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I step forward at the same time Brandon does.
He captures my mouth with a wild kiss, hands trailing all over my body. I tug on his shirt and pull him along with me as we vigorously make out.
Reaching my room, I lead him to the bed.
“Brandon,” I moan at his mouth. “I want you...”
He clutches my wrists just as I’m about to haul his shirt off.
A horny whimper escapes me. I ask, “What’s wrong?”
Moistening his lips, he backs up and rakes his hand through his hair.
I lower on the bed and reach for him. “Talk to me.”
Brandon lingers for a beat before coming to sit beside me. “Friday night, when I mentioned not playing sports because I felt uncomfortable about something…”
I nod for him to keep going.
“It’s because I don’t want anyone to see my body—to see this.” After a deep breath, he slowly pulls his shirt over his head.
Shaky gasps gust from my lips when I see the pink scars on his arms. “Oh…Bran…” No wonder he wears long sleeve t-shirts even out of uniform in the warm weather.
“It’s much worse here.” He turns so I can fully view his back.
My eyes go wide in shock.
Pain and anger occupy my body.
I want to do extreme damage to the person that hurt him.
Hands trembling, I lift them to his back. Brandon flinches from my touch but relaxes his muscles as I gently trace the scars, multiple lines of healed lashes that had to be excruciating upon infliction.
“Who...who did this to you?” I can barely get the words out.
He twists to me but looks down at the carpet as he speaks. “My mom hired a nanny when Brit and I were twelve. Dad’s mother used to babysit while our parents worked, but she fell ill and passed.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
Brandon shakes his head. “She wasn’t very kind. But at least, she never physically hurt us.” He pauses a moment, drawing for strength. “Our nanny brought her daughter over whenever she babysat. Annalise…” He breaks a moment like saying her name is painful. “She was three years older. Friendly. But after a while, I noticed something off about her, in the way she’d look at me. Touch my hair. My face.”
My brain has an idea of where he’s going, and I’m fighting to hold my shit together and provide emotional support.
“I was often alone with Annalise and her mom during the week because Brit had ballet, and our parents didn’t leave work until evening.” He takes a deep swallow before going on. “The day after my thirteenth birthday, Dad’s driver picked me up at school. He told me Mom had fired the nanny but never mentioned why. Anyway, he dropped me off at the house and said my mom would be home soon.”
Brandon hangs his head as his body begins to quiver.
I rub the back of his neck and squeeze his hand in my lap. I don’t speak because I don’t want to interrupt this moment where he’s sharing a painful time in his life.
When he’s able to, Brandon continues. “I found Annalise in my room, sitting on my bed. It was the first time we were alone together. She told me her mom was sending her away, said it was my parents’ fault.” His shoulders droop. “I remember feeling so uncomfortable with her.
“When I asked her to leave, she started crying. Told me she loved me. That I was special to her and would be forever, then she...” He presses his eyes shut and lets out chilling breaths. “She undid her blouse, grabbed me. Pushed me on the bed, and she raped me.” Tears spill down his face and mine. I wipe his away, glad he doesn’t wince from my touch.
“Brandon...”
“I was thirteen. She was sixteen. I didn’t—I wasn’t strong enough to push her off. I just...” He huffs. “I felt so embarrassed. When she stopped, she wanted me to say I loved her. But I didn’t. That only pissed her off. She slapped me so hard it left me stunned. Next thing, she picked up a fucking stick she brought with her.”
He tilts his chin up, teary eyes staring into space as he recaps the terrible memory. “The first lash ripped a scream from my gut. I tried to fight, but she was so damn strong.” His voice cracks. After a hard swallow, he keeps going. “I managed to get off the bed, and that’s when she hit me at the back of my head, knocking the wind out of me. She ripped off my shirt, dragged me into the bathroom…” A painful rumble leaves his body. He pushes on. “She struck me over and over, ignoring every agonizing cry. She said she was punishing me for not loving her.”
