrete so hard my head gets woozy and my eyes roll in the back of my head, the pain sharp and throbbing.
My fingers spread out and I lie still, my eyes too heavy to fully open. The room spins too much for me to move again so I stay limp against the floor, closing my eyes while my mind takes me to the ice skating rink Everett took us to during Christmas break last year. I try to stay there, but a deep, poisonous voice keeps entering my memories.
“That's better,” he says standing above me. “Now where were we, precious?”
The lighter sparks above me, his finger striking against it. As soon as a wave of heat covers my lower back, I start singing my mom's favorite Christmas song, going back to the skating rink. The flame grazes my skin, burning the top layer of flesh. I grit my teeth and think about my mom's laughter and how Everett held my hand as I walked onto the ice for the first time.
The burning sensation increases and I swallow back a scream, not wanting to let them see me hurt. They can't have my pain. I won't give it to them. I laugh, the same way I did every time my ass came in contact with the ice at the skating rink. The searing pain moves to another part of my body, stinging and eating at my flesh.
The pain occasionally pulls me back to my current reality but I fight past it and go back to the skating rink. I don't stop returning to the ice until after the man leaves the room. I keep laughing until the pain subsides.
The heat against my palm has me leaving my past and coming back to my present. I hid a box of matches in the bathroom drawer knowing I'd need them. Occasionally my burns ache and the only way to make it stop is for me to reclaim them for my own. Lifting my leg on the toilet seat, I lower the flame to the old scar, burning it away. These are my scars now. Not theirs.
My flesh reddens and blisters. I take in a deep breath, my airway clearer than before, and I'm vibrating from the endorphins. I bring my leg down and throw the match into the toilet, smiling down at my handy work. Another scar made by their hands is gone. New skin will soon replace what they once touched.
I grab a black bag from the counter and fetch out some gauze, along with the small bottle of saline. After cleaning up, I call Gunner, asking him to meet me at Club K tonight. He knows what time to be there without me saying. I need to meet with him to form a new plan. I prefer we discuss it in person than over the phone. Then he can relay the message to the others.
As I'm sliding on my jeans, my phone vibrates and my insides twist. Why is she calling me? It's not safe for her or my mom.
Tia Rosa's number continues to flash on the screen and I answer it, my jaw tightening.
“Why are you calling, Tia? It's a bad idea. My mom—”
“That's why I'm calling. She left this morning saying she needed to go to you. She wouldn't say why and I couldn't stop her.”