Page 14 of Erik

Valerie and I partied a lot, and it was only in that setting that I could bear being touched. Raves were the farthest thing from a dusty, crumbly house or barn, and there was no way to hear anything over the pumping music. I didn’t have to listen or see anything, and it helped.

But outside of that alcohol-strengthened bubble, I couldn’t. Slapping Erik in the face was the closest I’d gotten to touching a man in any way in almost thirteen years.

Shaking my head viciously, I grabbed a piece of garlic bread and leaned back against the counter to take a few calming breaths. When I walked back into the living room, Valerie glanced up at me with bleary eyes, and a frown dragged down the corners of my mouth.

“Don’t, okay, just . . . don’t.” Offering the piece of bread, I rubbed my face hard when my sister took it, and I dropped onto the sofa to take a swig of wine and sigh heavily. “I’m sorry for yelling, Valerie.”

“I’m sorry, too, Nat.” Leaning her head on my shoulder, Valerie nibbled her crusty bread with a little sniffle and I folded my legs under me as my stomach roiled dangerously.

14

Natasha

Stepping to the side to let Erik in, I quietly shut the door behind him, and he turned to me to block out the light streaming down from the ceiling fixture. My heart stuttered, and the blood drained from my face as he slowly, very visibly, brought up powerful, muscle-roped arms to brace his hands on either side of my head. Tension gripped me in a vice, and I couldn’t breathe beyond the dense lump in my throat.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I stiffened when Erik reached to touch my chin, the faintest whisper of the flat of his finger. He slowly leaned back, and a ringing grew louder and louder in my ears as the silence stretched.What the fuck was that for?

Now, Erik just stood there, watching, waiting, and anxiety curdled my gut as panic sloshed in my chest. My lungs screamed shrilly for air, and black spots assaulted my vision as I froze. The moment slid by on pins and needles, and goosebumps blanketed my skin as frigid, icy prickles strafed my spine.

Blinking hard, I snapped out of my daze somehow, and I gulped down the hard ball blocking my airway to wheeze a breath through my nose. Erik didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t anything, and I somehow managed to bend my knees enough to shuffle down the hallway. My wheezes filled the living room, and I craned my neck and tangled my fingers in my hair as the black spots edging my vision closed in. My heart threatened to squeeze through my ribs, throbbing painfully with the force of its beats, and my blood reduced to a thick sludge that barely moved in my veins.

I could feel Erik glaring at me as I practically threw myself onto the sofa. I could feel it on my skin how much he wanted to touch me, but he refrained. Labored breaths gradually got deeper once I was on my back, and my fading vision started to return to blur the popcorn on the ceiling.

“Shit . . . shit . . . ” Croaking hoarsely, I flung my arm heavily over my eyes, and my legs spasmed from the tightness that wrapped around my spine. My episode slammed into me so hard, so fast, that I couldn’t even panic, and it disappeared just as abruptly. In my dazed mind, I felt the cushion beyond my feet dip, and I rolled onto my side to pull my knees to my chin. Struggling to breathe, I shivered as the tension seeped from my body, and the ringing died down as blood drumming began to louden and replace it.

“I hoped it wouldn’t be that bad.” Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Erik spoke up, and I winced as his gruff tone grated my brain. A cold sweat slicked my skin, and I rolled my eye in its socket to glare at him weakly. His face showed everything he was feeling, and there I saw sadness and shame and anger despite the blur of my tears. “Does that happen any time someone touches you, Natasha?”

“I don’t let anyone touch me.” My rasp only tightened the scowl tucked in his goatee, and he leaned back against the sofa carefully. Sniffling hard, I pushed myself onto weak arms and dragged myself farther away, and I panted hoarsely with the effort. “Why? Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t think it would be that bad.” That wasn’t a good answer, but I knew it was the only Erik had. Frowning, my lips twitched uncontrollably, and I raked my hands through my hair roughly. “Did you remember, or—”

“Not anymore. It . . . it just happens . . . whenever . . . ” Licking my dry lips heavily, I shook my head a little, and Erik’s expression darkened out of the corner of my eye. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I stared at the coffee table blankly as emptiness invaded my mind. “So . . . that happened.”

“You know what happened that made my dad send me to a juvenile military school?” Casting Erik a dull look at the sudden change of subject, I shook my head again, and he tapped his fingers against the armrest as memories played in his eyes. “I shot some kid with a paintball gun right in the chest. I’m a really, really good shot, even back then. I wasn’t a small kid, but this other kid had like a hundred pounds on me or something. I was tall and skinny, and he picked on me because he was fat and self-conscious.”

“What happened?” Sniffing to unclog my nose, I reached a trembling hand to wipe my face, and a strange sense of complacency settled heavily on my shoulders. “He bullied you?”

“Oh, fuck, did he ever.” Stroking his goatee with his free hand, Erik shot me a sly look, but there was no smirk to accompany it. “I went to shit school in Virginia because my dad was stationed in Norfolk. This kid, his name was James, but everyone called him Jimmy Johns because all he did was eat shitty sandwiches. Anyway, his father was always deployed, his mom was unhappy, and he acted out a lot. In a place like that, it’s not something that makes you special. You don’t get special treatment or anything because a lot of kids’ parents were deployed. I knew this one girl who lived with her grandparents because both her parents were in the Navy.”

“That seems irresponsible.” Erik only shrugged at my mumble, and I closed my eyes as he took a breath in preparation. The demons that strained at the bit around the edges of my consciousness kept at bay by his voice, and a tiny ember of relief lit under my heart.

“Maybe. Back to the story. Jimmy was a huge kid, so he threw his weight around— literally. He’d knock me into lockers and push me in gym and shit like that. Everyone hated him, and he didn’t know how to handle the fact that no one liked him because he was a dick, so he acted like more of a dick. One day, he took my lunch that my mom made— I’ll never forget it. It was a roast beef sandwich with spicy mustard. They were my favorite. Jimmy took it and ate the whole thing in, like, four bites, and I was fuckingpissed. I left school and no one even noticed, and I got my paintball gun. I only lived a block from the school. Lunch hadn’t even ended by the time I got back, and I shot him square in the center of his chest at seventy-five yards as he was walking to the bathroom. That’s impressive for a twelve-year-old and a paintball gun.”

“Did you get suspended?” He snorted, waving his hand in dismissal, and a glimmer of curiosity sparked in my chest. “What happened when he tattled on you?”

“I got expelled, but so did he, so I wasn’t bitter. Also, my dad wasn’t even mad at that point. He was looking for a reason to stick my ass in a youth cadet program at that point. He didn’t make enough money, so he had to get a recommendation, and viola. Jimmy died from undiagnosed diabetes when he was sixteen, and I learned how to shoot at two thousand meters.” My lip quirked up at how proud he sounded, and it beamed in his eyes as he settled deeper into the sofa and crossed his knees leisurely. “I graduated at seventeen, like I said, but 9/11 had just happened, so I got my last three credits postponed until I got back from my first deployment.”

“When I was twelve, my dad witnessed a murder and got put in witness protection for a year, and they staged his death and everything. That’s what we thought, that he was dead. My mom was already an addict at that point— really, really bad. I was already this way, too. Valerie’s younger than me by six minutes, so it was my job to take care of her.” Gazing at Erik steadily, I rubbed my head with the butt of my palm as an ache sprung behind my eyes. “It wasn’t so bad when I told myself that. Sometimes, I even managed to convince myself that I liked it, you know. I got some money, and it’s not like it hurt anymore. One time, one of the guys gave me a bracelet. I pawned it for sixty bucks. That’s a lot for . . . that’s a whole week of food.”

“But then he got really mad when I didn’t wear it.” Fisting my hair taut, I tugged gently as icy prickles invaded my chest, and dread churned my stomach. “He grabbed my hair. I don’t know why, but it didn’t hurt. Maybe, I was used to that, too. They weren’t gentle . . . and they laughed a lot for some reason. That ugly, gross laugh, like they were disgusted with me and mocking me, and they were great, and I was dirt.”

“You never went to the police?” A scoff of a void laugh burst from my throat, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I shook my head viciously. “Why not?”

“That’s a stupid question. CPS is the worst thing ever.” There were no words to describe how much I hated CPS and everything they stood for, and I sniffed a shallow breath. Erik frowned but didn’t open his mouth to protest, and I blinked blearily. “Let’s cook something. I’m hungry.”

“Natasha—" I unfurled myself to climb off the sofa, and Erik bit back his words as I headed around the table and into the kitchen. Leaning my arms on the edge of the sink, I glared at the drain, and those ravenous dogs threatened to eat away at my brain if I kept talking. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I took a few, stabilizing breaths and sniffled before straightening my shoulders.

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