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“Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. It’s my way of thanking you for the other night. You saved my ass.”
“My brother did.”
I wipe the side of his face. “Before…when Zack first showed up at the table.”
“I knew something was wrong when he showed up. You tensed up, and the way he was looking at you, I knew it wasn’t good.” He pauses like he’s trying to find the right words. “Did he hurt you? Physically. Did he…?” My hand pauses in midair. He looks at me, waiting.
I grab another cleansing pad so I can apply the cream to his chin. The silence is thick between us. I don’t know how to answer without lying, but at the same not tell him the truth. He would tell Valen. Valen would tell Adam, and my parents would find out. I’ll be humiliated. My parents would make a big deal and not let me out of the house or, worse, send me to a center for treatment. All of these would be useless because they don’t make a wrong a right. It doesn’t stop them from doing it again to me or someone else. The worst part is the humiliation. The pity.
They would make me tell them things about that night I’m not sure of. Things I hardly remember myself but know they happened.
Even if they confronted them, they would say I was stalking Zack and made it up. They would say I was mad that he broke up with me or spin it in a way where it was my fault. That I’m crazy and unstable. It’s all of them against me.
I rub the cream with the cotton pad gently on his chin.
Our eyes meet. His friendly. Mine full of fear.
He sees the truth dancing in the depth of my eyes but doesn’t say anything. There is so much silence can say that words don’t. Sometimes the truth doesn’t need to be said to know that something bad happened. You can feel it. It snakes up your skin and whispers in your ear.
“Does my brother know?”
“Does he know what? I ask dumbly, but I do know. He wants to know if his brother knows that I was raped by Zack and his friends. “Valen knows them. Probably better than he should. He goes to their parties. I’ve seen him there.” I smile weakly. “Before, when I used to go to those things. The first time I went, Valen was there.”
He lowers his head and stares at the ground like he’s lost in thought. “You don’t…go. Anymore?”
“I don’t drink or go to parties anymore,” I say quietly. “I don’t date either.”
He nods, and I think he gets it. I think he understands why I live in a trailer. Why I’m skittish. Why I don’t accept his offer even though it’s a good one. Because I can’t trust anyone.
I start on his forehead and concentrate on his trouble spots before I have to clean up and then begin the next step.
The sound of a metal chain has me looking up. Valen leans on the wall, playing with his wallet chain with his fingers. His eyes shift between me and his brother. His jaw set. His blond hair flat and tousled. His shirt rides up, revealing the band of his Alexander McQueen boxers under his black ripped jeans and black combat boots. Valen is goth personified with his style while outside of work. Azriel is hot emo boy.
Similar but different.
“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in,” I say with a nervous smile.
His expression is blank. I hope I didn’t overstep by stopping by without letting him know.
Azriel doesn’t glance in his direction or greet him. I find it odd but don’t point it out. I have no idea how they interact with each other when I’m not around.
When I saw her car in the driveway, my heart was pounding in my chest. Did she change her mind? Is she staying? When I entered quietly and saw her with my younger brother, my heart sank. The way she was taking care of him. It didn’t bother her that he has acne and is full of pimples. I was also surprised he let her touch his face. He doesn’t let anyone talk to him about it. I’ve tried, but he always changes the subject or goes to his room to play video games. I felt bad. I wanted to take him to a doctor, but he always brushed it aside and said he was fine when I knew he wasn’t.
I tried not to let my jealousy get me into a chokehold. It’s a foreign emotion. One that I’m not used to. One that I have to get ahold of. He’s my brother, but she’s the girl I want.
The one with the hair I itch to touch. The skin I wish to lick and the pussy I want to fuck. And she is currently taking care of my brother while he looks at her like she’s the girl of his dreams.
There is a knot in my throat when she slides off the stool to wash her hands.
My brother won’t look at me, and I know something is wrong.
He’s mad.
He does this when I’ve upset him, and that is the last thing I want.
“Hey, man. You invited her?”
