Old Wounds: Little Battles Part 8

"Are we twelve again or what?"

He smiled at me. "It'll be fun. Like the first time we did it."

I smiled, remembering how s.p.a.ced I'd been afterward. There was nothing like killing brain cells by huffing gas out of a can of spray whipped cream.

"Fine, whippits it is then."

It was only after nearly asphyxiating my brain that I realized I'd stayed at Jason's house too long. As I exited the bathroom, trying to keep my overly s.e.x-deprived brain from thinking about doing it on that bathroom vanity, I heard Jason's dad yelling at him.

Then I heard him yell back, "It's not my f.u.c.king fault you're the way you are! She didn't touch anything out here, I swear."

"Don't f.u.c.king yell at me, Jason."

"Don't f.u.c.king yell at me."

"Clean it anyway. How do we know she didn't touch anything? Maybe she put things out of order when she was in the..."

I snuck a peek around the corner and watched as Jason glared at his father who was fidgeting in a recliner that was covered with fitted plastic. Jace ran his hands through his hair and then stood up straight. "I was with her the whole time."

Jerry, whose hair was darker than Jason's sandy blond and also much smaller than his son, started moving his fingers back and forth, rhythmically. His lips were moving, but I could barely hear anything. What was he doing? I focused on his mouth and realized he was counting. After a long time, he finally looked back up at Jason.

"Please just clean anyway? Please? With the brown towels?"

Jace sighed. "Fine. Can I go now? She's waiting for me..."

"In your room?"

"No, in your room," he answered, his voice annoyed and edgy.

Jerry looked frightened, like the thought of me in his bedroom sparked actual panic.

"Of course not in your room. She's in mine, unless she got tired of waiting for me," he said pointedly. "Don't flip. Why would she be in your room?"

"Make sure you clean your room when she goes."

"No."

"What?" his father asked, his voice taking on that panicked nature again.

"I like her germs in my room, Dad. It's my room. Besides, it's Sophie. Tom's daughter. He was over just-"

"It's not the same and we cleaned after he left too. Just clean, Jason. Promise me you'll clean."

"Fine," he relented with a sigh. "Did you take your meds today?"

Jerry fidgeted, but nodded. "I just need you to clean, that's all. Sorry I yelled."

Jason shrugged. "What do you want for dinner?"

He was like his father's f.u.c.king parent or something. I'd known that his dad had some mental issues, but it never occurred to me that Jason would have to take care of him so much.

I went back to Jason's room and grabbed my coat, wanting to leave. When I turned back around, he was leaning in the doorway.

"You taking off?"

I nodded. "I have to get dinner and all that."

"Me too."

I started shrugging on my coat, but before I could, Jason took it away and lifted me, pressing me into the wall. His mouth on my neck was heavy and wet, and it felt so good. The way his arms were behind me, his hands in my hair, set me alight with heat. My legs automatically wrapped around his waist and his hips thrust upward, driving his very obvious excitement against me.

I thought about Elliott and I felt awful because I'd kissed him on Wednesday and now I had Jason pressing against me in all the right places. I'd been trying not to do this s.h.i.t. Jace breathed out against my ear and I instantly froze. The rush of air brought memories.

Shhhh!

I pushed against him, then opened my eyes and straightened my legs. He let me down, but only after trying to hold me closer to him for a split-second.

"What the f.u.c.k?" His breath was coming out in spurts.

"I have to go, Jace."

He said something, but I didn't listen. My mind was racing with thoughts of things I didn't want to think about.

"But, Sophie..."

"No, I have to go. The bus will be along any minute."

"I can take you home."

I shook my head and licked my lips. "You have to make Jerry dinner."

Sighing, he gave me a half-nod. "Fine, but I'll see you tomorrow morning, right?"

"Actually, I'm getting another ride."

"Who the h.e.l.l from?"

It wasn't hard to hear the jealousy in his voice. I worked really hard not to get p.i.s.sed at him.

"Elliott."

"Why?"

There was no reason why Elliott was going to pick me up. He just was, so I shrugged.

"So no wake and bake then?" I shook my head and he followed suit. "That's screwed up, Sophie. We always--"

I cut him off. "We can burn before cla.s.s."

He eyed me carefully. "Why don't you just ride with me and we'll clam bake like usual?"

As appealing as I always found getting fried first thing in the morning inside of an enclosed vehicle, I'd already told Elliott he could pick me up. "Not tomorrow, Jace."

"Whatever." He went to sit down on his bed and then nodded toward the door. "You're going to miss your f.u.c.king bus."

One might think Chris would've taken a weekend off from being cruel, but as he followed me through his family's store, letting loose with a steady stream of taunts, I realized that he was a full-time jerk.

I had to keep reminding myself that I was only there to pick up a few things for Sophie. I'd noticed that she didn't have a hat or gloves and if we were going to go out in the newly-fallen snow, she would need them.

"Aiden didn't say, of course, but I bet she's a screamer. Or at least, she will be with me."

I grit my teeth and wondered if he really thought that anyone believed his boasts of prowess.

"Are those for Sophia or your brain-dead, s.p.a.ce-cadet sister, D-D-Dalton?" It bugged me that he called her Sophia when she so clearly wanted to be called Sophie. I had to work really hard to have compa.s.sion for Anderson. I wondered what had happened to him that was so bad he felt he felt the need to be so horrible to people.

He needed therapy more than most of the kids who saw Robin or the other guy.

"Now there's a thought, D-D-Dalton." He drew in a deep breath and smiled. "Your mental sister has a tight body. I think Sophie'd look so hot with her face between your sister's thighs while I took her from behind."

I closed my eyes for just a moment while I fought against the urge to defend them. I really wanted to, but I knew anything I said would only make him laugh, and the more he talked, the weaker I got.

If only Trent was here.

Then, as if Chris could read my mind, he said, "Run and tell her idiot boyfriend. We all know that the next time the sheriff gets a call about his uncontrolled anger, he'll be locked away." He sighed exaggeratedly. "I wonder if he'd mind me f.u.c.king your sister while he's taking it in the a.s.s in prison."

My breath caught and I felt sick. I heard him laugh again. I could only focus again when his mother came into sight.

"Good morning, Elliott. Ready to ring those up?"

I swallowed hard and looked at Chris, watching as his posture changed now that his mother was around.

"Y-yes, MM-MMMMrs. A-A-Anderson."

I handed over my money and took the hat and gloves in exchange.

"Tell your father h.e.l.lo for me, will you?" I nodded and left as quickly as I could.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up Sophie's favorite juice. I knew she didn't want me to be her boyfriend, but there was nothing stopping me from taking care of her.

She was still sleeping when I got to her house, and as Mr. Young tried to wake her up, I hoped that I hadn't gotten the time wrong.

However when she came downstairs, saving me from being alone with her father, I couldn't help but be relieved. She was completely beautiful in threadbare clothes that were too big for her and her hair all over the place. I was rewarded with a smile when she saw the Pom juice, but thought for a moment that she hated the gloves and hat before she seemed to compose herself and thank me.

I wasn't trying to overstep any boundaries, I just wanted to make sure she didn't get sick on her first outing in the Mid-Atlantic winter.

We played in the snow. I could count the number of times I had "just played" in my entire life on one hand. When I threw that first s...o...b..ll at her, I knew that I was taking a risk and just for a moment, she looked like she might've been upset. Then she lobbed a poorly made s...o...b..ll back at me and all my fears melted away.

She would have to work on that aim before getting into a battle with David though. I'd only been in two s...o...b..ll fights with him, but he was incredibly accurate.

As she cooked chili, I'd asked her a question and true to form, she'd asked me one right back. I'd been so happy she was cooking. Funny how she was making that particular dish when she told me about her mother using peppers to burn her.

I hadn't known that the tongue could scar, and I wondered if it still hurt.

It was during the discussion of my mother that the unparalleled sadness settled down on me. I was happy that I wasn't panicking in front of her, but I couldn't stop the quicksand of despair as it swallowed me whole, so much that I hardly even tasted Sophie's food when it was time to eat.

I was barely able to say a proper goodbye to her and her father before driving home in what could only be described as a daze.

David, Jane, and Stephen were all eating dinner when I returned. I avoided speaking by answering all their questions with a shrug, a nod, or a shake of my head.

Instead of just having sad thoughts running through my mind, I kept reciting various Bible pa.s.sages. All it did was manage to keep me on that amazingly thin edge of being normal, or what pa.s.sed as normal for me, and complete panic.

Sleep was difficult and I found myself unable to work on my speech or pick up an instrument. My body was as heavy as my mind and I was bound to the bed, my arms wrapped around my legs.

I didn't speak at all on Sunday. I wouldn't have come out of my room either if I hadn't wanted coffee so badly.

"Elliott, please," Stephen said on Monday morning as he looked deeply into my eyes. I looked away, the intensity of his gaze too much for me to handle. "You can't keep shutting down like this, you know."

I could and I would. I didn't have to talk. There was no stipulation in the adoption papers stating that I had to. I had nothing to say and it made me angry that everyone wanted to turn it into some major thing.

It wasn't like I was silent because they did something wrong. I wasn't punishing them. I just didn't want to talk. Not only did I not get much sleep, but my brain was still a little warped from last night's painful thoughts.

It wasn't so much that I was thinking about my mother, because I did that a lot. It was more that I was thinking about why she did what she did.

I knew Sophie didn't understand and that she thought I should've been angry at my mother, but I didn't blame her. Not for her addictions and not for how she chose to escape. I would have thought Sophie would understand that. She got high every day as her means of escaping the pain she didn't want to feel.

My mother just took it a step further when the addiction became a source of pain as well.

She almost took me with her.

There are many days I wished she had. Being so young, it would've been difficult to truly understand what that gun pointed at me really meant.

But I knew now.

She was going to save me.

And then she didn't.

Instead, she turned the gun around. I remembered how her hand shook. Her face was pale and she had tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

Addiction had clouded her eyes for so many years. So many, in fact, that I wasn't sure I had ever seen her eyes clear until that day. She'd taken a deep breath and I had risen up onto my knees, my lips pressed together. I remembered wanting to ask her if she would just stay with me for a little while longer after she'd told me she had to go.

I hadn't realized then what she meant.

Then there was blood and brains on my door, on my walls, on my carpet, on my things, and it clued me in to the fact that she wasn't going out to the store or to her dealer.

The last thing she said right before, "I love you, Ellie-bear," was that there was a half of her tuna salad sandwich left in the refrigerator for me.

But I couldn't understand it. And I couldn't get out of my room.