Old Wounds: Little Battles Part 15

He didn't answer as I walked over to the door.

I had my hand on the doork.n.o.b.

"D-d-don't b-b-be mmmmad."

"I'm not mad," I answered after a momentary pause. I wasn't. I was incredibly disappointed and felt foolish, but I wasn't angry at him. I needed another pill to chill out. Everything that just happened zapped the buzz away. "Are you staying for dinner?" I asked, and again he took the easy way out and nodded. "I worked all day, so it's not going to be awesome or anything."

Chris was incredibly annoying. He was singing at the library table about his d.i.c.k in a box and I wondered, not for the first time, why the h.e.l.l I sat at this table. Yeah, Andrea sat here and so did Megan, but I could take or leave Megan, and I was about to leave Andrea on her own. Before I could grab my bag, someone asked Chris a question, to which his reply was, "I'll be doing a lot better once my b.a.l.l.s are resting on Sophia's chin."

There were a few "oh's" and a couple of stifled giggles. I turned to look at him, and he had one eyebrow raised as his disgusting tongue licked his disgusting lips. His ridiculous hair was so artfully crafted into a disorganized mess and it p.i.s.sed me off even more. I wanted to tell him exactly how much that would never happen, but since he wanted to play public games of s.e.xual hara.s.sment, I smiled at him "Why would they...?" I pretended that I had no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, you want my mouth wrapped around..." I took the faux-shocked look off my face and steeled it. "Actually, Chris, I have a six inch minimum," I glanced to Megan and then back to him, "and from what I hear, you're about four inches off the mark. Sorry."

Everyone snickered at that, even Cierra, who was usually too big of a b.i.t.c.h to even smile.

The smirk was completely wiped from his face and was replaced with anger. "Well, I guess I forgot that I had to be a f.u.c.king thug or a r.e.t.a.r.d to get time with you, so...consider me not interested."

I ignored his hateful names, knowing that they were directed at Jason and Elliott. "Thank G.o.d for small favors."

Chris's smile reappeared. "One day you'll beg me, Sophia."

"I thought you weren't interested," I countered. "And what would I beg you for, Chris? To do the world a favor and slit your wrists? To finally get that nipple rot checked out by a doctor?"

His face reddened and his jaw tensed, and I didn't want to wait around for him to say anything else. I mumbled a goodbye to Andrea and then headed out to the woods early to meet Jason. If ever there was a time I needed to burn, it was in this moment when I could've killed that idiot motherf.u.c.ker.

Two days ago, Megan had invited me to a party at Cierra's. I'd been weighing the pros and cons since then, and finally decided to go. I had no idea what a party in this little town would entail, but typically, parties made it easy to score free bud.

I brought it up to Elliott at the Friday Night Screw-Up Club. The night had been fairly uneventful, aside from Wallace p.i.s.sing me off in my individual session - but that wasn't new - and trying not to listen as Jamie Collins told everyone about how much he missed his dad."

"Did you hear that Cierra's throwing a party tomorrow?" I asked after he'd set his iPod down on the dock and turned the music on.

I knew that whether he'd heard about it or not, he wouldn't go, but I really wanted him to. He could use some fun and it would be nice to spend the evening with him. Elliott's brow creased as he came to sit next to me on the couch, and my body tingled from his nearness. "Will you go with me?"

He shook his head and I frowned. I hated that s.h.i.+t. I wanted him to use his voice. "Why not?"

"SSSSophie..." he said quietly, as if the answer should've been so clear to me. It was. He had anxiety issues and wasn't comfortable around even small groups of people, but I still wanted him to go.

"Th-there's t-too many p-people."

"But you could keep me out of trouble."

"I w-would llllove t-to go, b-but I c-can't."

I pouted, sticking out my lower lip a little.

"You c-could ssstay w-with me," he offered Dammit! I didn't want to stay in, but I wanted to be with Elliott as much as possible. Jace was bringing Chronic. That s.h.i.+t tasted like blueberries - f.u.c.king blueberries! It had gotten me so f.u.c.king high from just a few hits off his water bong. It didn't come around that often, and he was just going to smoke people out with it.

"I want to go to the party," I whined. "Please come with me."

Elliott looked down and shook his head as he squeezed my hand, which he'd been holding since he sat down. "P-please stay w-with me."

I stood up, slipping my hand out from his, and walked over to study his books. He needed some new ones. I'd already memorized each and every t.i.tle on his shelf.

I tried to focus on the spines of the books again, reaching up to touch the worn spots of a few. It was impossible to focus on anything other than Elliott as he got up and came closer to me again.

No matter where I went, he seemed to follow. Except to Cierra's party.

His very presence next to me set my body alight, but it wasn't just a physical response to his nearness; it was a warming in my mind, a softening of my thoughts. It was beautiful and real and terrifying all at once, and I felt like my head wasn't attached to my body as thoughts swam through my brain.

Elliott's earth and oranges scent swept over me just as the heat of his body crashed upon me like water on rock. It was insanely erotic and intense, and he wasn't even touching me. Our eyes were locked together and the rapid rise and fall of his chest mirrored my own.

I ached for him, and yet I didn't know how to get him.

I felt vulnerable and weak, powerless to that need.

I hated that feeling.

I moved away again, this time to study the strings of his guitar, and hoped that he'd grant me the safety of this physical distance. "Well, maybe we'll hang out on Sunday then." I was telling him that I wasn't going to stay in with him. I was going to the party.

Feeling fingertips at the small of my back, I turned to face Elliott, but couldn't bring myself to look into his eyes, so I stared at his mouth.

He licked his lower lip and again I was struck with the urge to suck on it for him. I went to do just that, but Elliott held out his hands and stopped me.

"Ssstay with me."

The music was loud and obnoxious, but I was feeling no pain since I'd smoked out with Jason to the point of not being able to get any higher. Even though I felt safer sticking by him, I had to get up. I couldn't just sit there while he smoked out more people. My control was lacking.

There was just no way I was going to turn down bong hits of that s.h.i.+t, and I really didn't need more of it.

It wasn't any better leaving the cramped little room because being as high as I was, I drank whatever alcohol I found. Megan kept talking and talking endlessly about one thing or another. At one point, she fell into Connor's lap, and then shoved him when he got a little excited about it. After that, she started talking about what a profound dork he was while taking sips out of my cup.

I hated alcohol.

But I kept drinking.

I wished Elliott had come with me. I completely understood why he wasn't able to, but I couldn't help but miss the h.e.l.l out of him. Anyway, he would've hated seeing me drunk.

I kept drinking until I felt sick. This alcohol was going to mess with my blood sugar.

I tried to find my way to the bathroom, but I couldn't find it.

I felt sick as my head swished this way and that and I leaned against the wall as I kept propelling myself forward. I took a deep breath and then it felt like I was sleeping.

I awoke, and I was moving. Not much, just up and down. When I opened my eyes, I realized that I wasn't moving up and down, I was moving back and forth. I was heavy; something was weighing me down.

I felt warm, moist air against my cheek.

I moved my hands up to my chest and pressed the weight away, but it wouldn't budge. It moved back and forth with me.

I blinked, my brain clogged and sluggish. The weight on top of me moaned low and deep.

s.h.i.+t.

I was f.u.c.king someone.

No, someone was f.u.c.king me.

I felt sick again.

The weight was a body. I looked down to where hips were between my parted thighs, and up the s.h.i.+rted torso.

Then I saw Chris Anderson.

I closed my eyes, knowing that I should've tried to push him off of me, but my body wouldn't respond to my brain. From the sound of it, he would be done soon anyway. I turned my head and tried to focus on breathing. Then I opened my eyes again and stared at the corner of the wall next to the toilet. There were cobwebs, but no spider.

I wondered if the spider was out spinning more webs or if it was stalking its food. Maybe it had left that web for a new home.

Maybe it was dead.

The cobweb looked old, and sort of frayed. One of Cierra's blonde hairs lay across it.

She needed to clean.

Her bathroom was clean-ish, but it had a cobweb and hair, and I was sure if I really looked, there'd be soap sc.u.m in the tub that everyone in the house just ignored and eventually didn't even see.

"f.u.c.k me."

I expelled a breath and involuntarily turned my head to look at Chris, and swallowed hard. Thankful that he was almost done, I stared at him blankly. His face contorted and his hips thrust at me in an irregular, quick rhythm.

When he pulled out, I rose up onto my elbows, scooted to a semi-sitting position and pressed my legs together. I watched as he pulled the condom off and threw it in the trash. He stood over me, pulling up his boxers and jeans.

Bile rose up in my throat.

"I told you," he said, leaning down and licking my top lip.

Finally I had no choice but to move into action. I scrambled to the toilet and lifted the lid just as the bile and alcohol overflowed.

As I emptied my stomach, I felt my hair being pulled back and felt his breath on my neck as one of his hands rested on my shoulder.

I wanted him off of me.

When I finally stopped heaving, I pushed him away as I stood up. I wished I knew what the h.e.l.l just happened, because I was pretty sure Chris's d.i.c.k had just been inside of me.

I felt sick again, so as I rinsed out my mouth and splashed water on my face.

What just happened?

I froze again when I felt him come up behind me, pressing against me, his hands on my hips as if we were lovers. I spun around quickly and pushed him back. "Quit f.u.c.king touching me."

I pulled on my pants and pulled down my s.h.i.+rt and left the bathroom quickly, trying to ignore the fact that I was sharing s.p.a.ce with him, and then located Jason. "Will you take me home?"

He was looking up at me from his spot on the floor. The stoned smile faded and he stood up. "Are you okay?"

I s.h.i.+fted on my feet, thinking how much I really, really just wanted to go home. I shook my head. "Can we go?"

We left after Jason collected his bong and lighter, and I smoked out of his one hitter on the way home. The ride was silent and he kept looking at me, and I kept ignoring it. When we pulled up to my house, he finally said something. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said quietly, not looking at him. "Thanks for the smoke and the ride home, Jace."

"I looked for you for a while, but I couldn't find you. Where were you?"

I shook my head and wished that he had found me. "I don't know."

"No?"

I sighed and let my head fall back. "I must have pa.s.sed out in the bathroom."

"Yeah?"

"I hate alcohol."

"So why'd you drink it?"

I pulled my hair back. "I don't know," I said, then unbuckled my seatbelt. "See you Monday." I got out of the car and snuck around back of the house. My body was heavy and slow as I climbed up the tree that was next to my window.

Tom had never given me a curfew, but I had snuck out anyway without even asking if he minded if I went to the party. He might have said that I could go, but I hadn't even explored that option.

My room was dark as I pressed the window open and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I should have left a light on for myself. I crawled through and as soon as I stood, I froze, because the wooden desk chair I had used to barricade the door lay in pieces, and the door was open, the light of the hallway illuminating my room.

There was a creak to my left and a figure rose out of the rocking chair. "I knocked several times." Tom's voice was low and I couldn't breathe. "I was worried and I..."

The floorboards creaked as he moved toward me. I followed my first instinct to go back out of the window, but as I turned, he caught my arm. I went limp, and I couldn't hear or feel anything.

My vision was beautifully blurred as a low buzz rang in my ears. My body wouldn't move, but I knew I was moving.

I had no idea how much time had pa.s.sed, but it felt like forever. When I was alert and could focus again, I looked around and found myself inside Dr. Dalton's home office. My legs were drawn up tightly to my chest and my arms were securely wrapped around them as I sat in the overstuffed chair.

My breathing was normal, but it felt as though my blood was pounding in my ears. "Your father gave you some insulin. You'll need to tell me if it's too much or not enough. Stephen gave you a cursory exam, but it's important you let me know how you're feeling."

I jumped, turning toward the voice. It was Wallace. I felt completely out of sorts. I had no idea how I'd gotten here. The last thing I actively remembered was trying to get out the window because someone was in my room.

"Your blood sugar was elevated quite a bit, and your blood alcohol level was incredibly high. Were you drinking last night?"

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was half past four in the morning. My mind was dusty and filled with fluff, and I didn't want to clean or clear it. I was happier when it was soft and fuzzy. I didn't want to remember the details. But Wallace had already said that they knew my blood alcohol was high, so I couldn't really lie about it. "Yes."

"Your father's very frightened."

I exhaled a deep breath and turned my head, laying it on my knees as I hugged my legs tighter. My father was the one in my room. He'd broken through the door. My desk chair had been wedged under the k.n.o.b and he broke through that too. The amount of force I imagined it would take to do that scared me. He'd been waiting for me. My lungs seized.

"He thinks he did something wrong."