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“No, Ross. You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” I take the bags from her reluctant hold. “This is nothing.”
She shoots me a wide-eyed look as we start on the road toward Little River. “What do you mean, worse? Do you often get knifed?”
“No. Not what I meant.” My head hurts, and strangely my arms tremble, though the bags aren’t all that heavy. “Let’s just go.”
My childhood, growing up with dear old dad isn’t something I’ve ever talked about. But as she walks beside me, the scars on my back itch. They never bothered me. I never bothered to hide them from other girls or anyone. But with this girl, everything’s different. I wonder what she’d think of them. If she’d be disgusted. Find them goddamn ugly.
They are goddamn ugly, no question about that, I just never cared about that before. About anyone’s opinion. Preference. Never cared about the way they look at me, never wanted to be... someone better.
“Ross? You okay?”
I realize I’ve stopped, the bags about to drop from my hold, the world edged with black, silver stars spinning. “Yeah.”
“You don’t look okay. Maybe I should walk you ho
me.”
“Home. Right.” I look up, scanning the trees ahead as if I can see it. “Dad’s house. Down by the river.”
“That’s where you’re heading, right?”
I dunno. I was just following the road when she caught up with me, but I nod, too tired to explain. Not sure I should. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” She tugs the bags free of my grip, “Well, I’m late, and this is me.” She jerks her chin at the house by the road I hadn’t noticed we’d reached. “You could, um, call me. If you need anything.”
Call her.
She never gave me her number, and why should she? But I don’t say anything. There’s a smell of food cooking from the house, and it hits my senses suddenly, prompting my empty stomach to growl. The sound is way too fucking loud.
It startles her.
She opens her mouth to say something, and last thing I need is that. Whatever it is. Pity? Concern? Suspicions that I’m trying to get her to do more for me?
So I make myself haul ass. I shove my hands into my jeans pockets and step back. “Good night, Luna.”
She hesitates, those expressive eyes darting between me and her home, so I turn and stagger away, my back to her, to absolve her of any responsibility, any doubt.
I make it to the side of the road, get under the cover of the tree shadows and watch her go, her steps growing lighter as she approaches the house. I see the door open, and someone takes the bags from her. I catch a glimpse of smiling faces. I feel like an intruder in a distant world, an alien on a different planet.
Then again, what’s new? I don’t understand this world. The families. The smiles. The smell of cooked, warm food and the parents waiting at the door, the open arms and laughter echoing from inside. The lack of screaming and yelling, the quiet around other houses, the siblings playing together, having each other’s back, it’s just... incomprehensible. Inexplicable. What Octavia and Merc want me to understand, to accept, what Luna has with her family, it’s all beyond me.
And right now, with the world spinning out of orbit and darkening at the edges, reaching my dad’s house is the only thing I can aspire to do.
***
Somehow, I make it to the house, climb the steps to the porch and collapse in the rocking chair that hasn’t fallen apart yet, though it’s headed there, just like me. Rotten, crumbling, returning to the elements.
I have the presence of mind to lift my T-shirt, check that I’m not fucking bleeding to death, but the gauze Luna taped there seems to hold just fine, and the streaks of blood below are brown and mostly dry.
I’m just... so fucking tired. Feels like I’ve been running for years, no end in sight, no destination. Running from something, trying to outpace myself, to escape my own dark shadow.
The river splashes softly and trickles, the trees rustle, and the darkness seeps into my vision, blotting out the landscape. I’m falling into sleep before I can fight it, sucked under, into a room I know well, dimly lit and full of ghosts.
“Take off your shirt, boy,” my dad’s heavy voice says, and I can’t see him, but my heart is trying to climb out of my fucking throat. “Turn around. Didn’t I tell you that you’ll taste the belt if you do whatever the hell you want?”
“Please, Dad!” The words tremble on my tongue, shameful tears gathering in my eyes, but I know better than to let them fall. “Don’t.”
