Read and find out, please! Sorry it's been so long. But it's loonnnggg.
We had made it. It was the last week of school; I had been living with Ryan for three months. This Wednesday morning, it was June 8th, the last Wednesday of the school year. It was also my eighteenth birthday. My groggy, tired eyelids lifted as I woke in our queen-sized bed. My eyes darted around the room until I found him. Ryan. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas, a fitted bright blue Circa Survive shirt and plaid red boxers, with his cream coulored Epiphone Casino perched on his slender thighs. He began strumming a F# chord, and I knew what he was going to play. He took in a quiet, deep breath, and soon, his comforting and caressing voice filled the room.
Just stop your crying, it'll be all right.
Just take my hand, hold it tight.
I will protect you from, all around you,
I will be here, don't you cry
That song reminded me of the first night Ryan found out about my mother. It brought tears to my eyes as I recalled that night; the night I wanted to forget.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(flashback: 3rd person)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had kept the bruises hidden, and their cause even more so. She never told anyone. No one but Kaylie and Brendon, both of which had offered 24/7 safe havens at their houses. She was merely fourteen; barely grazing the fields of womanhood. She'd been fighting a silent war of abuse at home for the past four years. It had all started when her father had died. He was a general in the Army; they knew there was a risk of him dying, but they'd always hoped, no, they always believed that he would be coming home alive and cheerful, not in a flag-draped coffin. That night, she didn't know what she'd done wrong. But the monster raged; her sorrow and anger was projected onto the girl's thin frame.
Whore. Skank. Bitch. Useless. Worthless. Ugly. The words rained down the same way her belt did. It cracked against her hip, her back, her thighs. It made its way to her face, fracturing her nose with a frightening crack. She felt the blood drip down her face. What had she done to make her so mad? She dropped the belt, letting her hand slip into the kitchen drawer and pulling out a bread knife. She pinched forward the delicate flesh of Nicole's stomach and carved the word 'scum' into it, being very careful not to hit any major arteries. She dropped the knife on the white tile kitchen floor; blood splattered from the blade. It looked eerie, like an old horror movie, to see the crimson liquid on the white floor.
She crawled to the bathroom down the hall, leaving bloody streaks on the pale hardwood floor. She opened the door with her bloody hand and reached for the first aid kit under the sink. She cleaned and bandaged her wounds as she pressed the cold compress to her nose. The word on her stomach was the worst. She soaked some gauze with hydrogen peroxide; the foam on the gashes stinged as she bandaged it. She washed her face and called Brendon, knowing Kaylie was out of town. She walked to his house, only three blocks away. When she entered, Brendon sprinted to her, seeing the array of gauze and butterfly stitches all over her frail body. She saw another boy there, too. He was slender, and very tall, with the most captivating honey coloured eyes...
I didn't realize I was crying until Ryan put down his guitar and sat next to me, cupping my face in his large, soft hands.
"What's wrong?," he whispered. His breathtaking eyes saw right through my mask of a smile. "You were thinking about that night, weren't you? When she...," his voice trailed off. He looked off into space, then he cleared his throat, looked back at me, and continued. "And you went to Brendon's house, and I played you that song." In response, I crashed my lips into his. Hard. The kiss was deep and passionate; his hands smoothed my back as his tongue flicked across my lower lip. Instead of allowing him entry, I kissed the pale hollow of his neck, sucking gently, then harder, trying to leave my mark; I could feel the pulse of his jugular. I ran my tongue down his Adam's apple, savoring the sound of his moans. We were interrupted, however, when my Sidekick vibrated from across the room. I pulled away from his neck, muttering profanities as I walked over to my phone.
"Ryro, school," I said, the dissapointment in my voice obvious.
"Ugh, fine." We showered (together, of course) and went through our normal morning routines: I straightened my hair and did my makeup, Ryan made PopTarts and did his hair. We walked to school that day, meeting Brendon and Kaylie along the way.
"GOOD MORNING, MOTHERFUCKERS!," shouted Brendon gleefully. He was already on his Red Bull high, with Kaylie giggling in his arms. They were unbelievably cute together, especially on that day: Brendon's childish grin along with his ebony spiked hair and red rimmed glasses looked effortlessly cute with his grey skinnies and lavender hoodie. And Kaylie, just, damn. She was what every girl wanted to be: She was small and delicate, and her neon yellow tutu looked adorable over her faded skinnies. She was wearing a slashed, fitted Slipknot tee, along with black Chucks with the toes drawn on. Her hair was black with a variety of neon coon tails, and it reached to just above her butt. She had a septum ring that was pink metal, and she pulled it off like no other. Oh, and she was my best friend. We hugged and exchanged our usual greeting.
"Wassup, nigga?!," she shouted playfully, although we were both as white as it gets.
"Not much, ya whore!"
"I love you!"
"Love ya too!" Ryan gave me a mock-sad face, so I turned to him and put his face in my delicate hand. "But not as much as I love you," I whispered against his lips as we kissed. Brendon and Kaylie didn't notice; they were doing the same thing. We pulled apart reluctantly and laced our fingers together, walking into the school. As we approached my locker, he pulled me into a surprise hug from behind; his black-hoodie-clad arms were tight and warm around my tiny waist.
"Come by practice today? It's your birthday gift," he whispered into my ear before biting the delicate ear lobe.
"Mmmmm... okay. I love you."
"Plus que ma propre vie," he replied. More than my own life, I thought. He had no idea. His arms released me after what felt like the longest time, and I felt completely and utterly alone again. More than my own life, I pondered. You have no idea. My angel.
Fluff with some insight into how bad the abuse had been... yeah. Sorry to burst you bubble, but the abuse scene was NOT fictional. That happened to me. And Kaylie is also my legit bestie. I ran to her after that night. So, long update. I just really wanted to write. I know it sucks. It's kind of a filler. But don't worry; it'll get better soon. Please, guys, review?! I haven't gotten a single review. Ever. Pleeaassseee? I'll keep updating because this story needs to be written down somewhere, but I really, really, really want a review.
Nicole (Yeah, that's my name.)