Chapter Twelve
Avery
I’d been sitting near the tracks when I’d heard the crunch of gravel and seen the headlights from a car. Not many cars came out that way, but when they did, I’d take off to the trees and stay there until they passed. I hid in the trees and watched the car pull off the road and cut its lights.
The person inside didn’t move.
For a moment, I thought it was some druggie who’d come to the tracks to get high—it wouldn’t have been the first time. Or maybe a couple who’d come out there to have some privacy and screw. But then, I looked closer and recognized the make of the car.
Maverick?
I left the cover of trees and approached his car, wondering why he was just sitting inside. Why had he come out there? When the answer struck me—that he must’ve come to see me—my heart jolted and a strange surge of warmth went down into my belly.
At the window, I could see him staring straight ahead, and I tapped the glass to get his attention.
What followed was unexpected—and freaking hilarious.
Maverick shrieked and punched the glass, and once I was passed the shock, I started laughing so hard that I had to hunch over, put my hands on my knees, and try to catch my breath. The expression of horror that’d been on his face sent me into another round of giggles.
The car door opened, and I looked up to see Maverick grinning too, even though his eyes were still a bit wide with fear.
“Holy crap, Avery, you damn near killed me.” He released a half laugh, half sigh of relief before shutting the door. “All I saw was a dark mass move and then your face at my window. My heart is still racing.”
“So, you’re saying I have a scary face?” I asked, just messing with him.
He raised a brow. “In the dark, when I’m already scared shitless, and you have all that black around your eyes, plus pale skin? Uh, yeah.”
“Point taken,” I said, fighting off another laugh. When I met his stare again, he was watching me, and the smile fell from my lips. A brief silence passed between us. Now that the effects of him being scared had faded, and the laughter had subsided, the nervousness I usually carried around people returned. “So, what brings you to my side of town?”
“You,” he answered right away, and then his mouth popped open, and he cleared his throat. “I mean, uh, I was just driving around and it was a spontaneous decision. I had a hunch you’d be here.”
So many questions I wanted to ask. Why did he care so much? How was I even on his radar? Out of all the people he could have on his mind, why me? But I didn’t ask any of the things buzzing in my head.
“And, dude, how can you stand to be out here all by yourself?” he asked, and I was thankful for his awesome way at keeping the conversation going. “I know I’ve asked it before, but dang. It’s unsettling.”
Little did he know that I’d encountered worse monsters than anything that could possibly be hiding in those woods. Not much scared me anymore.
“I love the silence,” I answered with a shrug. “Hard to explain.”
“Try,” he said.
I turned around to walk back to my favorite spot.
If I was going to attempt to describe the weirdness in my head, I wanted to at least be comfortable. The clunky footsteps behind me let me know he was following, and I smiled at the sound and overall craziness of the situation.
In what world would someone like Maverick ever take an interest in me? Even as a friend, it seemed too out of the box. We were night and day—with me being the night, clearly.
“Whoa, you seriously sit this close to the tracks?” he asked, plopping down beside me. “Isn’t it a bit scary? I mean, a train could come so fast you’d have to haul ass or risk being splattered.”
“Just part of the excitement, isn’t it, big guy?”
My area was in the open, so the moon shone down on us, and since my eyes were adjusted to the dark, I could see nearly all details of his face.
He leaned in closer. “Are you telling me that you’re an adrenaline junkie, Avery?”
I looked at him and was taken aback by just how attractive he was—his square jaw, nose, and set of his mouth. It should’ve been a crime to be that good looking. The sudden closeness, and the way he’d said my name, caused my pulse to quicken and my breaths to shorten. Hopefully he didn’t notice.
“Maybe,” I answered, glad my voice didn’t shake. This was all so new; having a crush. If that’s even what it was.
“So, what is it about this place that you love so much?” Maverick asked, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them, studying the area with a curious expression. He was wearing a hoodie, but the cover didn’t hide how huge his muscles were. “You said because it’s quiet, but if that was the case, anywhere could do that. Why this one?”
Instead of immediately responding, I pondered my answer.
I’d never had to explain it to anyone before. Declan never asked many questions when I left the house, pretty much used to my weird tendencies. And my mom hardly knew about it.
“Think of it this way,” I started, mirroring Maverick’s position, but I brought my knees closer to my chest. “You’re in a crowded room every day. People are talking, mostly to each other and not to you, but you’re still among them. Still having to put on a show. And it’s not like anyone would understand you anyway, even if you tried to talk to them. They see you as a trouble maker because of the way you look or they think you’re trash because you’re poor, and nothing you can say will change that.”
I was well aware at how crazy I sounded, and I wasn’t sure Maverick was even following. But I continued.
“Then, at the end of the day, you’re emotionally drained. You need an escape, not just from the people, but from the person they perceive you to be. So, I come here.” I looked at the tracks and then at the gate with the blinking light on top that lowered when a train was coming. “It’s the closest I’ll ever get to another life. Like, if I sit here long enough, I can pretend I’m on a train, going somewhere else. Anywhere but where I am.”
Maverick was quiet, and even though I wasn’t looking at him, I felt his eyes on me.
“It’s the one part of my day when I can actually breathe, Mav,” I said before finally looking at him.
His features softened. “That’s the first time you’ve ever called me Mav.”
My stomach fluttered at the revelation. “Yeah… I suppose it is.”
“Does that mean I’m your friend?” he asked, and his voice was soft. Sort of guarded. As if he really wanted an answer, but was nervous for some reason.
I looked at the tracks as his question hung in the air.
He was the only person I’d ever been so honest with, and I felt vulnerable. Bare. Like I’d been stripped of the layers of defense that protected me from the world. From people who hurt me. But I also felt free, as if telling Maverick all of that had lifted a weight off my shoulders.
“Yeah,” I answered before moving my gaze back to him. “You are.”
I did consider him a friend. A part of me craved something more than that too, but I refused to go there.
Night and day couldn’t exist at the same time. One would always cancel the other out.
Why even try?
Maverick smiled, and it felt like in that instant, something in my chest began to crack. “I’m glad you think so. Because I feel that way too. About you.”
As we sat there, only a few feet from the rails, I wrapped my arms more around myself. Not so much to fight off the slight chill in the air, but more so to keep myself together.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” he said, titling his head toward me.
“For what?”
“If not for that pep talk you gave me, I probably wouldn’t have auditioned for the musical.” He grinned and turned back to look at the tracks. He spread his legs out, and they nearly touched the steel. “Even though I didn’t get the part I wanted, I’m still kinda happy I still went for it, ya know?”
A strange fluttering happened in my chest. “You’re welcome.” I focused on his legs, if only just to keep myself from staring into his eyes. “When you want something, you have to go for it. Put doubt aside and just dive in.”
Funny how I could give such advice, but not take it for myself. I let doubt basically rule my every day. Doubt that anyone would ever find me worthwhile once they knew the real me. Once they knew the secret I kept.
“What do you want with me, Mav?” I asked, too nervous to face him.
When I’d asked him why he wanted to be my friend in the past, he’d said it was because he liked the way he felt around me. But there had to be more. Something he wasn’t saying, and I wished he would.
For once, he didn’t look at me either. From the corner of my eye, I saw him staring straight ahead.
“Sometimes you can have your whole life figured out, know exactly who you are and what you’re doing,” he said, still not looking at me. I was now looking at him, though. Hanging on to his every word. “And then something changes.” Finally, his eyes met mine, and even in the dim light, I saw the hesitation, the confusion. “And once things change, you start seeing things differently. You see that the person you thought you were is a lie. That you were trying to be what everyone wanted you to be. Living in the box they kept you in.”
My breath caught in my throat as he moved closer. His face was inches from mine, and his breath fanned across my mouth. My skin tingled.
“I’m tired of being in that box, Avery,” he whispered, staring at me so intently that I had a hard time getting out my next words.
“A-a-and you think I can help you?”
“You already have,” he said. His gaze flickered from my eyes and to my lips.
And then he kissed me.
Now, to anyone else I’m sure it would’ve been romantic. The hot guy you’d recently realized you had a thing for said something sweet and then kissed you. A first kiss was supposed to be awesome and memorable. However, mine would be memorable for a completely different reason.
I punched him.
It was more of an impulsive reaction.
When my fist collided with his cheek, his head snapped to the left and he pulled back with a surprised grunt.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” I freaked. “I didn’t mean to!”
Maverick rubbed his cheek and looked at me, shock visible on his handsome face. “What was that for?”
“I… I…”
I didn’t know how to respond.
How could I tell him physical contact made me uncomfortable? That my dad had beat the hell out of me so many times, and when people touched me, it brought back those feelings of being closed in and helpless. Of being the victim.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, putting more distance between us. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Dammit, I just screwed everything up.” He stood up, but didn’t walk away. “I thought I was getting vibes from you that you liked me, but shit, I was wrong, huh?”
Not liking the rapid height difference, I stood as well. I wasn’t as tall as him, but at least it put us more equal than I’d been on the ground.
“It’s complicated,” I said, shaking my head and taking a step back. Making the gap between us even bigger. He’d taken it as I punched him because I wasn’t into him, when really it was because being touched caught me off guard and put me in a panicked head space. “I’m complicated.”
Something passed across his face.
“So it’s not me?” he asked.
“It’s not you,” I reassured him. “I… I like you, Mav. Probably more than I should. But it just… it can’t happen. I’m sorry.”
Without waiting for a response, I took off into the woods, getting as far from him as I could before I changed my mind.
“Avery?”
I kept walking.
“Hey, don’t go,” he called again. Rustling sounded behind me, as if he was trying to follow me. But I knew my way through the trees, and he didn’t. “Avery!”
Picking up my pace, I jogged through the dark. His calls echoed behind me, but then they drifted off before stopping all together. My eyes stung as I made my way through the dense woods that came out around my neighborhood.
We could never be anything more than friends. We were too different.
If he saw the real me—the scars, the self-loathing, the fact I’d never amount to anything—he’d leave anyway.
Why not just quit while I was ahead?
“You okay?” Declan asked as I came through the front door. He was sitting on the couch watching TV. Part of the screen was discolored because the TV was on its death bed, and we only got the free channels. His brown eyes narrowed, and he sat forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. “You seem off.”
Every other time he’d asked me, I lied. Or I’d brushed off my problems and made them seem less than they were. I hadn’t ever wanted to worry him.
I was tired of pretending.
“Honestly? No,” I admitted, feeling my eyes water. “I’m messed up.”
Declan came over to me, having to look down a bit since I was shorter than him. “What’s goin’ on?”
Staring at him, I fought for words. Too much was on my mind, and I felt like my head was about to pop off.
“I think I’m gay.” My confession didn’t faze him, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “But that’s not what’s bothering me.” My throat tightened and my hands trembled. “It’s just all of it, D. I like a guy who likes me too, but I can’t do anything about it because we’re not right for each other. And what if I’m not actually gay and I’m just confusing attraction for something else? What if we try and I change my mind?”
“Sounds like a lot of what ifs to me,” Declan answered. “You’re thinking way too much into this, A. If you like the guy, go for it. Who gives a crap about gay, straight, bi, whatever? Labels suck. If it feels right, it’s right.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“Why?” he asked in a louder tone. “Why can’t it be like that?”
“Because I’m screwed up in the head, Declan,” I said and something surged through me, making it hard to breathe. It felt like my body was on fire. I didn’t know if I was going to cry or punch something, but the feeling was intense. “I don’t know if I can ever trust him—or anyone—to ever let them get close to me. Dad really messed me up.”
My breaths turned to gasps, and I bent over to rest my hands on my legs. Images flashed through my head: me punching Maverick, the look on his face after I did, and the expression I now recognized as rejection that’d marked his face, along with the mark from my left hook.
“Dude, just take a deep breath,” Declan said, and he reached to touch my back, but he withdrew his hand right before contact. “What can I do?”
I usually kept my shit together for his sake. Seeing me that way must’ve worried him, but I couldn’t control it. I was done with feeling out of control, feeling like I was in the ocean with my head barely above the water. Drowning. I just wanted to be. To not have to think as much or agonize over every little thing. To be able to breathe and not feel like the weight on my shoulders was crushing me into dust… or pushing me under the waves.
I wanted it all to slip away until there was nothing but peace.
“Nothing,” I answered, straightening my stance and running a shaking hand through my long hair. I put the wall back up as I met his worried stare. “I’m okay. Sorry for freaking out. I’ve just been stressed and I guess it made me lose it a bit.”
And it killed me a little inside when he smiled, believing me.
“Okay, but if you need to talk, I’m here,” he said. “Jeopardy is on, if you wanna watch it with me.”
“Maybe later,” I said, offering the closest thing to a smile I could.
I left his side and walked down the hall. With each step toward the bathroom—toward my dirty little secret—I hated myself. I didn’t want to do it, but then I did. I hated it, but it was also one of the only things that helped me feel in control.
In the bathroom, I closed the door and turned the lock. I stood in place a moment, just staring at the spot I knew I’d go to, no matter how badly I knew I shouldn’t. My whole body shook, and it was as if there was this energy inside me that needed to be released.
It was more than energy, though, it was a wrongness.
Only cutting would help it leave.
I opened the cabinet beneath the sink and reached up to grab the plastic bag that held my own personal hell.
When my fingers took hold of the razor, relief flitted through me. As did fear. Not fear of the pain, but fear because sometimes, I didn’t want to stop. That was part of it, though—having that control of when I stopped.
If I stopped.
Not wanting people to see evidence of my cutting, I hardly did it on my arms. Instead, I did it on my upper thighs. After I unbuttoned my pants and slid them down, I sat in the bathtub. There were deep scars on my legs, while some were shallower. Some faded and some darker. Some were years old and others were fresh.
I placed the blade on my skin. One breath. Two.
Tears blurred my vision.
I applied pressure and suppressed a cry. But as all the disgusting parts of myself began trickling away, I didn’t feel pain. I felt bliss. A kind of euphoria I couldn’t get anywhere else.
As wrong as I knew it was, for that instant, I could only think about how it felt so right.