The door creaked, and then not so silent footfalls hit the hardwood floor. I closed my eyes tightly, praying he would go away and not hurt me. Unfortunately, I didn’t believe in who I was praying to, because He had never helped me before, so why would He start now? Why would He care about a kid like me, who no one wants, no one cares about, no one gives a damn about. A Nothing. Except for Drew, the boy in the next room who had always cared. However, I didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want him to know.
Drew was all I had in this world. I couldn’t survive without him. I only had two more years before I could get out of here without anyone looking for me. Two more years to be legal, two more years and I was O-U-T: out. Two years, and Drew and I could get on with our lives, far away from here.
The footsteps came closer, and before I could breathe, he was above me. I didn’t see him, but I could feel his slimy heat. I hoped he would think I was sleeping. I hoped he would go away.
Hope was something a girl like me should never have, because it never came.
His hand trailed up my leg, my flesh rising with bumps of resistance from his touch. It was the Eww factor times a thousand. I wanted him nowhere near me, not even breathing the same air as me. Regardless, I had no choice. I never did.
“Reign.” His voice sang with humor, and if I wasn’t mistaken, slurred from too much drink.
Mr. Peterson had a problem with that, but I had never said a word, not wanting to stir any pots. I had been in enough foster homes to know it was always best to keep my mouth shut and mind alert.
“Reign,” he said again, but I feigned sleep while clocking his movements next to me.
When his hand glided up the inside leg of my shorts, my body went ramrod straight. I tried to stop myself from the movement yet couldn’t. In turn, I gave myself away.
Mr. Peterson pushed my shoulder hard, laying me flat on my back, and my eyes sprang open.
“I knew you were awake.” His face was sunken in, eyes droopy, and hair slicked back. What really caught my eye, though, was the smile on his face: devious, cunning.
On instinct, I gripped his wrist, trying to stop him.
I had been fighting for everything I had since I was six years old. Fighting was in my bones from top to toe, even though I told myself not to. Although I told myself to keep quiet, I couldn’t help myself. Some things were so engrained they never went away.
He full-out laughed, thinking my trying was a joke. “You think you’re gonna stop me? No, you’re gonna take those little tease of shorts off and fuck me.”
My stomach rolled and bile rose in my throat. This wasn’t the first time Mr. Peterson had come to visit, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. I hated it, but he always ended up playing the one card he knew he had on me.
“Please don’t,” I begged him, knowing he would do whatever he wanted and my words meant nothing to him, but I always felt the urge to try. He didn’t care about me or Drew. We were paychecks to him and his wife, and I was a toy to him.
He ripped his hand out of my grasp and began to pull my shorts down my legs. “You little slut, you know you want it.”
I fought, my instincts not letting me stop.
His hand came down hard across my face, and pain speared through it before red hot fire followed. My eyes burned with tears from the force as he tore the shirt from my body.
“You fucking little bitch. You want it hard? I’ll give it to you hard,” he said as I began to kick and use my long arms to hit and nails to scratch. “You want me to go next door and do this to Drew?”
My movements seized like my mind had finally caught up to my body in that exact moment. Cold ice seared my veins like a physical pain.
Mr. Peterson always threatened to hurt Drew; that was the only way he could get me. The only way I would stop fighting him, the only card he could play to get what he wanted. And the entire time Mr. Peterson did what he wanted to me, I thought of Drew and how I was protecting him, because he was the only one who mattered.
The door to my room flew open with a hard crash, hitting the walls and shaking them. Somehow, I got enough strength from the panic to get out from under Mr. Peterson and jump from the bed, my heart pounding.
“What the fuck!” Drew screamed loud enough to wake the entire house.
I scrambled, trying to find something to cover my nude body as tears spilled over my eyes and down my cheeks. I never wanted anyone to see me like this. No one … but especially not Drew. Never, ever Drew. I never wanted him to see me as Mr. Peterson did: a slut, a whore.
The pain on his face sliced through me like a razorblade. I felt more than exposed. I was turned inside out. Drew’s face twisted then, his upper lip curled, eyes narrowed and hooded, and his brows came together. He was disgusted at the sight … of me.
I felt worthless, ashamed, and completely shattered. I could have died in that moment and disappeared from the face of the earth from his one look at me. I was utterly gutted.
“You fucking piece of shit!” Mr. Peterson growled, standing up and pulling his pants up.
Drew went after him, clenched fist in the air, ready to make contact with Mr. Peterson.
“No!” I screamed as Mr. Peterson punched Drew so hard in the stomach I could envision each molecule of air pushed from his body in a gush. Then Mr. Peterson kicked him in the legs, pushing them out from under him and making him fall to the ground with a hard thud.
I ran to Drew, driven to protect him. I threw myself on his body, shielding him, but Mr. Peterson picked me up as if I weighed nothing and threw me across the room, which slammed me into the wall, narrowly missing the sharp edge of the dresser. I choked down the agony my body felt. I needed to breathe and stay focused.
Mr. Peterson stood just as Drew got to his feet, and in Mr. Peterson’s hand was a gun. I didn’t know where it had come from or how he had gotten it. All I knew was that it was pointed directly at Drew. At once, time stood in slow motion.
I screamed, knowing I couldn’t get over to Drew, knowing this was going to end badly.
As the shots went off, Drew fell to the ground in a heap, his bones like noodles, giving him no support. His green eyes locked on mine as the metallic scent of blood filled the room. I wanted to rush over to him yet feared moving. The bile from my insides churned, filling my mouth. I tried choking it back, but it burned.
Drew made some strange, gurgling noises along with some moans. Pain like no other speared me as I watched the spark that was my best friend in the entire world, my everything, slowly die in his eyes.
I woke from a sweat so cold I could have had icicles forming on my nose. I rubbed my fingers together, the nightmare so real I could still feel Drew’s blood between them. No.
I grabbed the gun beneath my pillow and threw off the blankets, looking around the space: white walls, chair in corner, and dresser against the wall. I moved to the first door, opening it and tossing on the lights. The bathroom had no one inside, just the standard toilet, sink, and shower. It didn’t slow my heart rate, though. Nothing would until I knew the house was safe. Next, I checked the closet, finding it empty. Windows locked. I opened the door to my room, flipping on the lights to the living room/dining room/kitchen, checking all the small areas and finding nothing. The sliding glass door and front door were locked, undisturbed.
Not until everything was checked did I let out a sigh, and it wasn’t of relief, because that never came. Never. To never feel safe at twenty-one years old was pathetic. Living in this apartment for four years and still being so scared all the damn time was pathetic. I couldn’t stop it, though. I couldn’t make it go away. The fear that they would all come back for me, find me, was too intense, so much so it was almost blinding.
I was forced into therapy when I was younger. That was what the foster care system did when they struggled to get a foster kid settled anywhere. They sent us to therapy to learn better coping skills.
I didn’t need someone to listen and twist my mental state. I just needed to survive until I could get out. I’d learned the hard way never to speak about what went on in the homes I was sent to. I was who I was.
But after running away five years ago, it was beginning to get ridiculous. Nothing had happened to me since I moved here. I was safe. I should have nothing to worry about, but damn if the nightmares didn’t keep plaguing me, the unease riding me hard every second of the day.
I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. Therefore, I pulled out my cell and typed: You awake?
Not seconds later, the response came.
Be over in a sec.
I’d met Andi two years ago at a waitressing job I still had. I was so damn closed off—hell, still was—but somehow, her happy-go-lucky spirit broke through to me. I didn’t know how, but her little ray of sunshine, no matter day or night, was the only thing that kept me sane. Andi was my positive in the midst of all the negativity.
A knock came to the door, causing my heart to pound at the sound. Checking the peephole, I was partially relieved to see Andi. The other part wouldn’t be relieved until she was behind the door and it was locked so I knew she was safe.
I threw open the door, grabbed her arm, pulled her in, and locked the door, all in one practiced swoop.
“Reign, you have got to relax a little,” she said, tossing her purse on the chair then plopping herself on the couch.
She had on sleep pants that had little, brown dogs all over them and a blue hoodie. Andi was what most guys called beautiful with long, golden hair that had a slight curl, and big, blue eyes that showed compassion I had only experienced one other time in my life. I was pretty sure that was what pulled me to Andi two years ago. Her eyes were never fake or clouded over.
She wasn’t out to fix me, and she never looked down on or pitied me. Every day for months, she would strike up conversations, but I wasn’t in a good place at the time. Hell, I was never in a good place, yet somehow, with her persistence and kind smiles, I opened to her, letting her in inch by inch.
Deep inside, I needed to believe Andi was true, so each day, I let her in a little more. It took six months, but she finally whittled her way in, filling me with sunlight I so desperately needed.
I fell down on the couch beside her. “Can’t.” She knew this. We’d been over it continuously. Nothing would ever change.
Andi reached over and grabbed my hands, pulling me so I had to turn my body sideways to face her. You would think this small touch was easy for me, but it wasn’t. It was gut wrenchingly painful and took what seemed like forever to allow.
After gathering everything we needed, Andi and I sat in the far back corner table of the diner with a shit load of sugar, salt, and pepper bottles to fill, and like usual, when the place was slow, Andi was rambling on about this and that. She never had a quiet moment. One would think this would be annoying, but for some reason, it wasn’t to me. I actually liked it.
The way she talked about simple things, like watching the sun rise and its beauty, put a new spin on the dreary, gray world I lived in. I didn’t buy into what she was saying, but it was a nice thought.
“My nana was wonderful. She taught me how to make peach cobbler. Sure, I was only seven, so I don’t remember much about how to make it.” She talked as if I were listening to every word, and I was. I wanted to hear her good stories, because I didn’t have those in my life. I didn’t really know they existed until Andi began her “talks” with me. Now, I sucked in every one of them like I was dying of thirst, dying to find something good in this miserable excuse of a life.
“I do remember her laugh and smile and how she’d scrape off the measuring cup with this flat thingy like it was the most important thing she was going to do all day, such precision and pride in what she was doing. Then we’d wash the dishes together.” She looked up from her salt container. “I was still short back then.” She giggled, and I liked that sound, too. It was another thing that had only been in my life when Drew had been there. A sound many took for granted, but Andi gave it so freely I let myself enjoy it for just a bit.
“We’d make these big bubbles and then start throwing them at each other.” She laughed full out, lost in her memory, her joy.
Her hand came out and landed on mine. I froze and stared at her hand like it was poison that was seeping into my pores. She couldn’t touch me. No one could touch me.
It took me merely a second to get my shit straight.
I ripped my hand away from hers, making the smile that was on her face disappear. It felt like a kick to the gut. I wanted to feel bad for doing that to her, making her feel like that, but I couldn’t breathe as the panic took over and my throat closed, suffocating me. I inhaled, but nothing was getting in my lungs. I was choking … on air. Then I was coughing on it violently.
I gripped my throat, and Andi came near me, reaching out to me to help, but I shook my head profusely and scooted back into the booth as far as I could, needing space.
“Reign, it’s okay,” she cooed like I was a small child, and in that moment, I was. “I won’t touch you. I’m gonna move back over to the other bench, but you’re gonna have to breathe for me.”
I nodded as she moved out of my space, her frightened eyes never leaving mine for a second.
I watched as the two lone patrons in the diner looked at me like I had every screw loose in my head. Little did they know they were right. I did, and those screws were all I had left.
I sat on the cushy vinyl and closed my eyes then took three huge breaths. This time, the air went in, and my body began to relax. When I opened my eyes again, Andi was staring at me like she didn’t know what to do with me. Hell, I didn’t know what to do with myself, but Andi was so damn patient, not pushing when she knew I couldn’t be pushed.
“You okay?” she asked, and I nodded. “You need anything?” This time, I shook my head. “Girl, you scared the shit out of me.” She heaved out a big breath, and I knew in that moment that Andi was a keeper.
Her touching me took months and months for me to allow. Andi suffered through many of my freak-outs and didn’t let the fact that I acted like I was burned with acid every time she touched me bother her. She was so damn patient. She kept at me until I felt comfortable enough for her to even embrace me, which I did eventually.
“Reign, you can’t keep living on no sleep.” I wanted to laugh, but she continued. “You’re young, and you were dealt a shit deal to start your life, but you’re free now. You’re free to live the life that you were intended to have.”
Flashbacks of Drew hit me like a heavy weight, pulling me down like cinderblocks tied to my ankles in the ocean, drowning. I would never be free to do anything.
“If they catch us, we are in serious shit,” I warned Drew as he pulled my hand through the door and out the back of the school. If our foster parents found out we didn’t go straight home, I was afraid of what they would do to us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Peterson have an appointment at four. They won’t be back until at least five or five thirty, so we have time,” Drew tried reassuring me, but I couldn’t help the fear that crushed me.
I didn’t want them to be angry at us. I didn’t want to suffer the consequences. Mrs. Peterson was good with her fists, but not as good as my biological father was. Mr. Peterson took his anger out on an entirely different level, and I wanted neither.
Still, I followed Drew. I would follow him to the end of the earth as long as he was there by my side. After knowing him for two years, he was my best friend, my only friend, my everything. He was the only thing that mattered.
He led me through the bright green grass, which was the color of his eyes, and out passed the football field, gripping my hand the entire time. I loved the small tingle just from his touch on my skin. He led me to a secluded area behind the far part of the field where he pulled me under a large tree then stopped and turned to me. His body was so close to mine I felt his heat on my chest.
That feeling in the pit of my stomach began as I lifted my hands to his chest and looked up into his eyes. They were telling me something, but my mind was so foggy from being this near to him that I couldn’t think.
One of his arms drifted around my back, tugging me closer to him. The other came up and cupped the side of my face. The gesture was so tender I had to fight back the tears threatening to spill out.
“Reign, I’m getting you out of here. I know we planned on waiting until we were eighteen, but I’m getting you out of that house.”
My stomach fell. I didn’t want him to know what was going on at night in that house. He couldn’t know, could he? I never knew for sure, because he never said, and I wasn’t about to ask.
“We don’t have anywhere to go,” I told him, something we already knew. Between that and the fact that the authorities would come looking for us, we had to stay in their house. Together.
How damn lucky was I that Drew and I had gotten into the same foster home and met? I felt like the heavens were finally listening to me and helping me, that someone up there gave even the slightest shit to put us together.
“I’m figuring it out. Six months, Reign. We’re out of here in six months. Sooner if I can pull it off.”
My eyes widened, panic clenching my heart. “What are you doing?”
“What I have to in order to get us both to safety,” he told me, but before he could say any more, his lips came down on mine. Although it wasn’t the first time he had kissed me, it was still so new I gave in to it completely, letting my mind and body only focus on Drew.
“Reign!”
My name being screamed snapped me out of my thoughts. I blinked away the memories and focused on Andi, who was mere inches from my face, her eyes gleaming with sorrow. I hated when she got that look for me. I didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for me. Ever.
“Thank God,” she whispered, pulling back and giving me space.
I scoffed. “You know I don’t believe in that.” I didn’t. How could I when He took away the only thing that was ever good in my life? How could I when whatever was up there didn’t take two minutes to protect me in my entire life? How could I when my life was something I didn’t want to live in? How could I when the sliver of hope He gave me in Drew was ground into dust and blown into the breeze?
Her hands tightened on mine. “Have you ever thought of going to his grave and telling him good-bye?”
I ripped my hands out of her grasp and pulled as far away from her on the couch as I could. If I could have made my legs work, I would have certainly gotten up and run as far away from her as I could. However, seeing as my legs were nothing but noodles, I simply sat there, staring at her, dumbfounded, my breath taking a vacation from my lungs.
She moved closer, my pulling away having zero effect on her. “Honey, I’m not saying this to hurt you. I just think it could help you. You never got to say good-bye.”
Tears streamed down my face. There was no point in trying to hold them back, because they would fall, regardless. Ugly sobs threatened to break from me. My chest was so tight it felt as if ropes were around me, squeezing the life out of me, the coarseness of it shredding my insides.
It was true. I had never said good-bye to Drew. The moment Mr. Peterson dragged Drew’s lifeless body out of my door then shut it was the last time I laid eyes on him. When I tried to follow, Mr. Peterson pointed his gun at me and threatened to shoot me, too. I wished he had. Then I could be with Drew and not rotting in a life that meant nothing to me. The pain would have melted in that moment, instead.
For the second time, I said, “I can’t.”
After Mr. Peterson came back, beat the shit out of me, and told me he was dead, I packed everything I owned, which was next to nothing, and ran away. I couldn’t look back; it hurt too much.
For almost a year of my life, I drifted. Each moment of those days, I wished Drew and I would have just run away, not caring where we would go or what we would encounter. Then he would at least be by my side, and I wouldn’t be so alone I couldn’t bear it.
Not once since his death had I ever thought of going to Drew’s gravesite. Some sick, twisted part of me didn’t want to let go of those last moments I saw him and replace them with him under the ground. I couldn’t help what rolled around in my head.
It was demented to think seeing him die before my eyes was more comforting than seeing him buried. It was almost like, if he was buried, all the memories I had of him would be gone, too. I would lose what little I had of him even more.
I shook my head. I couldn’t think of this.
“No,” I said on a choked sob.
“Honey.” She rubbed up and down my arm, trying to comfort me, but for the first time in a long time, her touch felt like sandpaper scraping my skin, so I pulled away.
“I think it’ll be good for you to say your good-byes. It will help you close this door of your life so you can go on living.”
My head snapped to her. “You think I want to be like this? You think this is fun? I hate my life. Hate it! I wish that asshole would have taken me instead of Drew or even with him, but he didn’t. Going to see Drew buried six-feet under isn’t going to make any of this go away. What if I don’t want to close the door on that part of my life? It’s like closing the door on Drew. I won’t do it!” If anything, I thought, it would bring back too much, and then the already deep pit I was in would open and suck me fully in. But maybe that’s what I needed. I needed to fall and just be done with everything.
“No. You were given a second chance.”
What?
“What!” The word came out full of rage and accusation. “You think this life is my second chance? You’ve got to be shitting me!” I jumped from the couch, my legs getting their function back due to my need for space from Andi. The room felt as if no oxygen was in it, and I was suffocating from lack of breath. The panic, the anguish, the emotions all consumed me in a rush. I felt as if I were under a powerful waterfall as the pounding flow crashed over me, pinning me down, keeping me helpless under the water. The weight of the emotions was drowning me.
She stood and followed me, obviously not getting the hint. “Reign, it is. You have a chance to live a life that you were meant to. Do you think Drew would want you to live in this hollow forever?”
As if the air in the room wasn’t strained enough, her words were a sucker punch to the gut. The room began to spin, and I gripped the chair in front of me to steady myself.
“Breathe,” Andi instructed.
It took everything in my power to make myself do that small task because what she said was true. Drew would hate what I had turned into. He would be disappointed in me, and that was one thing I never wanted. Ever.
As more tears spilled, Andi wrapped her arms around my body, and I went willingly, crying on her shoulder.
After what felt like forever and was probably an hour, I was all cried out. We moved to my bed where Andi easily climbed in beside me. She lay with me, the sounds of her even breathing lulling me into a restless sleep that left me waking groggy and aching.
Would I ever know what real rest felt like?