Page 3

TWO

WESLEY

Death and sin sticks to my skin and drowns me….

I wear it like a shroud, pulled tightly around me…

The demons that plague my dreams get off on the debauchery…

Nightmares come true, but just like you

They’re hard to hold on to…

One day I’ll have you in my grasp, and I’ll own you.

And you’ll be mine, my twisted deadly valentine.

Words pour from me as the sounds of banging and moaning come from the next room. My stomach roils as I try and fail to ignore my mother getting fucked by one of her johns. They’ve been at it for nearly an hour, the noises almost inhuman.

I can’t fucking wait to leave this house.

I turn the music in my headphones up as loud as I can, but the volume isn’t the best, and the sounds of sex still sneak through.

Still, I try to ignore it as the words for another song almost burst from me. My fingers itch to get to Jax’s guitar to strum the chords. It’ll be a grittier song, nothing like the ballads I usually sing only for him.

Well, it wouldn’t be Jax’s guitar anymore, would it? It’s mine.

I have a guitar.

For the first time in over a week, I smile. Jax gave me his guitar. Sure, he doesn’t play it often, but it’s an expensive instrument, a Fender American. A guitar I could only dream of owning, and he just…let me have it.

With one last loud grunt, the moaning on the other side of the wall falls silent. But it doesn’t last long. Not even five minutes later, the bed thumps against the wall, and moans and groans drift through the air once more.

Usually, I’d be able to tune her out, but it’s impossible tonight. I’m still raw from last week, and the sounds of pleasure make bile rise in my throat.

Fuck this shit. I’ll go over to Jax’s house. His mom said I could come over. I don’t have a way to call her to pick me up, but I don’t think she’ll mind if I walk this one time. At least I hope she doesn’t.

I pack a bag of filthy clothes and tuck my notebook at the bottom of the bag. Maybe I can wash my school clothes without Mrs. Collins knowing. Their washer and dryer are in the basement, so there’s a good chance I can get away with it.

Once I’m packed, I open the door as silently as I can, though I shouldn’t worry. The loud screams and moans coming from my mom’s room drown out any noise I make.

Before I can take more than two steps, a hard slap lands on the back of my head, and I stumble into the wall, barely catching myself from falling.

“The fuck you think you going, you little shit?” Perry asks.

He isn’t my mom’s first boyfriend that makes her sell herself so they can get money for drugs. But he is the first one that has used me as his punching bag when he’s done beating up my mom.

I stand upright, my hand on the back of my head. “Out.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘out’?” He moves quickly, grabbing me by my throat and pressing me against the wall. I try to push him off, but he slaps me across the face hard, stunning me as blood flies from my lips. “You don’t fucking leave here without my fucking permission.”

I glare at him, but my body doesn’t respond to my commands to get away. It’s like I’m frozen, unable to do more than breathe and blink.

Perry grins at me, that familiar glint in his eyes. My stomach lurches, and my heart pounds. Please, no. Please, please, please.

God no.

But no matter how much I pray or beg an unseen god or spirit, I’m not so lucky. Perry pulls me away from the wall and tosses me toward my room, making me trip over my feet and fall to the floor. “Get in there. Your mom is tied up, so you’ll have to do.”

Instead of asking an invisible man in the sky, I look at Perry from my hands and knees, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “Please, don’t. ”

I beg and plead with him, hoping that this time, he’ll stop. That he’ll leave me alone, that he’ll wait for my mom to not be “tied up” as he called it. But I’m never so lucky.

Before I can cover myself, he kicks me in the stomach. My breath is knocked out of me, and I roll to my back, coughing and wheezing. “Stop…” I rasp, willing my body to move, but nothing happens as I try to catch my breath.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses, then kicks me again and again.

My vision flickers, going black around the edges. There’s nothing I can do as he drags me deeper into my room by my hair and tosses me onto the floor. I can barely move my arms to stop him from snatching my pants down and I can only whimper miserably when he shoves inside me.

I’m almost glad I weave in and out of consciousness. The pain is there—holy fuck it hurts so bad—but I’m able to disappear and get away from it for a few minutes at a time. I don’t have to hear his harsh taunts, feel his meaty hands on me, or concentrate on his intrusion.

All I have to do is survive.

I must pass out because when I come to again, there’s no heavy body pressing me into the carpet, and my pants are back in place.

My mom is beside me, running her fingers through my hair.

With effort, I pull away from her, not wanting her to touch me like Jax touched me. She can’t take that memory from me.

She huffs and has the nerve to look upset that I don’t want her hands on me.

“The fuck is your problem? Perry said you copped an attitude with him, and he had to smack ya around.” She pops the gum in her mouth obnoxiously.

“I told you to leave him be. Stay out of his way. Ya life will be betta for it.”

I stare at her in disbelief. She has to know what he does to me. There’s no way she doesn’t. For the past six months, he’s been coming into my room and beating my ass before he rapes me. How could she not see that her boyfriend is a fucking predator?

“Mom,” I whisper, pushing myself up on shaky arms. “Perry?—”

She holds up a hand, silencing me. “Don’t wanna hear none a ya lies.

Here.” She reaches into her bra and pulls out some tin foil.

She opens the packet to reveal two tablets.

When I don’t grab them, she rolls her eyes and puts them on the floor in front of me.

“Take these. You’ll feel like you’re flyin’.

” She stands up and looks down at me, and I see a flicker of… something in her eyes. Guilt? Regret?

My confirmation that she knows what just happened to me, what’s been happening to me, and won’t help me. She’s not a safe place for me. Even though I knew that, the realization doesn’t hurt any less.

My heart constricts, and I have to fight back tears at having it confirmed: my mother is letting her boyfriend rape me, and she’ll never do anything about it. She’ll never protect me.

A soft sob slips past my lips, and I turn my head so she doesn’t see how much she’s hurt me.

In a soft voice that sounds more like the mom I used to know, she says, “It’ll take the pain away.” Then she twitches out of my room on sky-high heels, her skirt askew.

I stare down at the pills. Can they make me feel better? Can they make me forget? I want nothing more than to forget what just happened, what’s been happening for almost a year. I want to pretend that my life isn’t shit, that I can get out of this hellhole and make it as a big-time rock star.

I can be someone that isn’t a victim, that isn’t taken advantage of.

That isn’t weak.

With shaking hands, I pick up the pills and toss them back, swallowing them dry.

A few minutes later, I feel…floaty. My head is in the clouds, and a sense of euphoria overtakes me.

Fucking finally.

I lie on the floor, soaking up the light feeling. The pain…down there is gone. I feel almost normal. I can go see Jax now. If I feel good now, he can make me feel better.

I don’t know what it is about him. He sees me , in a world where I’ve been all but ignored.

I’ve been half in love with my best friend since the first day we met and as the years pass, the fondness for him only gets stronger.

I think he feels the same, but neither of us has said anything.

And I won’t, not until I get out of here.

When I get my record deal and get my big-time contract, I’ll take him with me and show him the world.

I’ll treat him as good as he’s treated me.

Clumsily, I get to my feet, weaving back and forth as if the ground under me is uneven.

I bump into a wall and slide down to the floor, but it doesn’t hurt.

I feel nothing . I chuckle at the foreign feeling, but I don’t hate it.

In fact, I could get used to this. Not hurting, not thinking, not wanting to fucking die all the time. Just existing in a bubble of euphoria.

When I get my feet under me and I’m sure I can walk in a straight line, I scoop up my bag and head out the door.

Between one moment and the next, I’m at Jax’s window, tapping on the glass. I grin when he flicks down his blinds and sees that it’s me.

He raises the window and steps back, allowing me to struggle inside.

It’s not as easy today, since I can barely feel my limbs, but I manage to make it inside, only after tripping over his wastebasket and falling heavily.

I giggle as my face presses into the carpet.

Fuck, it’s soft. It feels so good against my cheek, so I rub against it. I laugh again as the fabric tickles.

“Shit, you okay?” he asks, gripping under my arms to heave me off the floor.

I think I mumble words, but I can’t be sure.

“Wesley?” Jax says my name, and his voice snaps something inside me. He sounds…worried. No one is ever worried about me. No one really cares.

No one but Jax.

I struggle to my feet and collapse on his bed, my eyes closed. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“You’ll wake the fucking neighborhood with how loudly you’re talking.” I hear him walk across the room and shut his window. “You okay? You look…weird.”

I can’t tell him I’m high as a fucking kite because my mom gave me pills after her boyfriend raped me. It’s already hard enough to get him to keep Perry’s ass whoopings a secret. If he knew everything? He’d for sure tell his nice mom and lawyer dad.

“I’m good, Jax.” I’m slurring my words, but whatever. Nothing matters other than not feeling the pain .

When I open my eyes, I meet the steel gray eyes of my best friend.

The only person that gets me. He’s so perfect, dark brown hair that is always in place, even when he’s been lying on it all night, pretty lips that I have to fight not to kiss when he’s near, and thick eyebrows that are raised up high on his forehead.

“Wes, are you drunk?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m sleepy. Can we sleep?”

“Yeah, okay.” Jax maneuvers me on the bed, and I laugh again. His hands on me are the only ones I tolerate. Ever since we met, Jaxon has been the only one that can touch me without me flinching away. Maybe it’s because I’m in love with him. Maybe it’s because he truly cares about me. Who knows?

Shit stops being funny when he takes off my shoes and pulls at my pants to remove them. The fog I’m in snaps, and I’m sucked back into my assault. The hands on me, the heavy breathing against my neck, the taunts, the noises, the smells, the sounds.

“No!” I yell, pushing Jax off me until he falls on the floor.

“What the fuck?” he asks, peering at me with wide eyes. “Wes, what’s wrong?”

My breathing comes out in bursts, and my head spins. Sweat dots my brow as the memories of tonight and all the other nights assail me. There isn’t enough air in the room, even though I’m surrounded by it. I can’t…pull in any…there isn’t enough…I can’t…

“Wes,” Jax says, his voice calm and strong. “Look at me.”

I try, I really do, but my gaze can’t catch his. My eyes dart around frantically, and I can’t…focus.

“I’m right here,” he says and puts his face in my line of sight. But he doesn’t touch me. He keeps his hands on the bed in front of me so I can see them as I’m peering into his eyes.

I must look a fucking mess, but Jax is steady. So fucking steady that my breathing starts to slow and my heart rate evens out. All we do is breathe together, but fuck…it’s everything.

Once I’m almost back to normal, Jaxon asks, “You ever have a panic attack before?”

I shake my head. Is that what that was? It felt like I was having a fucking heart attack and being suffocated at the same time.

“You do?” I ask, needing someone to understand, hoping he can be the one who does.

“No,” he says slowly. My face must reflect disappointment because he quickly says, “My mom does. She was in a bad car accident when I was like ten. I learned to help her calm down when my dad wasn’t around. You good?”

I nod and pull my knees to my chest. I wince as the pain in my ribs and…down there come back in full force. “I don’t feel good.”

“It’s okay,” Jax says, dragging the blanket up and placing it around me. “Go to sleep.”

I close my eyes, feeling drained. Before I drift off, I look down at Jax, at the steady presence of my best friend.

At the one person that’s always in my corner.

In another reality, where I wasn’t so fucked up and my life wasn’t shit, we could…

be together, I could tell him how I feel about him and hope its reciprocated.

But I have nothing to offer him but my songs, my melodies, my words. He can’t have my heart because it’s a black and withered lump in my chest, not something fit to offer someone pure like him.

I can give him what I have. It’s not much, but it’s the only honest thing in my life.

My eyes heavy from exhaustion, I say, “I wanna leave, Jax. I can’t…

it’s too much. It all hurts so much.” I stop short of telling him of what Perry does to me and that my mom knows about the abuse.

I can’t sound weak in front of Jax. I can’t.

It would kill me. He probably already thinks I am since I don’t fight Perry when he puts his hands on me, but I can’t have it confirmed.

I am weak though. My body refuses to do anything but freeze when Perry’s around. He’s able to do whatever he wants to me because I’m so fucking pitiful.

“I’m sorry, Wes. Did he hit you again?” I nod, and he curses. “Please, let me tell someone. My dad. He can help. He’s a lawyer.”

I shake my head quickly. “No. No one. Promise me.”

His impossibly sad eyes grow even sadder as he looks down at me. “Wesley…”

“Promise, Jaxon.”

He sighs like it hurts and nods. “Okay. I promise.”

A long breath leaves my lips. “You can sleep here,” I say, sliding over so he has room.

He shakes his head and turns away, hiding his eyes from me. “Nah. I’m good here. Go to sleep, Wes. I’ll watch over you.”

I faintly feel his fingers in my hair as I drift off into my first drug-induced sleep.