AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His eyes burn into mine before he finally answers, “No, it’s not.” He inhales. “Sorry, Wildflower. I didn’t mean to fuck our day up.”
“Nothing could ruin today.” I smile, assuring him before I lay my cheek against the pillow again. “Night, Brody. Sweet dreams.”
“Night,” he says softly, and eventually, I feel the bed shift as he lies back down.
I guess I should have known that physical attraction would be inevitable. But I need to fight it. This friendship is special. And I’m not going to throw it all away for sex.
Even if the sex would probably be out-of-this-world good and I’d probably…finally…know what an orgasm felt like.
Brody
“You dumb motherfucker!” my father roars, grabbing me by my long hair and yanking me upward. “Your report card came in the mail, and now, because you’re so stupid, I have to go into the school for a meeting!” He slams me down on the ground before pulling his leg back and then sending it into my rib cage.
Everything hurts, but eventually, like always, it goes numb.
Landing a few more blows on me, he leans down and grips my shirt. “This world would be better off if you were dead, you useless fucking kid. Your bitch mama didn’t want you, and now, I’m stuck with you. I ought to just do the planet a favor and put a bullet between your eyes. But I don’t feel like going to jail.”
“S-sorry, Dad,” I stutter. “I’ll work—I’ll work harder in school.” Every word I force from my lips rips through my abdomen, making me wince.
“Yeah, I bet you will. Stupid fucking kid.” He reeks of beer and cigarettes. His cold black eyes stare down at me with nothing but hatred.
Dropping me into a pile on the ground at his feet, he gives me one more shove with his foot before he walks away.
The world isn’t the only thing that would be better off if I were dead.
I’d be better off too.
I wish I could go to my grandmother’s, but she works so much that I only get to go sometimes. She hates what Dad does to me. But he’s her son. And she’s scared of him too. Besides, last time she tried to talk to him about it…it didn’t end well. For either of us.
Wrapping my arms around my knees, I rock, trying to stop myself from crying. Because crying is for babies and that’ll only make Dad hate me more. But as I hear footsteps coming back toward me, I know he’s returning for another round. And I’ll just miss more school because how am I supposed to go to class when my face and body look like hell?
A shoving sensation pulls me from my nightmare, but it takes me a few seconds to actually open my eyes. And when I do, I look around. Forgetting where the fuck I am.
“Brody,” Bria whispers, touching my forehead with her palm, reminding me she’s next to me. “You were…muttering in your sleep.” She flicks the light on, and her face looks pale. And I know by muttering, she means crying. “You’re burning up.” Her eyes stare at me with sadness. “Are you okay?”
My heart is racing, and my skin is on fire. But still, I try to force a grin, though I’m sure it doesn’t look like one.
“Oh, yeah, I’m good. Just dreaming about that damn ride you made me go on with the creepy dolls.”
Her hand moves to my cheek. “You were not. But that’s okay.” Wrapping her arms around my body. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I answer, looking at the ceiling.
“Okay. Then, we don’t have to.” She nestles her body against me. “You’re safe now. Go to sleep. But if you need me, I’m right here.”
I’ve had this dream—among countless others—too many times to count. I wish they were only nightmares, but the truth is, they are as real as they come. Except they are from the past and not the present. Still, that angry fuck in them haunts me, even years later.
I run my hand over my buzzed head, the feeling of my father pulling me by my hair fresh in my brain from my nightmare.
When I was a kid, I rarely got haircuts. My grandmother would cut it for me as often as she could, but she was busy. And her haircuts consisted of big scissors and a bowl. I was that boy in class. The one with dirty, shaggy hair and secondhand clothes. So, the second I got old enough to do it, I shaved my hair into a buzz cut. And to this day, I can’t stand for it to be any longer than it is right now.
I know Bria isn’t sleeping. I know she’s waiting to see if I need her before she dozes off. The truth is, she’s saving me just by being in my arms right now. And with her close to me, I inhale her sweet vanilla scent…and my heartbeat slows, and breathing becomes easier. I feel myself falling back to sleep because, for some crazy reason, I feel safer now.
I’ve never asked for an angel. Because an angel couldn’t handle me.
Bria Collins might not be anyone’s angel, but she might just be my savior.
12
