Twelve

Winnie

My throat is closing, and there’s not enough air left in my lungs to breathe. Stormy eyes pierce through mine, and rough hands squeeze my arms all the way to the bone.

“Let go of me!” I scream.

But nothing happens. I’m still suffocating.

His sweaty body pins me to the floor, and with my hands stuck by my sides, I dig my nails into the carpet—Jasper’s carpet. The more I beg him to stop, the rougher he is with me.

“Don’t make me use this, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls out a syringe from his back pocket and sets it next to me.

It looks identical to the one that hung from my father’s arm—same-sized needle, same-colored liquid. Only this one is still completely full of drugs.

“Please, stop,” I cry. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

He rubs his thumbs underneath my eyes, a move he’s done before, and for a second, I remember why I trusted him in the first place. The gentle touches, his caring words, and his sweet smile. It was all a lie, one fake gesture after another.

“You’re safe with me, Winnie,” he promises. “I’ll never hurt you.”

Doesn’t he realize he is hurting me?

“You told me I could trust you,” I tell him as more tears trickle from my lashes.

Crying is a weakness. A weakness they always laugh at.

Jasper’s not laughing though, just smiling. A smile becomes worse than laughter because I believed the smooth curve of his lips meant something.

“The only person you can trust is yourself.”

 

When I open my eyes, I expect to see the familiar wood paneling I wake up to every morning. But, as I lift my head, I don’t recognize the room or the back of the person covered up beside me.

After I check to see if I’m wearing clothing or not, I pull back the covers and slide out of bed. The door opens after a quick jerk of the handle, and I go left, the only option at the end of this long hallway.

When I find the bathroom, I close the door behind me, but it doesn’t have a lock, so I stand in front of it. My eyes search for something sharp on the countertop and then in the shower.

All I find in both places are some hand soap, toothpaste, and bubble bath. The Elmo bath toys with their painted-on smirks laugh at me, like they know what I’m trying to do. I never did like cartoons much; childhood glee and happy endings weren’t reality. They were made-up adventures that were so far-fetched, people had been paid to think them up.

Reality was death and dying, drugs and dealers, darkness and touching.

Inside the closet, the towels are neatly stacked by color, and the only thing close to what I’m searching for is electric and needs to be plugged in.

Beneath the sink, I find a box of Band-Aids and some tissues. I might need both of those, but I close the cabinet anyway.

When I slide open the vanity drawer, I reach inside and pull out a yellow disposable razor. If I bang the tip hard enough against the porcelain sink, the plastic will break away from the blade. I should know; I’ve done it more than once.

“What are you doing?” Jasper asks.

I was concentrating so hard, I never heard the door open behind me. And, now that Jasper sees me standing here, holding a razor in my hand, there’s no denying what I need.

“Get out,” I tell him as a mixture of shame and denial twists around in my stomach.

I don’t even feel the tears on my cheeks until he reaches up and brushes them away with his thumbs, just like he did in the dream.

“You’re shaking, Winnie. What happened?”

“You happened, Jasper. I trusted you.” I gulp in a mouthful of air. “At least, I think I was trying to trust you.”

“It’s not easy for you,” he says. “I get it. But you trusted me enough to come home with me, and you fell asleep next to me.”

“What about the other stuff?” I ask him.

“What other stuff?”

I think back to before I opened my eyes—the syringe, the way he gripped my arms and left bruises, the thickness of the carpet. All of it was so real, like it was happening right that second. But, when I glance at my skin, there aren’t any marks. And, when I opened my eyes, I was lying next to Jasper, not beneath him.

“I was dreaming,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He stares at the razor in my hand. “Don’t be sorry, Winnie. Let’s go back to bed, and we can talk.”

It’s pretty obvious what my plans were. But I can guarantee that Jasper had no idea I was a cutter. Nobody ever guesses, and I’ve hidden my little addiction so well, there’s only one person in this world who knows my secret. Since he disappeared, I’ve had nothing to worry about.

Until now.

Until Jasper.

His hand reaches for the razor, and if I were anywhere else, I might fight him for it, but this is his bathroom, his house. And, if I put up a fight, it’ll wake his mom up. I don’t know what I was thinking, leaving his room and risking running into her.

“I wasn’t going to hurt myself,” I tell him.

“You weren’t going to shave your legs either though, right?”

I shake my head. “I’m not crazy. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

He wraps the razor in toilet paper and tosses it into the wastebasket. “I’m not even going to tell you what I’m thinking.”

There it is. The judgment. The theories about how screwed up I am.

Why would I want to kill myself or leave permanent scars on my body? But that’s the thing. I don’t want to do it. I have to do it. And no amount of explaining will make Jasper understand that. There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe my thoughts. Unless he’s able to climb inside my brain, he’ll never know what it’s like to be me.

We’re both quiet until we’re back inside his bedroom and the door is shut.

Jasper fixes the blankets and climbs back into bed. Once he’s situated, he pats the mattress next to him. “Lie down. It’s still early.”

“I should leave before your mom finds me.”

He glances at the clock and lies back down. “She’s already gone.”

I want to ask where she went this early in the morning, but it’s none of my business. “I’m not going to be able to sleep,” I tell him.

“Do you have nightmares every night?” he asks.

“Sometimes. I’ve never had one about you before.”

Jasper holds out his hand, and I want to take it. I can’t though. Not when I can still feel his fingers digging into my skin and his breath tickling my ear as he laid his entire body weight on top of me.

I give him as much as I can and sit down on the side of the bed. “I wish I weren’t so messed up.”

“What happened to you?” he whispers. “I want to take it all away, but I don’t even know where to start. You’re scared of me. I see it in your eyes.”

“It was just a dream,” I tell him. “I’ll get over it.”

“You shouldn’t have to get over anything. You shouldn’t have nightmares in the first place. I don’t know who or what made you like this, but I swear, if I ever figure it out, I’m going to end it.”

The sooner Jasper realizes he can’t fix me, the sooner he’ll walk away. He’ll give up on me like everyone else has. And then I’ll tuck all his good qualities into my memory box, throw away the bad ones, and move on—alone.

As much as I don’t want to be alone again, there’s nothing I can do to prevent it from happening. If and when the day comes, I’ll let Jasper go without a second glance. But, until then, I think I want to try to be friends. Because, when I close my eyes and think about the dream I had, I know it wasn’t Jasper’s eyes looking back at me. His hands weren’t the ones wrapped around my arms either. And the voice didn’t match the guy lying a few inches away from me.

I might never figure out whose eyes keep torturing me, and the dream will continue to invade my sleep no matter what, so why not hold on to a little piece of goodness while I have it?

I move the pillow from between us and lie down as close to Jasper as I can without actually touching him. The sound of his breathing makes me shiver, and when his pinkie touches mine, I smile.

“Jasper?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. But mostly for being my friend. I’ve never had a real friend before.”

“What about a boyfriend? Have you had one of those?” His voice is soft and lacks his usual confidence. He even keeps his eyes closed as he waits for my answer.

I’ve only held one title in my lifetime, and that is slut. Guys always assume I put out because of whom I live with. If Tess is my role model, then, surely, I must be just like her. What they don’t realize is that I do whatever it takes to be the exact opposite of her.

But a boyfriend? There’s only been one person I’ve had feelings for, and that was never meant to be.

“No, Jasper. I’ve never been with someone I loved.”

He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at me. I don’t have to look back to know that he’s trying to figure out what I mean. I left out all the details, but still, enough is there for him to put the pieces together.

“I’m going to win you over,” he says as he links our pinkies and then the rest of our fingers until we’re holding hands. “I’ve watched you since you moved into the trailer park. As creepy as that sounds, I promise you, it’s not.”

“If you don’t want to sound creepy, then you probably shouldn’t tell a girl that you’ve been watching her without her knowing. It’s a definite deal-breaker.”

“You’d really write me off? Before you gave me a chance?”

“Probably,” I whisper as he rubs his thumb back and forth across my wrist. I don’t know why I let him do it. It’ll only lead him on and give him the wrong impression. I’m not girlfriend material. The only things I can offer him are my words, and even then, I struggle.

“Whether you realize it or not, you’re giving me a chance right now, Winnie.”

“Jasper, you don’t want me. Not the real me.”

“I couldn’t stop wanting you if I tried—especially after last night.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I close my eyes as I wait for his answer, praying that I didn’t walk right into his trap by agreeing to stay here.

“We slept together, Winnie.”

All the security he gave me vanishes, and he becomes like all the others. Now that the first lie has passed through his lips, he’s laid the foundation. Each lie will continue to grow and expand, outdoing the one before it. I want nothing to do with Jasper.

He grips my hand harder when I try to let go of his. “If I wanted to, I could brag and slap that news all over social media,” he says.

Without a cell phone or a laptop of my own, I don’t have social media accounts. I’ve seen them at school, and nine times out of ten, there’s drama because of something someone posted.

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing. It wouldn’t be any fun anyway since I can’t tag you.”

“Do what you have to,” I tell him. “You will anyway.”

He turns his head and stares at me. “Winnie, I’m kidding. I’d never do anything like that.”

It’s hard for me to trust him, but I nod anyway because I want to believe Jasper. “Who was your last girlfriend?”

“Real or imaginary?” he asks.

I’m not the least bit surprised he’s had both. I get the impression that Jasper lives in a dream world sometimes. Kind of like when he says he likes me. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know anymore.”

“Well, for the record, you’re the answer to both.”

This time, it’s impossible to hide my smile from him. As hard as I try, I can’t keep my lips from parting and my teeth from showing. “You’re so full of it, Jasper.”

I let go of his hand and climb out of bed. His bed is nicer than mine, but I can’t stay with him forever. The sun’s risen, and I need to get back home before Tess realizes I’m gone. I’ll be in so much trouble if she’s already checked my room and seen the empty bed.

My clothes are folded neatly on top of Jasper’s dresser, and after I grab them, I go into his closet and close the door. Using the bathroom isn’t even an option. Just like every other morning of my life, I dress and undress away from the windows and doors. I’m only comfortable being naked in the complete darkness.

In the dark, I can’t see the scars on my thighs or the parts of my body that no longer belong solely to me. When I do catch a glimpse in the mirror, I’m reminded of all the touches and kisses that I never wanted. All the pain that didn’t have to be.

Jasper doesn’t comment on my strange changing habit and lets me get ready in silence. If he wants a friendship like he says he does, he’ll see the way I live my life isn’t at all like the way he lives his. He doesn’t have to protect himself; he’s already protected.

He leads us down the stairs, through the living room, and to the kitchen. There, he pulls a banana off the bunch and takes a blueberry muffin off the plate on the counter. They look freshly baked, and I can’t tell you the last time I sank my teeth into a muffin.

Last night, I would have refused the food, but this morning, I’m too hungry to argue about money or paybacks. Until I get to the grocery store, the empty shelves in my bedroom closet where I keep my food stash will continue to collect dust.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “I’ll eat on the walk home if that’s okay.”

Jasper opens the back door, and I’m shocked when he closes and locks it behind him.

“I know the way home.”

“I’m sure you do, but I’d rather walk with you.”

He doesn’t come right out and say it, but he’s still worried about the guy on the porch. Why else would he want to walk me home in broad daylight? If I’m lucky, whoever was waiting for me last night won’t come back. But, until I can be sure that Tess hasn’t gotten herself into another bad situation with her revolving door of men, I’ll stay locked inside my bedroom, and I won’t answer the door.

Jasper guides us through a different hole in the fence, the one he uses when he walks through the park on his way to The Whip. It’s not as narrow as the one we snuck through last night, and there aren’t any tree branches knocking us in the face. This path is well worn and traveled often.

The silence continues until we’re side by side and my trailer’s close enough to see. Jasper clears his throat, and I laugh because it’s so awkward. We just slept in the same bed and held hands, and now, you’d think we were strangers. Maybe that’s why it’s weird though because we did touch, and there are feelings involved—at least, on his side of things.

“Just spit it out,” I tell him. “Before you chew your lip off.”

Smirking, he says, “Am I that obvious?”

“A little bit.”

“Sorry, I’ve never done this before. I know we’re friends, but you’re different, Winnie. You’re not like anyone else I know.”

He means it as a compliment, and I try my best to accept it that way.

“Are you working tonight?” I ask.

“I probably should. You?”

“I have to.” I need the money.

The next time I walk through the bar doors, I plan on keeping my head down, doing my job, and avoiding drama. The last thing I want to do is get Jasper in trouble. And, since trouble seems to find me wherever I go, I need to be careful.

“I’ll come by and pick you up. Same time.”

“Jasper.” I want to argue with him and tell him that I’m capable of walking to work alone. But one glance at him, and his eyes become a security blanket I never knew I needed. “Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll be ready.”

Jasper grabs my arm and stops walking. I almost trip over my own foot, but he steadies me.

“Do you know that person, Winnie?”

I glance at the figure sitting on the curb beside my mailbox, scrolling through his phone. If Jasper hadn’t mentioned it, I would have kept walking and never noticed.

“I don’t know.”

The man looks up, and I gasp. And then I take off running toward him.