In the Heart of Forever (A Heart Story) Page 2

  I would see those glittering emerald eyes in the halls but we didn't speak. I always looked for him while I pretended to read my books. I had even asked Mrs. Johnson if she heard from him but she had said that he only came by early in the morning. Her judgement of him changed each time she talked about. She would refer to him as a nice polite boy and how she wished everyone was like him.

  A week after meeting Rave, I trudged up the steps of my step father’s house after school. I didn’t call it my home. It wasn’t. My mother and I had moved in with him when she married the guy three years before.

  I had begged and pleaded for her not to marry that monster but since my daddy left before I was born, she was desperate for someone to take care of us. She had promised Allan Clow would make our lives easier. Comfortable. If she would have known what would happen two years later, I liked to think she would’ve run from him.

  He was a lawyer, worked like crazy but for some reason he was home today.

  When I took a step on the stairs to go up to my room, a heavy hand grabbed my pony tail, forcing my head back. “Where were you, little girl?” his grimy voice rang out, making my skin crawl.

  Tears pricked my eyes at the rough force. “I was at school,” I was about an hour late getting home because I went back to the library in hopes that I would see Rave again.

  “It’s 6 o’clock. You’re late making my supper,” Allan growled in my ear.

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I said, choking on a sob at the rough hold he had on my hair.

  “It fucking better not. Now, get your ass in the kitchen and make me something.” He let go of my hair and pushed me.

  I fell against the stairs, my books and bag tumbling to the ground.

  Allan walked away, grumbling something about stupid, lazy assed women.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. Six months, Jesse. Six months too long if you asked me. I could leave now, drop out of school and never look back but my mom needed me. Even though I didn’t deserve her love, I couldn’t turn my back on her. Images from that day at the top of the stairs flew into my head. Allan and her screaming. Horrible awful words being vomited back and forth. My mother falling. Oh God, if it wouldn’t have been for me stepping in between them, getting in the way, she would have been fine. No accident would have happened. I angrily wiped the tears off of my face, gathered my things and headed up the stairs. I threw my bag on my bed and stomped down to the kitchen.

  “Stop being so loud, girl,” Allan yelled from the lounger. “And grab me a beer.”

  I bit my cheek, swallowed back a curse and headed to the fridge. If it wasn’t for me grocery shopping every week, all we would have is beer. I grabbed a cool bottle from the shelf and walked back into the living room, placing it on the table beside Allan.

  As I turned around, something flew past my head and smashed into the wall beside me. I jumped as glass and liquid flew everywhere.

  “What am I going to fucking do with a bottle that isn’t open? Bring me a beer and open it this time, brat,” Allan spit out.

  Anger curled in my belly and I headed back into the kitchen. I grabbed another bottle from the fridge and made sure to open it. God, he is such an asshole. I didn’t understand how anyone could be that mean. I hated him. With every fiber of my being, I hated Allan Clow.

  “Make sure you clean up that mess you just made too,” Allan said without looking at me, grabbing the beer from my hand. He scratched his huge belly and went back to watching TV.

  My heart pounded as I headed to the closet. I grabbed a hold of the broom and held it. If I swung this hard enough, it would knock…No. I couldn’t think that way. I shook my head, ridding myself of those thoughts. I have to look out for my mom. Who knew what would happen to her or me if I did something stupid like that.

  I walked over to the broken glass on the floor and knelt, sweeping up the shards into the dustpan. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I knew other kids had it worse than me but what did I ever do to deserve this?

  Did my mother not notice how much of an asshole Allan was before she married him? I had no idea what went through her head at the time and a part of me was furious with her, which in turn made me feel guilty. The tears that I tried so hard to control rolled down my cheeks as I continued sweeping up the broken pieces of glass, my hands shaking with rage.

  “You missed a spot,” Allan chuckled and pushed me as he walked by.

  I gasped as my hand landed on the broken shards. A sharp burn shot up my arm as a jagged piece of glass dug into my palm. I pulled it out of my hand and winced.

  I huffed and headed into the kitchen to grab a towel. I cleaned up the blood and bit back a curse as a light chuckle sounded from the living room.

  “Where’s my food girl?” Allan asked as he walked back to his lounger.

  “Give me a second,” I snapped.

  “Well, what’s taking so long?”

  Well, if someone wouldn’t have thrown their beer against the wall, supper would have been started already.

  “I’m hungry,” Allan stated. He was always hungry.

  “And you’re an asshole,” I mumbled to myself.

  “What did you just call me?”

  I jumped and spun to see Allan standing a few feet away from me. His head was balding and his stomach protruded from his waist but I was no match for his 6 foot something frame. My heart sped up and my hands shook. “Nothing. I didn’t call you anything.”

  His eyes widened and he slapped me. The sound of skin meeting skin reverberated through the air and I couldn’t get the noise out of my head, black spots dancing in my vision.

  Allan grabbed my chin and dug his fingers into my cheeks, throwing me up against the wall. My head slammed against the solid surface, tears blurring his twisted face. I grabbed onto his wrists, digging at them, trying to get him to release me.

  “Now make my supper, brat,” he growled, spittle flying from his mouth.

  Under normal circumstances, I never in my whole life would think of doing this to anyone but the anger that brewed in my belly, seemed to have taken control of my body. I glared at him. Glared with as much malice as I could muster.

  His slimy face broke out in a grin. “You got some fire in ya, girl. Too bad you weren’t old…”

  At that point, I took my chance. Taking a deep breath, I spat in his face.

  His grin warped into a snarl, full of hate. He wiped his face and pulled back his fist to hit me but stopped.

  I flinched.

  “You’re lucky, girl. So very fucking lucky. If it wasn’t for your mother, little girl, you’d be out on the street so fast, your head would spin.”

  I glared at him and crossed my arms under my chest. My cheek stung from where he had hit me a moment before.

  Allan chuckled and headed back into the living room, whistling. Bastard.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, I woke up, staring at my ceiling. Allan ended up ordering pizza, saying he didn’t want blood in his food from my cut hand. Like I would contaminate him or something. I rolled my eyes and huffed, wincing from the pain coursing through my head. A monstrous ache pounded inside my skull.

  I pushed myself off of my bed and walked out into the hallway. The sun hadn’t risen yet, so I trudged to the bathroom and felt around on the wall for the light switch. I stood in front of the mirror and gasped.

  My hair was wild, like I stuck my finger in a light socket and my eyes were wide. Scared even. With shaky hands, I touched the red mark on my pale face. It looked like a sunburn or blush. Luckily it didn’t look like a hand print. Or I had hoped it didn’t.

  I grabbed a washcloth, ran it under warm water and went about cleaning my face. My reflection blurred as I scrubbed my skin. Scratching until my skin turned red and ached from the roughness of the cloth. I wanted to wipe away my face. Erase the pain that had been caused for the past couple of years. If I could just scrub harder, I could clean away the guilt. The guilt of not having my mom. The guilt of putting her in th
e hospital. Mom, I need you.

  I needed her more than anything at this moment. Since not having my mom as a punching bag, Allan had to resort to beating me instead. He didn’t do it often but when he did, I had bruises for days. They would always be in spots that were hidden. He would never hit me hard enough in the face, just slap me around a bit. But the mental abuse was worse…almost.

  I wanted to leave. Needed to. But the thought of leaving my mom while she was lying in a coma made unease curl through my belly. I had to be strong. Especially for her.

  A hard lump forced its way into my throat. I swallowed past it and stripped completely, turning on the shower. The scorching hot spray beat down around me, soaking me, easing the ache temporarily in my heart.

  I began to wash myself, scrubbing until my skin felt raw. As I soaked under the hot water, steam filled the small room, leaving the air thick with condensation.

  “Hurry up. You’re wasting hot water.” A loud bang erupted from the bathroom door.

  I jumped as Allan’s deep voice boomed through the room, making my skin crawl.

  He never touched me in that way before but as I was getting older, he started looking at me differently. He no longer looked at me as the brat he got stuck with because my mom was no longer around. I was seventeen and my small figure started to fill out, making him notice me in a whole new light. He was much bigger than me and if anything like that ever happened, I wouldn’t be able to fight him.

  If the girls who made fun of my drab, boring clothes at school knew the reason behind why I wore them, they might have treated me better. Clothes that were too big for me or with colors that helped me blend in. I didn’t want to be noticed. I didn’t want to be seen, but disappear. It was easier that way.

  I swallowed past the hard lump in my throat and shook my head, stepping out of the shower. Having forgotten my housecoat in my room, I wrapped a towel around myself. An undeniable amount of terror etched in my stomach knowing that I would have to leave the safety net of the bathroom in just a towel.

  Please God, let Allan not be out there.

  With a shaky hand, I slowly opened it and stuck my head out. The hall was still dark and there was no sign of him anywhere so I ran into my room, slamming the door behind me.

  With a sigh of relief, I leaned my forehead against my door. My heart raced and blood pounded in my ears. I took a couple deep breaths and turned around, sighing with relief when I didn’t see him anywhere in my room. Maybe I was being paranoid. He was a douchebag but he wouldn’t hurt me in that way. Would he? My skin crawled just thinking about it.

  ***

  I grabbed an apple as I left the house and headed to school. The cool morning wind whipped over me. It was the beginning of February but we had a warm front set in. Our small town hardly got touched with snow but frost coated everything.

  Allan wasn’t home when I left the house, his work hours thankfully taking him away for most of the day.

  My phone rang as I walked down the street and I smiled when I saw who it was. “Hi Jake.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I frowned. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

  He chuckled. “I know you.”

  He had a point. “Bad night.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  I sighed, slowing my steps. “No. I’m fine.”

  There was a pause and then Jake cleared his throat. “Okay, well I’ll see you at school.”

  “Jake, wait.” I gripped the phone, praying silently that he hadn’t hung up.

  “What’s up?”

  I took a deep breath. “I just want to thank you for—“

  “We’re friends, Jesse. You don’t have to thank me.”

  Anxiety flowed through my belly at the disappointment in his voice. “Okay, well I—“

  “I’ll talk to you later.”

  The line disconnected and I tossed the phone back in my bag.

  I reached the school a couple of blocks later and went right to the library, needing an escape. My cheek still stung from where Allan had slapped me and my stomach churned at the memory. I took deep cleansing breaths and tried telling myself that it could be different. Others had it far worse than I did. I had to be strong, not give up.

  I pulled a book from the shelf and sat down, leaning against the wall. My muscles twitched and moaned in protest, as I stretched my legs out in front of me.

  I looked down at my book and frowned when a water drop landed on the page. I lifted my glasses and roughly wiped the tears from my cheeks, surprised that I was crying.

  The heroine and hero happily expressed their love for each other and I grumbled, throwing the book on the floor in front of me.

  “Now that’s no way to treat a book.”

  I jumped at the deep smooth voice filling the aisle. Rave stood a few feet from me, leaning against the stack of books. A soft smile splayed on his handsome face, his eyes warm and inviting.

  His light cologne filled my nostrils, making my heart skip. His deep green gaze bored into mine. His shaggy black hair was messy, like he didn’t even bother doing anything with it.

  God, he was dangerously gorgeous. I bit my cheek, angry at myself that I let him affect me so. I ignored him and rose to my feet, picking up the book. I put it back on the shelf and turned to leave when a warm hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped at the contact.

  He pulled his hand away. “It’s Jesse right?”

  I looked back at him, surprised that I had wanted him to touch me again. I nodded in reply and grabbed my bag, heading to a table in the middle of the room.

  “Aren’t you going to talk to me?” he asked, following behind.

  Why would I do that? So you can hurt me too? I sat down in a chair, sighing and pulled my homework out of my bag.

  Rave sat across from me. “You’re not much of a talker are you?”

  I could feel his intense stare, drilling a hole into the top of my head but I didn’t reply. I wasn’t shy by any means but if I ignored him, then he would hopefully take the hint, leave me alone and then he wouldn’t be able to hurt me. I was protecting myself.

  We sat in silence. Neither of us saying anything as I flipped through the pages of my textbook.

  A moment later, as he continued to stare at me, I couldn’t take it anymore and slammed my book closed. “What?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “I’m waiting for you to talk to me.”

  He didn’t mention my face or asked what had happened. Maybe the red mark wasn’t noticeable and thank God for that. Now if he saw the fading bruises on my ribs, it would be a different story. A part of me had hoped that he would be my knight in shining armor come to save the day. I sighed, shaking my head of those fantasies. I wasn’t in a book or some fairy tale land. Huffing, I leaned back in my chair. “So you decided to stare at me until I acknowledged you?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What do you want?”

  A hint of humor flickered in his eyes as he continued to stare at me. The way his eyes bored into mine made it seem like he was seeing me for me. Everyone had always asked or looked at me with pity. But not him. It was like he understood. It didn’t make sense. Suspicion flowed through me.

  “I just wanted to talk,” he said casually.

  “Please stop staring at me.”

  “I’m not staring,” he argued. His deep green eyes flashed with amusement.

  “Yes, you are.” I crossed my arms under my chest and leaned back, raising an eye brow.

  “Wow. Someone’s not a morning person,” he teased.

  Tears burned my eyes, threatening to spill over. I quickly looked away and went for my bag, needing to distract myself.

  “Hey,” his voice softened. “I’m sorry. I was just joking.”

  I didn’t respond and pulled out my phone. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t stand for people to feel sorry for me. I didn’t need pity.

  I placed an ear bud in my ear and scrolled through my mu
sic list.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand and move to the seat beside me. Before I could place the second bud in my ear, he grabbed it from my hand.

  I looked up at him as he placed it in his own ear.

  He smiled softly.

  Our shoulders brushed, sending goose bumps over my skin. Sitting this close to him helped calm my rattled nerves but that confused me. I shouldn’t be feeling this way after everything that has happened. Could I be happy ever again? My mom would want that.

  He took the phone from my hand and scrolled through the list. No one else had ever seen or heard what I listened to. It was like my own personal music diary and he was the first one I shared it with. For some reason, that didn’t bother me. I wanted to share it with him.

  I sat back in my seat and looked around the vast room lined with my favorite books of all time.

  A moment later, a deep base pounded in my ears. I smiled, knowing the song he chose. It was a fast angry song and it fit perfectly for my mood.

  We both sat in silence, listening to the rough edge of the voice growling in our ears. It eased my heart some and I was able to momentarily forget about my crappy life.

  Sitting beside Rave while we both listened to my music, eased my angry and bitter mood some. I couldn’t explain it but somehow I had a feeling that he knew what I was going through without me even having to tell him.

  Chapter 4

  We got through about eight songs before Mrs. Johnson approached us. I stopped doodling in my notebook and took out the ear bud.

  “Morning Jesse. Rave,” she smiled brightly.

  “Morning,” we responded at the same time.

  Her smile widened as she looked between us, her eyes settling on my face. Her brow cringed.

  I smiled, praying she wouldn’t ask about my red cheek. It wouldn’t look like it came from a slap would it? I didn’t want her to report it.

  She seemed to relax, worry no longer scrunching up her features. “The first warning bell sounded and I didn’t want you to be late for class,” she said cheerfully.