Heather

I bled for three days after waking up on the floor. I tried to tell myself that it was my first period. However, when the following month came and went,—and then another, and another,—my younger mind wondered what really happened to me.

I eventually started my cycle about four months later. I just remember being so confused and too frightened to ask questions. If I asked questions, then others would want to ask me questions. I still had to keep everyone safe. I could never say a word. I feared Ernest popping out of the shadows for longer then I care to remember.

Dad and Faith were so great to me. Faith was there when I needed her. I never told her about Ernest, but she helped me through those first few days, thinking I was having my first period.

I remember remaining confused, as my body continued to change. I’ve yet to become comfortable with all of the changes I’ve seen, since I was ten. I might be tall like my cousin, Bean, but I’m a hell of a lot curvier than she is.

Boys stare, men stare, I just hate the way it makes me feel. Most kids at school dress to fit in. I dress to hide. I always get compliments no matter what I wear, which for me, makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

‘Oh, Heather, you should be a model,’ or ‘Heather, you have such gorgeous hair and pretty skin.’ ‘Heather, have you ever thought of dressing up, you’re so pretty,’ I get tired of hearing it all.

I just wish everyone would leave me alone. Sometimes, I wish my life could be as simple as the characters in the books I read. I use their worlds to escape.

I need to escape because everyone’s so close to my truth. In all honesty, if it didn’t mean having eyes on me, I would love to model. Or at least, play dress up. I’ve always had a love for clothes and the latest styles.

Mom and I used to watch pageants together and all those cool shows on TV with models and fashion. That was before Ernest. I would look forward to going shopping with Mom.

She would buy me the greatest outfits and I’d play in her makeup at home. That was when I didn’t have to worry about being looked at. It was our time to bond.

Now, I have tons of magazines under my bed, of clothes I would love to wear. Things I would feel pretty in. I’m just too afraid to be seen.

I know people still see me. I get that I can’t become invisible, but I’ll do anything not to be seen that way ever again. There was this one substitute teacher,—he was young, closer to my age,—but I still felt uncomfortable with the way his eyes fell on me.

There was something creepy about it, just like Ernest. I feigned sick that day and took off for the nurse’s office. Later that afternoon, I was so grateful to John, Felix, and Toby.

They’re all huge to be in high school, which worked in my favor. I watched Mr. whatever his name was, heading towards me. The guys hanging out,—almost protectively around me, changed his mind. He took one look at the guys and turned in the other direction.

I’ve clung to the guys throughout high school. My freshman year, I was everywhere Wyatt went. No one fucks with Wyatt. With him and Noah was the safest place to be. I just avoided all of the parties they went to. Unless they were throwing one themselves.

If they were throwing one, I was safe. Aunt Cass was never too far away and all the guys would keep an eye on me, no matter what they were getting into. It’s like an unspoken rule. Make sure Heather is safe and looked after, before dipping off into any debauchery.

Unfortunately, today isn’t one of those days when I have the guys around. John, Felix, and Toby all play sports. Wyatt and Noah are in college. Brax and Ry are in middle school, and they’re playing basketball this year.

Nellie talked Bean into joining a few after school clubs with her. I’m not going next to the drama club and computers are cool, but not my thing. I’m better at keeping to myself. I’ve avoided the after-school club thing like the plague. Besides, Nellie’s leaving. After she’s gone I don’t think Bean will stick to the clubs much.

Unfortunately, everyone having something to do has meant a lot of lonely walks home the last few weeks. I could always wait around the gym for one of the guys, but I hate to be a pain. Anyway, I love the me time I get when I go home this time of day.

Mom,—well Faith, but I’ve called her mom, since she and dad got married,—she’s been working with dad at the office. Dad and Joe retired and started a private investigation firm together. They’ve been taking on bounties lately, as well.

Mom helps with the phones and billing. With her and dad at the office, most week days I get a few hours in the house to myself. It’s when I allow myself to go to my happy place.

I play in my makeup, dress up in the clothes I’d never wear out of the house, and dance around my room like a happy teen. It’s my little secret. I’d never let anyone else see me in any of that stuff.

I still buy nice clothes. You know, girly stuff. Nothing like the skater look I go for at school. Last year, I did the biker-goth thing. Dad looked a bit concerned with that look so I changed it before he started to freak out and pry.

I still get a bit of side eye from him, but I think I freak him out a little less, without the black lipstick and heavy, black eyeliner. Faith watches, but she doesn’t say anything.

Sometimes, I think my dad’s wife sees me more than she lets on. I think that’s why she tries to get me to come out of my shell. I love her, but I’m okay in here. It’s safe.

Someday, I’ll plan to let my guard down. I miss being girly me. I just haven’t learned to be comfortable being her in this body. I wish I did.

My shoulders sag, as I think of prom next year. I saw a dress that would be perfect. Too bad I would never wear something like that.

“Well, you have a whole year to get there,” I mutter to myself, kicking at a rock with my heavy black boot.

I smile at the thought. Just maybe, if I asked one of the guys to be my date. I would totally feel comfortable with one of them there.

Hope blooms in my chest. I really do love that dress. I’ve worked my ass off in high school. I want to go to prom next year. I brush a hand over my long locks and daydream of all the ways I could wear it.

“Well, look at you all grown up,” I hear an eerily familiar voice purr.

I look up and shock grips me. Standing before me is an unwelcome blast from the past. Crooked Nose looks down at me with a fond smile, as if we’re old friends.

“I’ve always loved that hair,” I hear come from behind me and ice fills my veins.

It’s been as long, since I’ve heard that voice, as it’s been, since I’ve seen my mother. From what I’ve overheard, my mother had another daughter. Not the baby they were concerned about when she dumped me on my father’s doorstep. She lost that first baby, but not before marrying Ernest.

I cringe at the thought of having a sibling from the vile man. I still can’t wrap my head around what my mother sees in him. Last I heard, they’d moved into a bigger house across town.

I feel his hand stroke my hair, before I hear him inhale too close for my comfort. On pure instinct, I turn, tossing my palm into his throat. I should run, but when he comes into view, I freeze in place. I can’t move. I just stand and watch as he coughs.

Crooked Nose roars with laughter behind me, but it still doesn’t snap me into action. I’m not ten anymore. I know I have a better chance at whipping Ernest’s ass. I just feel like I’m ten all over again. I can hear my breath wheezing in my chest, as I panic.

“You little bitch,” he hisses, causing Crooked Nose to laugh harder.

“I always liked this kid. You should stop fucking with her,” Crooked Nose says through his laughter.

“Fuck you, Eugene. Get in the car and mind your fucking business,” Ernest chokes.

“Whatever,” Eugene rounds me, moving to lean on a nearby car.

He lights a cigarette and studies me. “Kid, you okay,” Eugene asks, blowing out smoke.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’m thrown back in time, watching Skinny Man being beaten and then shot. I feel like I might piss my pants all over again.

That’s when it happens. Ernest starts to verbally berate me, but I’m not focused on that. My eyes fix on a bright flame like color off in the distance. It’s getting closer, moving faster and faster.

Something in my chest makes the sight click in my head. It’s Braxton, that copper hair gleaming like a fire ball in the sun. I really focus and I can see Ryan beside him.

They’ve come out of nowhere, pedaling forward on their bikes, looking as if they have a fire they need to put out. Even from this distance, I can see the determination on their faces.

Now, Brax and Ry are only thirteen and twelve, but they’re tall for their ages. In this moment, they look like avenging angels. One with red flames whipping around his face, he’s the first one to reach us. Braxton jumps off his bike and comes to my side.

“You okay?” Brax asks, looking me over. His copper hair looking wild from the wind.

I swallow hard and start to nod my head slowly. My eyes slowly slide to Ernest, who’s red in the face. His hard eyes glare back at me.

“This is none of your business,” Ernest snarls. “This is my stepdaughter.”

Wrong move.

Recognition registers in Braxton’s golden eyes. His head whips in the direction of Ernest. I can still see Brax’s face from the angle I’m standing at.

His features cloud over darkly. It’s like a complete transformation. My lips part and I begin to snap out of my own shock.

It happens so fast. Braxton punches the shit out of Ernest, right in his face. He goes for an upper cut, but Ry quickly grabs him under the armpits, restraining him.

Eugene jumps in between Braxton and Ernest, throwing a curious look at us all. I think the look I see in his eyes crosses between curiosity, annoyance, and amusement. Then it all changes, as his eyes focus on me.

“Whoa, Kid, we don’t want any trouble. My friend here just came to talk to the girl.”

Braxton totally ignores Eugene, he’s too far gone. “Get the fuck off me! I knew it! I knew something was wrong, I felt that shit,” Braxton bellows. “Get off me!”

“Keep that little bastard away from me,” Ernest growls, after spitting out blood.

“I’m so not fucking done with you. You stay the fuck away from her, you hear me! I swear to God. I’m going to end your life. Stay away from her or I’ll make it happen sooner than later,” Braxton roars, all while trying to break free.

“You piece of shit, I’ll have you brought up on charges for assault,” Ernest tosses back.

Eugene turns to narrow his eyes at Ernest. He steps a few inches out of the way. His attention now more on Ernest then on us.

“Just get away from us,” I snap back. “Leave us alone.”

“This is over, we have shit to do,” Eugene says tightly. He turns, walking over to the driver’s side of the car he’d been leaning on.

“This isn’t over. I have unfinished business with you,” Ernest hisses at me, but starts to back away, as Ry loosens his hold on Braxton and it looks like Braxton might break free.

“You go ahead and try me,” Braxton warns. “I have a million ways to kill your ass. I’ve been planning them, since I was six.”

“Keep talking,” Ernest laughs. “You’re nothing but trash. You don’t want to fuck with me. Jail is just one of the things I’ll use to make your life miserable.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” Braxton scoffs. “When I kill your ass, I’m going to stand there and watch you die slow. You hear me, motherfucker! I’ll be in no fucking rush. If they catch me. Oh. Fucking. Well.”

“Crazy son of a bitch,” Ernest says, with the first sign of fear I’ve ever seen in his eyes.

Wait…is it? My mind travels back to when I was ten, to the days before my dad returned. That look in Ernest’s eyes that I couldn’t place. I lose the thread of the memory just, as I get ready to pull it.

“You have no fucking idea what crazy is,” Braxton bellows. “And now I’m going to skin you alive for calling my mother a bitch. Just you wait, you bitch.”

Ernest looks rattled for the briefest of moments. All because of threats from a thirteen-year-old. Still, his bravado returns, as his eyes land on me.

“Big talk from a kid. His mouth just wrote a check for your ass he won’t cash,” Ernest says towards me. “I’ll be collecting, Sweetheart.”

This time, Ryan lets Braxton go, but I jump in front of Brax. I can’t let him get in trouble because of me. Eugene hasn’t gotten back out of the car, but I know what will happen if he does.

At the same time, I know Brax is serious as a heart attack. If he gets his hands on Ernest, he’s going to try to kill him. From the look in Braxton’s eyes, I think he would come close. I can’t risk him getting hurt in anyway,—not jail or by the hands of Ernest and Eugene.

“Brax, no, let him go,” I plead.

“Move, Heather,” he orders through tight lips.

I cup the sides of his face and force him to look at me. His rage filled golden eyes lock on mine. Only, they’re almost black with ire, not gold at all.

“Listen to me, he’s not worth it. Let’s go home,” I try.

“I promised you,” Brax says, almost sounding wounded.

My eyes soften. I remember his promise. It touches my heart that he remembers it too. I shake my head at him.

“Not today, Brax. Someday, but not today,” I whisper. “You still have a lot more growing to do, Kid. We’re not ready.”

“We,” Braxton frowns.

“Yeah, we. I’m going to be there, too. Someone has to get you out before the police come,” I grin.

Braxton’s lips turn up in the corners. He throws an arm around my shoulders. Tires screech, causing us to turn our attention to the street. I scowl and shiver, as it all comes crashing down on me how close Ernest had gotten. Braxton’s arm tightens. It’s like a comforting blanket in the midst of my own personal nightmare.

“I got into a fight before practice. Coach sent me home early. As I left school, I just had this feeling. I knew something wasn’t right. I’m glad I got here,” his voice cracks and a blush covers his face.

His voice has been doing a lot of that lately. I reach up and mess his copper locks. Braxton is going to be a lady killer someday, just like Wyatt.

“Thanks, Kiddo,” I reply.

Brax looks away, the color in his cheeks deepening. “I’m not a kid anymore,” he murmurs.

“You may be tall, but you’re still a kid. Stop rushing to grow up,” I tease.

“I can’t help it, I have shit to do,” he shrugs.

“Like what,” I laugh.

“Keep you safe,” he says, with a straight face.

I groan and palm my forehead. “Brax, that’s not your job. I’ll be fine,” I sigh.

“Sure, like you’ve been fine. Remember who you’re talking to, Heather. I see you and it is my job,” he returns.

I look up. “No, it’s not,” I press my lips.

“We’ll see,” Brax replies, with narrowed eyes.

“Whatever,” I huff. “Dude, I’m starving. Let’s go see if your mom is making cookies.”

Braxton nods, but something crosses his face. It’s as if he’s just remembering his own brother. He turns to Ryan, scowling.

“If you ever hold me back like that again. I’m going to fuck you up,” Braxton growls.

“Bro, you lost it. I could see that wasn’t going to go well,” Ryan sighs. “The other guy had a gun, didn’t you see it?”

“I really didn’t give a fuck. Besides, I didn’t tell you to follow me in the first place,” Brax mumbles.

“You’re my brother. I see you running, I’m running after you,” Ryan shrugs.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brax huffs. “Heather, you ride my bike. I’ll walk.”

“I’m fine,” I protest.

Braxton turns a glare on me. I lift a brow, but I get the feeling I don’t want to argue with him today. I walk over to his bike, climbing on, as he holds it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“It’s nothing,” Braxton replies, but I notice the blush that crawls up his cheeks again.

* * *

Braxton

Those pretty, sad brown eyes, her full bow lips, the way her lashes fan her cheeks, and her cute button nose. She didn’t get the Lockhart nose like Bean did. Heather has a mash up of her dad and mom’s noses,—it’s smaller, sharp, but still pudgy. The perfect fit for her face.

Her skin is so clear, with its warm brown color. Heather has the complexion of that actress, from that movie, Center Stage. Zoe Saldana, I think her name is. Heather’s long dark hair adds something to her face. Like the long strands are creating or hiding a mystery.

I’m one of the few people that knows what Heather’s hiding under those baggy clothes. Or at least, what she thinks she’s hiding. I look over at her riding on my bike and shake my head.

Heather thinks she’s hiding, she isn’t. Not as much as she would like to be. My blood boils as I think of the reason she’s been hiding for years. I wanted to gut that fucker.

I could’ve taken him. I know I could. Boy, am I going to kick Ry’s ass later.

I hadn’t recognized her stepfather at first. It’s been so long, since I last saw him. Yet, that look in Heather’s eyes. I knew right away I was dealing with the person that hurt her.

I can’t explain it. I got out of my last class and went to practice. Mark Rochelle was running his mouth because I took his spot, as point guard this year. I was already agitated for no reason, so I shut his ass up.

When coach told me to go home, I felt it in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get home. I needed to get there as soon as I could.

I knew Ry was on my heels, but I had no time to stop him. I would’ve done the same thing if I saw him take off the way I had. I just didn’t expect him to hold me back.

Had I lost it? Yeah, I could only see black. There’s no telling what I would’ve done if Ryan wasn’t there. I’m still lanky, I haven’t filled out like my older brothers, but I would’ve done some damage for sure.

I grin to myself, as images of that fucker’s busted lip come to mind. I would’ve loved to have landed that upper cut. Fuck, I need to hit the weights. I should’ve done more damage with that right hook.

“Hey,” Heather breaks into my thoughts, as we stop in the driveway to my house. Ryan has already dropped his bike to run inside.

“Yeah,” I reply, looking into her big eyes.

“I meant what I said,” she whispers. “Someday, one day, we’ll get him. When I know for sure he can’t hurt the people I care about. We’ll get him.”

“Hurt us how?” I wrinkle my brows.

“Nothing,” she says, turning away.

My curiosity is seriously peeked. If that fucker has been threatening Heather or my family, I plan to put a stop to it. One phone call and that guy can be dust in the wind. I’ll give up my dreams of being the one to rip him apart if I need to.

“Heather, what are you not telling me?”

“You do know, I’m the older one here,” she gives me a side glance.

“You act like I give a shit. Tell me how he could hurt us,” I demand.

“What are ye two conspiring about,” my mom calls, as she stands in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dishrag.

“Nothing,” we reply in unison.

I turn to narrow my eyes at Heather. Her eyes dart away from mine, as she starts for mom. This isn’t over. It’s time I start to do some digging into that asshat. Having a dad with a PI firm has it’s perps. I’ll get my own answers.

I’m not fucking around with that pussy.