Bleed Like Me (16 page)

“Close your eyes,” he said. I shut them and held out my hand. Moments passed. I heard a clicking noise. Then again and again.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

The kitchen was alight with tiny candles. I beamed at Brooks. “Very sexy.”

He licked his lips and moved toward me. “I thought you might like that. So are you in?”

“In for what?”

“Are you running away with me?”

My eyes darted to the couch to make sure my brothers were still asleep. “I haven't decided yet.” I'd avoided the topic over the past week and Brooks hadn't pushed. Until now.

“It's a few months until my birthday. Even sooner till yours.”

“You really think your dad would come after you, after all this time?”

“I don't know. Maybe. I'm always expecting him, but when I'm eighteen, I won't have anyone looking after me. No caseworker checking in. No Sue. I think he's waiting for that.”

I nodded. It seemed unlikely, but who was I to say? Nothing about Brooks's life was anything I was familiar with.

“It could be both our birthday presents,” he said, inching closer. The desperate look on his face made me want to bury myself in him. I could give him this. I'd planned to surprise him with a tattoo, but this could be so much better. Or so much worse.

“We're gonna need to make some plans,” he continued. “Gather together our stuff. Kenji gave me a bunch of money, but you'll need to empty your bank account.”

Money. Ali. Guilt warred inside me against a deep longing
to escape with Brooks. The dual emotions were terrifying, paralyzing.

“I thought you'd have decided by now,” Brooks said. His voice hitched, and I couldn't tell if it was out of anger or hurt.

“It's a lot to consider. School, my brothers, my parents—”

“The parents who don't give a shit about you? Jesus, Gannon. Don't you love me?”

The words sat between us. I turned to look at the tiny candles. I did love him, but I'd never actually said it. It wasn't a word I used. It seemed too cliché for what we were about. And a tiny part of me didn't want to say it for fear of what it meant.

“Gannon?” He pressed his hands into my cheeks.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Gannon?”

Our closeness was too much. I tried to turn away, but his hands stayed locked on my face. I pushed him back and his face changed to seething anger.

“Why won't you say it?” he snapped.

“Say what?”

He snarled and gripped me. “Tell me you fucking love me. Tell me all this drama has been worth something. God, at least give me that.”

I bit down on my lip. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. What was my problem?

“Goddamn it. It was all for shit.”

He stepped back and slammed his foot into the cabinet. My head whipped to my brothers to see if the noise had woken them, but they slept on, curled together like a litter of puppies. Brooks grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the counter. He dragged me upstairs toward my parents' room and flung open the closet. I sat on the bed and pressed my knees into my face as he cursed and grabbed at the clothes hanging inside. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Pain and frustration clawed at me, attacking me from the inside out. Hundreds of needles of emotion pricked at my skin. I swallowed gulps of air and tried not to cry out. It was all too much.

Finally I heard a thump and then Brooks's loud exhale. I peeked at him. He stood in front of me with one of Dad's belts.

“Take it.” He shook it in my face.

The pressure ratcheted up. I shook my head. He stepped closer and waved the belt in my face.

“Take it.”

I reached out and skimmed my fingers over it but pulled them back. Brooks grabbed my wrist and shoved the leather into my hand. He dropped to the floor in front of me and pulled off his shirt so I could see his back.

“Hit me. Hold the opposite end of the buckle and hit me.”

Tears streamed down my face. “What are you doing?” He was so exposed I didn't know what to do.

The part of me that still clung to the belief that parents take care of their children and that there was hope for a better life dwindled into nothing as I gazed at the planes of his back.

“What are you doing?” I asked again.

“Giving you everything.” His words choked out of his mouth. “Now hit me.”

My hand shook and I dropped the belt. How could he let me have this? And how could he think I'd ever want it? Everything overwhelmed me. The sob I'd been holding back broke out of me, more a moan now.

I wrapped myself around him. “I love you,” I whispered. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

His body trembled. “Run away with me,” he pleaded.

There was nothing anymore but this. Us.

I nodded and kissed him. “O-okay.”

He pulled back and tugged on the hoops in my ear. Then his fingers moved down, following the lines of my face, brushing tears away. “It's going to be okay. I promise. Trust me.”

My stomach wound into an even tighter knotted mess. “It's too fast.”

“It's not.”

“My parents won't forgive me,” I whispered.

He rubbed his knuckles along my jaw. “They will.” His fingers moved over the buttons of my shirt, undoing each one. My breath caught. He tugged my shirt off my shoulders, leaving
me shivering in just a camisole. His teeth bit my shoulder at the strap. I sucked in a breath.

He started to peel off my cami, but I shook my head. “Not here. My parents fight here.”

He nodded and lifted me into his arms, carrying me to my room. I clung to him, glancing at the recent school pictures of my brothers in the hallway. Mine was there too, taken so long ago I couldn't even remember what grade I'd been in. Third? Fourth, maybe?

Brooks dropped me onto my bed and pulled off my cami. He stood in front of me and stared. I blinked back at him, my eyes moving over the tattoo on his chest. It was peeling and looked even more painful than it had the first day. He rubbed his hand over it and then moved his fingers to the scars on my stomach.

There was too much to say. But I couldn't utter a word.

“I love you so much,” he said.

I reached beneath my bed and pulled out a small package wrapped in Mom's silver holiday paper with a red bow on it. Brooks grinned at me as his fingers tore at the package.

“Early Christmas present?”

“Not exactly,” I whispered.

He held my razor case in his open hand before shaking his head.

“No carving tonight,” he said, and dropped the case onto the floor.

“It's not to cut.”

“Are you giving this to me?”

I nodded. He stared at me, his eyes boring holes into every carefully placed barrier I'd ever put up. He saw into me. More than anyone ever had. It terrified me and at the same time bound me to him even more. There would be no hope of walking away from this unscathed without each other. We both knew it.

He knelt next to the bed and took my hand in both of his. “Tonight changes everything. Here. Now. I want to know exactly what you feel. I don't want you to hide behind pain. I want you to give it to me.”

I rolled to my side and sat up. “I don't know what you're asking.”

He grabbed my chin and turned me toward him. “Yes. You do. I want all of you. Everything. I don't want your feelings slipping out of you in drops of blood. I want them in me. I want to be part of it.”

I scoffed, desperate to bring levity to the situation. “You're being melodramatic.”

“Gannon,” he said, and pulled me into his lap. “You know what I'm saying.”

My breath had already started to grow shallow. My skin buzzed with anxiety and anticipation. “I don't think I can.”

He gripped my hips too hard. “You can. You love me. You're running away with me. It's time to let me in. Please.”

I started to shake. My fists tightened. I wanted to hit something. It felt too raw. My jeans rubbed against my infected thigh. I wanted to peel out of everything, even my own skin.

And then I was kissing him, grabbing him, clawing him. I bit his lip so hard I tasted blood. And still it wasn't enough. He held my hands and I scratched him. We rolled off the bed onto the floor, and it was a mess of too many emotions held inside for too long spilling out until I shook and sobbed and he curled himself around me.

“That's my girl,” he whispered, kissing the tears from my cheeks. “That's what I wanted. Now it's mine too.”

Tears poured from me again and he held me tighter. Then, exhausted from it all, we fell into a deep sleep.

It was the fire trucks that woke me, not the smoke. The faint faraway sound of sirens pierced through my foggy haze and I woke up, coughing. Smoke hung in the air above me, and at first I thought Brooks had lit a cigarette. But he was snoring beside me. I coughed again and shook him. His eyes blinked open.

“There's smoke,” I said, still groggy. “Did you light a cigarette?”

He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. Three passes of his hands over his face. Then he bolted up. “Gannon. That's not cigarette smoke.” He moved to the door and grabbed the handle. He swore and drew his hand back. “It's a fire. We need to go out the window.”

I stood then, comprehension jolting me. “My brothers!” I
shouted and moved toward the door. Brooks pulled me back.

“The fire's out there. The handle is burning up. We have to go out the window.”

“No. My brothers are out there.” I tore out of his grip and pulled the door open, ignoring the searing pain of the handle on my hand.

Flames leaped into the room, pushing me back. Brooks tackled me to the floor. His body covered mine. “We have to get out of here,” he yelled over the roar of the fire.

He crawled to the window and pulled it open. The flames had grabbed on to my carpet and the room was filled with acrid smoke. Brooks tugged me toward him and tried to push me to the window.

“My brothers!”

“We'll get them,” he yelled. “But we have to get out of here first.”

He hoisted me toward the window and then I was falling. I tried to cling to the roof, but my hands slipped. I dropped to the ground and yelped. My ankle twisted beneath me. Pain and panic coursed through me. Brooks dropped next to me and pulled me into his lap.

“I hurt my ankle,” I told him. “My brothers! Go get them.”

Brooks looked at my awkwardly positioned foot and swore. Horns and sirens blared from the end of my block. Then firefighters were on us, everywhere.

One raced up to me and I screamed at him, “My brothers are inside. They were sleeping in the living room.”

He nodded and motioned to two others heading into the flames. My whole house was lit up. Fire lapped at every window. The outside was charred, and the horrible smell of suffocating smoke was everywhere.

Brooks slipped his arm around my waist, lifting me gingerly. “We have to get out of here.”

“What?” I turned on him. “My brothers are in there.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I know. And they're going in to get them. But we've got to get out of here. This is our fault. They're gonna come after us.”

“What do you mean? We didn't do anything.” I was shrieking, my eyes trained on the front door, waiting for my brothers to emerge. It was taking too long.

“The candles,” he shouted back at me.

My body went numb. Oh God. Had we done this? OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. My knees dropped to the ground. Brooks hauled me up.

“Gannon. We have to go,” he yelled again.

I shook my head. “I can't leave them.” Tears streamed down my face. “I have to get my brothers.”

Brooks cupped my cheeks in his hands and stared into my eyes. “This isn't going to end well. We have to bolt.”

“And do what? Leave them? What about my parents?” I asked, hiccupping through snot and tears.

“I don't know. We'll figure it out. But we have to go.”

I shook my head. “They're my brothers.”

Brooks smoothed his hand over my hair. “I know, baby. But I can't be wrapped up in this. I have a record. They'll send me back to juvie.”

“It was an accident,” I cried. “We didn't set fire to anything on purpose.”

Brooks brushed at my tears. “That isn't how they'll see it. I wasn't even supposed to be here.”

I opened and closed my mouth. Shouts came from behind me. Two firefighters burst out of the house, holding Miguel and Alex. Where was Luis? I shot up, ripping out of Brooks's hold, stumbling on my lame ankle.

I moved to the front door.

“Gannon,” Brooks screamed after me.
“Gannon!”

I barely registered the crowd of neighbors that had circled the sidewalk along the side of my house. I could only think about Luis. Still inside. I held my hand over my nose and blinked through the smoke pouring out of the front door. Voices screamed from different places. Firefighters on the right side of my house, hosing out flames. More by the truck, barking orders to one another. I pushed my way in, then dropped to
my knees and started crawling toward the living room couch. I realized he wasn't there as soon as I saw the entire thing was covered in flames.

“Luis!” I shouted.

Nothing.

“Luis!” I yelled again, coughing.

A tiny voice cried out from the corner of the room. I made my way toward it and found Luis with a blanket wrapped around him. His black eyes blinked in terror. I reached out to him and threw the blanket over his head, telling him not to breathe too deeply. I was coughing so hard I wasn't sure he even understood me.

I gripped his thin body, pulling him in to me, and started to move toward the door. My ankle dragged behind me. I almost couldn't feel it anymore. My head hurt and I was sweating. My eyes were watering so much I couldn't make out anything in the room. I buried my face in Luis's blanket and crawled forward, feeling his fingers cling to my shoulders through the scratchy fabric. The distance to the front door seemed like miles now. I had to stop to cough, trying desperately to rid my lungs of the burning. I got dizzy and leaned back. Luis dug his fingers in deeper. My brain screamed at me to move, but my lungs wouldn't release me from the endless coughing.