Breathe Page 3

  “You pull those pants down now you little bitch or it will be twice as bad if I have to do it for you!” He barked at me.

  That statement got my frozen hands moving. My entire body was shaking as I quickly shimmied out of my pants and was across the bed in ten seconds. I tried to picture myself sitting on a beach with the sand between my toes on a beautiful summer day with the sun on my face. I could almost hear the waves rolling in and smell the salt in the air before my heart dropped with his next menacing words.

  “Everything Bethany, I am going to beat your bare ass,” he demanded menacingly.

  Before I had time to react, He grabbed the back of my underwear and ripped them off in one yank. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears of humiliation that threatened to fall. I made a promise to myself a couple of years ago that I would never cry in front of him again. It was the only rebellion I indulged in because I knew it infuriated him when he couldn’t break me.

  The pain of the first strike across my skin was so shocking that I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to. Now that I knew what pain level to expect, I braced myself for the next blow and clamped my lips shut. I decided that this sicko wasn’t going to get any satisfaction from hearing me cry out in pain tonight.

  Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

  Blow after blow landed. The searing pain set my backside on fire. I could hear the sickening whistle of the belt as it cut through the air before each strike.

  Smack. Smack. Smack.

  Jack’s breathing got faster with every lash of the belt against my skin. My rear end stung like someone had built a campfire on it. I could feel something oozing down the side of my leg and pooling next to me but still he didn’t stop. It was impossible for me to get up and out run him now even if I tried, besides where else would I go?

  “You stupid little slut, what do you think boys want from you when you get in the car with them?” Jack spouted viciously as he continued to deliver blow after blow.

  He broke me somewhere after the tenth smack landed. The excruciating pain from the belt hitting my torn flesh was too much to take in silence. My wails of agony seemed to excite him even more. He wasn’t satisfied with flaying the skin off my rear end. He began to whip me with the belt from the back of my neck down to my ankles. Jack had worked himself into a righteous frenzy and continued to abuse me until I eventually passed out from the pain.

  A soft gasp brought me back to consciousness. As usual, my mother had waited until Jack passed out to check on me. Our redundant routine would consist of Mom telling me that Jack was justified in punishing me but had a hard time controlling his temper. If he didn’t care about me, he wouldn’t bother correcting me…blah, blah, blah. Then she would beg me to be a good girl from now on. If the thrashing was particularly severe she would give me Tylenol for the pain.

  Tonight there was no lecture. I was suffering too much to move a muscle, so I just stayed put until my mother decided to break the silence.

  “Bethany!”

  Her voice quivered as she spoke my name. She ran from my room.

  When I heard her come back I felt a cool wash cloth touch my back. The stinging I thought couldn’t get any worse escalated. It felt like she had alcohol instead of water on that wash rag.

  “Mom, please don’t touch me,” I begged.

  “You are bleeding. I need to get you cleaned up before it gets infected,” she instructed.

  Despite my pleas, my mom insisted on bathing my back from head to toe. I knew she was only trying to help, but I wanted to be left alone. I couldn’t even look at her knowing she allowed this to happen. Her concern felt false and the sight of her disgusted me.

  “There, now we are going to have to wait for the welts to stop oozing before I can put any cream on it.”

  Really? I just got whipped within an inch of my life and you are calmly discussing medical care of my wounds? Any other mother would have called 911 immediately or driven me to the emergency room. Any decent mother would have never let this happen to her child in the first place. I wasn’t sure if the tears I felt stinging my eyes were from the physical pain or the emotional pain of knowing my mother chose to sit on the back porch while I suffered.

  I knew she was focusing on treating my wounds because she was in shock from the horrendous mess that my back must look like. I couldn’t find the emotion to care how she felt. She could disappear for all I cared at that moment. Right now, I just wanted her to go away and leave me to my misery.

  “I don’t know what on earth you did to warrant this, but we can talk about it tomorrow. I’ll call the school in the morning and tell them you are too injured to attend for a while.”

  She handed me four Tylenol and held a glass of water out to me. When it was clear I wasn’t able to sit up enough to take it, she got me a straw and I was able to swallow the pills lying down. I gently put my cheek back on my pillow and closed my eyes hoping she would take the hint and leave now. A few seconds ticked by and I began to wonder if she’d left yet before I heard a soft sigh.

  “I’ll check on you in a couple of hours. We will get some ointment on those when they dry up a bit and I’ll bring you some more pain medicine,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  She patted the bottom of my foot and closed the door behind her. I spent the rest of my night concentrating on getting from one second to the next without sobbing. I hated sleeping on my stomach, but it appeared like this was going to be the only position for me for a while. Sleep was elusive for me under the best of circumstances but trying to sleep with this level of pain was impossible. After an hour or so, I felt the Tylenol take effect. It didn’t help significantly, but at this point I would take what I could get. I closed my eyes and was able to feel an ocean breeze and hear the cry of seagulls.

  A hand brushed the hair back from my face. Thinking my mom had finally come to check on me, I opened my eyes and carefully turned my head to look behind me. I was surprised to find I was alone. I closed my eyes and struggled to focus on something besides the pain. Sometime later, I started to doze again when I heard muffled cries. My mom was sitting right outside my door. It was somewhat comforting to know that at least she was upset to see me savagely hurt, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

  The entire backside of my body felt like it was in flames. My muscles were screaming from being in one position for so long, but I couldn’t budge. The slightest movement caused the agony to escalate to the point where I felt nauseous. I was alone and immobile. The prospect of spending the night in my own vomit had me staying right where I was.

  Jack had really out done himself this time. The thought of having to wake up tomorrow and face him again made the nausea creep up my throat and set my pulse racing. My only choice was to stare at my bedroom wall and listen to my mother’s muffled cries in the next room.

  After a few minutes, I heard her get up and walk towards the living room. I was hoping she would come back and give me more medicine, but she never did. I was left to stare at the wall for hours desperately longing for the escape of sleep. Anything to give me a respite from the tremendous pain I felt. Tears silently trickled from my eyes. It wasn’t just the pain. I was weeping for the little girl I was before this monster came into my life. I was grieving for the person I should have been before fists and hateful words crushed my spirit. I shut my eyes tightly hoping to sleep. Hours later, I finally fell asleep to the rhythmic touch of my mother’s hand brushing though the back of my hair.

  Chapter Four

  LOGAN

  It was Tuesday morning and Bethany hadn’t been to school for over a week. I missed her. School was monotonous without the expectation of seeing her every day. I sat at her usual table while she was gone, praying she would walk through those library doors. It was the only thing I could do for her until I saw her again.

  Praying always reminded me of my mom. When I was little, she took me to church every Sunday and listened to my bed time prayers every night. After she was gone, my dad never
stepped foot in a church again. We never talked about why but my best guess was he was mad at God. When I was old enough, I went to church by myself most Sundays. It was something I could do to honor my mom’s memory and helped me to maintain a tangible connection to her in some way. God’s existence was something that I questioned just like everyone else. I finally came to the conclusion that life is so intricate, so complex, that it was impossible that it just happened by chance.

  I could not explain how or why but Bethany had become very important to me, very quickly. Some people you just ‘click’ with immediately. Like you have been waiting for them your entire life and when you finally meet them, you want to say, “Oh, there you are!” Bethany was that person for me. I’d had one real conversation with her, and I found myself missing her like crazy. She was becoming an obsession with me. I knew it wasn’t smart or healthy, but she was constantly on my mind.

  After that run in with her dad, I resisted the temptation to knock on her front door to see if she was alright. It would just make things worse for her. Besides, I already knew she wasn’t okay. I just wanted an excuse to see her. I wanted to promise her that I was going to make sure she was never hurt again.

  I was absent mindedly twirling a pencil on the library table as my thoughts wandered to the first time I saw her. I glanced into those brilliant green eyes when Bethany bumped into me and just for an instant she let her guard slip. She was so flustered that I was able to see true emotion on that beautiful face. Just as soon as I saw it, the wall came back down and shut me out. It made me intensely curious, and I knew I had to get to know her better. It took several weeks of lurking in the library, but eventually I was able to get her to trust me enough to take her home. That brilliant idea didn’t turn out so well.

  I heard the library doors open and peered over my shoulder to see the object of my musings walking awkwardly toward the front desk. Mrs. Calloway glanced up from her computer screen. A welcoming smile lit her ancient face.

  “Bethany, it’s great to see you back at school. We missed you. Nurse Renner said your mother called to let us know you were in a car wreck. I am so thankful you and your mother are okay.”

  Bethany’s gaze darted to mine. She quickly looked away before she answered.

  “Thank you. I am feeling better, but my muscles are still a bit sore.”

  She was lying. Her slow measured steps were not caused by sore muscles, and I knew it wasn’t from a car wreck. I fought to control the fury that rose up at the thought of that imbecile laying a hand on her. Bethany gradually made her way to the table at the back of the library. She warily avoided eye contact as she walked past me. It was agonizing to watch every slow painful step she made. I deliberately turned my head to watch her progress as she walked past me. She pulled out her chair and sat down gingerly. That was all I could take. I waited until she got her books out to approach her. When she realized I was heading her way, her expression never changed, but I noticed she tensed up.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  I flashed my best grin. She wasn’t impressed.

  “Look Logan, there are ten other tables you can sit at and I have a ton of make-up work to do,” she huffed.

  Dismissing me, she looked back down at her book. I stood there for a good ten seconds, but she refused to acknowledge me. I was not going walk away from her so I cleared my throat and tried again,

  “Bethany?”

  She signed theatrically and tore her gaze away from her book to glare at me.

  “If I promise to miss you, will you go away?”

  Not even that was going to work today. I was determined to get past her defenses.

  “Look, I am sorry if I got you in trouble last week. I really just wanted a chance to get to know you better. I had no idea it would set your dad off like that,” I continued.

  Her disinterested eyes widened when I mentioned her father.

  “That man is not my father,” she snapped vehemently.

  Bethany was really agitated by my assumption. It was nice to see a little fire underneath her cool demeanor. I was happy to learn the brute was not her father. She glanced at the doors, seizing a moment to compose herself. After a few seconds, she looked my way again and gave me a small, apologetic smile.

  “Sorry. It’s just that Jack isn’t my favorite person,” she explained. “The fact that he is my step-dad is bad enough.”

  “I totally get that,” I whispered.

  There didn’t seem to be anything more to say, so I sat across from her and began pulling my homework out of my backpack. I sensed that she wanted to protest, but evidently she decided it wasn’t worth arguing over. She peered my way once more before she resumed reading her book. Hiding my smile, my heart soared as I realized she was letting me in whether she knew it or not. I was trying to look busy and managing to get absolutely nothing done, but it felt good to be around her again. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Being around Bethany was as easy as breathing to me. It felt right to be near her.

  The other guys at school thought I was crazy to even approach her, but they didn’t take the time to look beyond her outward demeanor. I immediately saw through her disguise. It was obvious to me from the start that she was seriously wounded. Some types of pain are so deep that you have to hide from the world to survive. That was what this brave girl was: a survivor. Someone like Bethany was worth a little extra effort. After all, I didn’t really have a choice. I was drawn to this tiny girl by a compelling force I didn’t understand. It terrified me sometimes but I wasn’t giving up. I couldn’t. She had impossibly become the center of my world.

  The lunch bell rang and my time with her was abruptly over. As I packed up my paraphernalia, I noticed Bethany slowly rise from her chair. It was excruciating to watch knowing every tiny movement caused her pain. I quickly made my way to her side intending to pick up her backpack and carry it for her. I didn’t realize she was already reaching for it when I stooped down to pick it up. She lost her balance, and my hand instinctively shot out to grab her shoulder to steady her. She yelped in pain the instant I touched her.

  The sound tore at my heart and made me want to hurt someone at the same time. I immediately released her shoulder and grabbed both of her forearms until I was sure she was steady on her feet.

  “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I murmured as I reached down to retrieve her backpack.

  When I stood back up, I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. She bravely blinked them away as she looked up at me. My heart slammed inside my chest as I fought my instinct to rush her to my car and take her to the hospital. I wanted her pain stopped and I wanted it stopped now. Bethany would refuse of course. If I forced the issue, I could lose what little progress I’d made with her. If barely touching her shoulder caused her that much pain, I shuttered to think about what sitting in a chair or slinging a backpack across her shoulder felt like.

  When she shook her head, I wasn’t sure if it was in denial of the pain or if it was because she wasn’t alright. She collected herself and raised her hand out towards me.

  “I’ll carry the back pack. Thanks.”

  I had to swallow the terse reply that sprang to my lips. There was absolutely no way she would be carrying anything for a while if I could help it. I knew it was a risk, but I was not yielding on this one. Bethany was going to let me carry her stupid backpack around until she was healed up, but I knew she wasn’t going to like it. I took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

  “Look, you’re obviously in a lot of pain. I know it isn’t just muscle aches, but I am not going ask you what happened because you wouldn’t tell me anyway. You just concentrate on walking and I will make sure that your books get to your next class, okay?”

  She glared at me before she sullenly nodded her head and walked towards the double doors without any further discussion. We gradually made our way to her next class. I knew she was upset with me but if that was the price I had to pay to spare her more pain, then I would gladly pay it. Accepting help was a sign of
weakness to her but sometimes refusing help was a sign of weakness too.

  After the fourth period bell rang I strolled into Bethany’s class and snatched up her backpack before she even stood up from her desk. Not because I was fast but because she required so much time to stand up. She was astonished to see me standing behind her with her backpack already in my hand. I nodded my head toward her and gestured with my hand for her to lead the way. Her only protest was a little huff as she made her way to the hallway. The next period was pretty much the same except she rolled her eyes at me. When she turned her back to me, I couldn’t help but smile because she was absolutely adorable, even when she was annoyed.

  As the week continued, she grudgingly tolerated me hauling her backpack from class to class for her. When people at school spotted me escorting Bethany to her classes, I was worried that it would embarrass her. She feigned indifference to the stares and gossip. She was an expert at pretending unpleasant situations did not exist. She was slowly realizing that I wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  Chapter Five

  BETHANY

  Just like that Logan became part of my life. Whether I wanted him there or not, he was determined to stay. Despite the warning bells going off in my head, I let him continue carrying my books for me. To be honest, it was such a relief not to have to put that heavy backpack on my shoulder--I wasn’t going to put up too much of a fight. Walking from class to class was grueling enough, if I had to put up with a few rude stares and whispers because Logan was suddenly carrying my books, I could deal. I had a lot of experience with not caring what people thought of me.

  Unfortunately that skill did not seem to extend to Logan. My usual detachment slowly melted away where he was concerned. Actually worrying about what someone thought of me was frightening. He was great looking and seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I couldn’t imagine why he was wasting his time on me. I’d made it more than clear I wasn’t interested in a relationship, yet there he was after every class, waiting patiently by the door for me with my backpack in his hand.