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  “Please believe me, I don’t want to leave you. I love you more than anything, but I have no choice. My dad’s company has transferred him to Australia. He is moving and I have to go with him,” I explained dejectedly.

  Tears welled up as I turned to gage her reaction to the cruel truth, but she had already retreated behind her wall. Those beautiful green eyes were glassed over and her expression was vacant. It destroyed me to watch the mask slip over her beautiful face before she replied.

  “Of course you have to leave Logan. Everyone leaves,” she murmured blankly.

  Those were the last words she spoke to me before she went catatonic. We both stood silently gazing at the waves for almost an hour.

  “Hey, we need to talk about this. I’m sorry. I love you. Please talk to me,” I whispered, breaking the silence.

  No response, she just continued staring straight ahead. After a few more minutes, I gathered up our gear and looked towards her. I tried to take her arm to steer her toward the car, but she pulled it out of my grasp and proceeded to follow me woodenly to the car. There was no chance to talk to her on the way home either. She didn’t cry or even acknowledge my existence. Her gaze was firmly fixed on the hood of my car. I expected anger or tears, but her complete silence was unnerving. Bethany Hope Richards retreated to the place where she felt safest and took my heart and soul with her. When we pulled up to her house, I attempted to drag her into my arms but she became rigid.

  “Baby, please don’t do this. I love you so much. If you don’t want to talk to me right now, please let me hold you. I’ll even settle for you screaming or punching me but please,” my voice cracked before I could continue, “just not this. Not this,” I pleaded brokenly.

  Bethany didn’t even hesitate as she reached for the door handle and slowly made her way into the house. I needed to explain. I wanted to promise I would be back, but I couldn’t do that to her. I refused to make another promise that I was not certain I could keep. The tears I’d held in finally fell as I sat there helplessly and watched her walk away.

  The first time I laid eyes on Bethany was the first day of my junior year. I had just moved to Fort Grange and was a little nervous about starting a new school. It wasn’t like a new town was a novelty for me. We moved every year or so. My nomadic father didn’t feel content to stay in one place for very long, so I learned to make friends easily. I was searching for a friendly face that morning when I spotted a tiny girl, not more than five feet tall, moving down the hall towards me.

  Her curly hair was a riot of colors ranging from mahogany to a golden brown. It reached past her shoulders with a few shorter curls framing her heart shaped face. She wasn’t stick thin like a lot of girls, but she wasn’t overweight either. Her faded blue jeans and plain white t-shirt only emphasized the fact that she was seriously hot. She didn’t even have to try. My attention was all hers. Bethany was staring straight ahead and studiously avoiding eye contact. Suddenly, a classroom door opened directly in front of her, and she had to swerve to miss it. Fortunately, she ended up plowing straight into me. I grabbed both of her shoulders to steady her. Startled eyes the color of new leaves met mine, and I caught a glimpse of her embarrassed smile. She tucked her hair behind her ear, muttered an “Excuse me” and dashed down the hallway.

  It required some serious investigating, but eventually I discovered her name was Bethany and she was a freshman. Beyond that, no one could really tell me much about her. In a small Texas town I considered it unusual that no one actually appeared to know Bethany. The entire school consisted of less than five hundred students. The tiny town square only boasted a diner, a feed store, a lumberyard, and a few antique stores. It was the type of place where everyone knew everyone and many people had lived there their whole lives.

  A few of the guys declared Bethany was a snob and advised me not to waste my time. She always walked alone in the halls and she spent her lunch break in the library. After a few days of watching her, I noticed that she was always alone. There were plenty of perfectly nice, good looking girls at Fort Grange High School but something about Bethany intrigued me. I resolved to become more studious and began spending my lunchtime in the library too.

  Bethany did an admirable job of pretending I was a bookshelf when I initially appeared in the musty library. I smiled at her every day and she stared straight through me. Originally, I assumed she was not interested in me but one afternoon, I caught her peeking at me. It was enough encouragement to keep me returning to the library during lunch. Starving was a small price to pay to be near her for thirty minutes every day.

  I enjoyed watching her work. While she was reading or doing homework, her shield would slip just a little. She would absentmindedly twirl her curly hair while she read or nibble on her bottom lip as she was trying to solve a particularly difficult math problem. Occasionally, I even heard her mutter to herself when her work became especially frustrating. She was enchanting, and I rapidly became infatuated with her.

  After several weeks of playing peek-a-boo, I arrived at the library one Monday during lunch and was surprised to discover Bethany wasn’t at her usual table. I was disappointed because I had been looking forward to seeing her all weekend. Sighing, I flung my backpack on the table. It would take too long to go through the lunch line now anyway so I decided to get some homework done. If I couldn’t gawk at her today at least I could sit at her usual table. A few minutes passed and I heard the heavy library door open with a swish. My heart soared at the sight of her, but I was completely embarrassed for her to find me in her spot. She waltzed right past me and proceeded to sit in the back of the library. After a few minutes, I grew brave enough to sneak a look back at her over my shoulder.

  Instead of diving into her backpack so she could appear busy, Bethany continued to stare at the same spot on the laminate wood table in front of her. She looked so dejected and forlorn that I was on my feet striding toward her before I realized what I was doing. As I got closer, she turned her head toward me and I froze. My jaw tensed when I spotted an ugly red handprint on the side of her face. White hot rage seized me. It was agonizingly obvious someone had slapped her. All I could think about was getting my hands on whoever had hurt her.

  Huge green eyes met mine and my pulse went up another notch. Her eyes began darting around the room searching for an escape. She appeared petrified. It took me a minute to realize what she was afraid of--me. I struggled to contain my anger and tried to school my features into a smile. I could barely manage a grimace. It pained me to see the panic in her eyes as I cautiously approached her.

  “Hey Bethany, I’m Logan Drayton,” I introduced myself.

  Apparently she decided it was safest to acknowledge my existence.

  “Yeah, I bumped into you in the hall, right?” She answered reluctantly.

  This time my smile for her was genuine.

  “That’s me. Mind if I sit down?” I gestured to the empty chair beside her.

  “I don’t own the chair,” she shrugged.

  Up close, I noticed the entire left side of her face was slightly swollen and a fresh scab on her bottom lip. She hadn’t just been slapped; she had been beaten.

  “Are you okay? I can walk you to the nurse and get some ice on that bruise,” I offered. I jumped when she quickly shouted, “No!” before the question fully left my lips.

  Mrs. Calloway, the ancient librarian, looked up sharply from her desk. She continued to glare at us until she decided we were sufficiently cowed. When the elderly woman finally looked down at her computer, I tried again.

  “Bethany, did you get in a fight?”

  Her response was to duck her head and stare at the table again. I hadn’t heard any gossip around school about her having issues with anyone. I had never seen her with anyone at school, let alone actually speaking to someone. Who could have done this? I was about to give up hope when I heard her soft voice answer me.

  “I walked into a door,” she lied.

  Bethany stood up from the table and star
ted to walk away -- just like that. She flinched when I grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. She looked painfully down at my hand as if she had been scorched. I jerked my hand back immediately. She was staring at the table again, struggling to regain her cool façade. I raked my fingers through my hair as my mind raced to decide the best way to approach her. There was no way to say it tactfully, so I just plunged ahead.

  “A door doesn’t leave a handprint on your cheek,” I pointed out gruffly.

  She leaned slightly away from me as I lightly traced the bruise on her face.

  Bethany looked like a goldfish. She opened and closed her mouth a few times without speaking, obviously flabbergasted. She hadn’t expected me to call her on her weak excuse. She huffed and lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “Thanks but I am fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

  Her face did not look fine. It had to be painful to even talk, yet she didn’t even wince. Our conversation was over as far as she was concerned judging by the way she clamped her mouth shut. I received the only answer I was going to get from her. Her eyes pleaded with me to let it go. The bell for fifth period rang, and she rushed from the room.

  Bethany managed to avoid me for the remainder of the day. My teachers could have been speaking Chinese for all I knew because I was so preoccupied with her. I just couldn’t get the picture of her battered face out of my head. The final bell rang and I headed toward the student parking lot. Just as I was opening the door to my car, I spotted Bethany gliding across the weed riddled practice field. As usual, she was walking alone. I climbed in the car and pulled around to the far side of the field and waited for her. I knew the second she spotted me. Her brisk walk slowed significantly and she changed her direction slightly so she could walk well in front of my car and avoid me altogether. I jumped out of the car and called to her.

  “Bethany! Can I give you a ride home?”

  She pretended not to hear me and started picking up her pace once again. I wasn’t giving up this time. I intercepted her at the curb. To get away from me she was going to have to walk around me.

  “Look, please let me give you a ride home. It doesn’t feel right to let an injured girl walk home in this heat. My dad would be ashamed.”

  It was the best excuse I could come up with on short notice. She finally stopped and gave me a little smirk.

  “I’m an excellent driver and I swear not to ask you any more questions about your fight with the door,” I promised wryly.

  This time I got a small smile. Her busted lip cracked a little, but I was grateful to see a smile on her face. If she looked this stunning all bruised up, I couldn’t wait to see her smile when she was healed up.

  “That sounds fair enough,” she conceded, “Nice car by the way.”

  I looked back at the black mustang my dad bought for me on my sixteenth birthday.

  “Thanks.”

  Bethany was unfailingly polite as she gave me directions to her house but had little else to say. The closer we got to her house, the quieter her voice became.

  “Thanks for the ride. It’s the next house on your left,” she directed, barely above a whisper.

  As I eased the car to a stop, a large man came out of the white clapboard house. I recognized the expression on Bethany’s face instantly. It was the same cornered animal look she had given me in the library earlier. Her eyes were glued to the man on the front porch. He was a tall, lanky, middle aged man with thinning brown hair whose expression appeared as if he smelled something particularly offensive. He was obviously not happy as he slammed the front door shut behind him.

  “What do you think you are doing in that car you little whore?” he yelled from across the yard.

  Bethany froze in her seat as he approached the car. Then, the expression on her face instantly became blank. She unlocked the car door and started to walk across the yard completely unfazed as he spewed curse words at her. She said something softly under her breath and gave him a wide berth as she made her way towards the front door. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I pulled away from her house. Now, I knew who was hurting Bethany.

  Chapter Three

  BETHANY

  After Logan dropped me off, Jack didn’t bother waiting until I got inside to start spewing cruel, hateful words. When I made it safely to my room without Jack adding anymore color to my battered face, I sat on my bed and took several deep breaths to get my rapidly beating heart under control. The usual comforting numbness I felt in stressful situations failed me. Just the thought of Logan witnessing the humiliating scene with Jack almost sent me into panic attack mode.

  A tiny part of my brain was terrified that I even cared what Logan thought of me. I never cared what the kids at school thought, why should I be embarrassed when it came to Logan? I didn’t allow myself to dwell on that for too long. I had more immediate things to stress about. I was just thankful I made it into the house before Jack started using his fists to voice his displeasure.

  If Jack wasn’t drunk the worst I would get from him was the occasional backhand, but the violence escalated the drunker he got. When Jack was home, I stayed in my room as much as possible. When I had to venture out of my room to do my chores, use the bathroom, or eat, Jack would watch me like a hawk. His eyes scrutinized every move I made, seeking the slightest misstep or infraction, so he could swoop in and ‘discipline’ me.

  I flinched suddenly when the front door slammed so hard it knocked a couple of pictures off my wall.

  “Don’t think that this is over little girl!!!” Jack bellowed from outside my door. “I want you to sit and think awhile about how I am going to punish you for getting a ride home from school without permission!”

  Judging by the tone in his voice, He was downright giddy just thinking about it. Ice trickled down my spine--I shuttered to think of what this man could to do me when he really put his mind to it. I heard the refrigerator door open and the rattle of glass bottles clinking together. Jack was getting another beer no doubt. By now I was sure that he had his butt parked on the couch watching TV. I tried not to think about what awaited me once Jack drank enough liquid courage to carry out his threats. I learned the hard way that Jack usually meant what he said. There was no doubt about that.

  Eventually, I decided to try and distract myself by reading the assignment for government that was due the next day. I tugged my backpack off of the floor and pulled my one ton government book out. Obviously, I had the unabridged version. I flipped to the chapter we were studying and tried to read. It was useless, I couldn’t concentrate and found myself reading the same paragraph over and over. Honestly, it was government so it wasn’t unusual for me to struggle to pay attention long enough to actually absorb what I was reading. Waiting for the ax to fall made it almost impossible. I found myself staring at the dust motes as they made their way across my window. Anything was preferable to letting myself think about what was waiting for me, especially since I knew that was exactly what Jack wanted me to do.

  Slowly, my room began to darken and I had to turn my lamp on to continue my fruitless attempts at reading. When another hour went by, I though perhaps I’d been granted a reprieve, and Jack was passed out on the couch. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t beat me the first chance he got tomorrow, but at least I didn’t have to worry about it tonight. I decided to put on my pajamas and try and get some sleep. I pushed the heavy tome to the floor with a sigh. I would just have to wing it in government like I usually did and hope there wouldn’t be a pop quiz over the reading assignment. I threw on my yoga pants and tank top and crawled into bed.

  Just as the anxiety began to ease around my heart, Jack threw the door to my room open. Outwardly, I gave no sign that the evil grin on his face stopped my heart. I quickly picked a spot above his left ear to concentrate on and kept a neutral expression on my face. The blessed floating sensation that came when my mind began to pull away from reality enveloped me like a warm blanket.

  “What do you think happens to little whores
who ride in cars with boys?” he spat in my face.

  I remained perfectly still and continued gazing at the door hinge. I knew of course that he didn’t expect an answer. This was the part where he explained to me why I was being punished. I often wondered why he even bothered with this part. His explanation was usually very brief. He could rarely contain himself very long before he went right ahead with the punching and slapping. I felt myself slipping away a little further.

  “I am going to make it so that you’ll remember not to accept rides home from boys every time you sit down for the next month,” he snarled softly.

  Despite my carefully controlled facade, my eyes darted to his.

  “Oh, did that get a reaction from Daddy’s little ice princess? Good. This is going to be a lesson I promise you will never forget.”

  My mind desperately sought to pull away from reality. The swooshing sound Jack’s belt made as he quickly unbuckled it and pulled it from the loops around his jeans made me flinch slightly. I hadn’t been ‘spanked’ since I was twelve when Jack discovered that slaps and punches caused me to cry out more.

  “Pull your pants down little girl and bend over that bed! ”

  The blood froze in my veins. Jack had spanked me more times than I could count, but he never, ever, required me to remove any of my clothing before I was spanked. This was a new and terrifying twist. I struggled to get back to my calm place as I stared at him with my mouth hanging open.

  I waited a second too long.

  Jack backhanded me so hard he knocked me into the opposite wall. Blinding white light exploded before my eyes, and I saw nothing else for a few seconds. My hand immediately flew to my already swollen face as I gasped in pain. The sound of me hitting the wall was so loud, I knew my mother heard it but there would be no rescue coming from her. She usually retreated to the back porch the moment Jack began yelling at me. I was alone.