Little Battles (18 page)

Whether she was asking about that first time or how long he was in my life, the answer was the same, “Too long.”

“Do you remember…” she said, but I covered my ears, unwilling to listen to her finish her questions.

I didn’t want to remember any of it.

I rocked back and forth, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to block out the shit that was crashing down around me. I could hear his voice and smell the metallic, sweet smell of my own blood. I could taste his hand and feel the fiery bolts of pain as it shot through my scared little body.

I was convulsing and I wished that I was dead.

I awoke with a groan to the loud knocking. My head hurt as usual, and I wanted to tell David to stop. Then I realized it was Sunday. I glanced at my clock and saw that it was also incredibly early on Sunday. Why was someone knocking on my door? Not even David would get up at this hour on the weekend.

I slipped out of bed and grabbed my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. When I unlocked and opened my door, I was extremely surprised to find Sophie standing out there, arm raised to knock again.

As I took her in, the smile that automatically came to my face at the sight of her faded quickly.

She looked strange.

I glanced down the hallway and saw Robin standing at the end of it, her eyes steadfast and fixed on Sophie. “W-w-w…” was all I could get out.

She had her arms wrapped around her mid-section, her shoulders hunched over. Instinctively I reached out for her hand, wanting to draw her to me, but she stepped back.

I was confused.

She was here, in my house, at my door before six in the morning looking like she’d had the longest day known to man, and she wouldn’t let me touch her. Then I remembered she’d gone to Cierra’s party. Her normal sweet smell was overshadowed by the stench of cigarettes and alcohol.

Had she come here straight from the party?

“SSSSophie?”

Her eyes danced around for a moment, never actually fixing on me. Then she extended her hand, pointing behind me, and I recognized that she was asking to come in. I stepped aside and she walked past me. At the same time, I glanced back out to the hall, but Robin was gone.

I turned around and found Sophie looking at my books as she reclaimed the green rock she’d just brought back. I didn’t know why she’d taken it or why she liked it. One day I looked up at the shelf, and it was gone; then she’d pulled it out of her pocket Friday night and replaced it on the shelf. She fisted her hand tightly around it, then brought her closed hand against her thigh and pressed it there.

“W-w-what’s w-w-wrong, SSSSSSophie?”

She hesitated before turning around. Her eyes were glued to the carpet and I wished that she’d just look at me. Maybe I could make her sadness go away.

She quickly rambled off a long string of words, but I could only catch “Anderson” and “Tom.”

“W-w-what?”

“I fucked Chris.”

A knife plunged into my heart.

She looked up at me, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

“W-w-w-w-w-what?” I said again.

She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, wincing when it got stuck for a moment. “Or he fucked me or whatever, and then Tom was in my room and I—”

Perhaps it wasn’t what I should have done, but I interrupted her. She’d just said that she’d had sex with Chris. I didn’t want to believe that. I didn’t want to know that.

“W-w-what d-d-d-do you m-m-mm-mmmean, you f-f-f-f-f…”

I stopped when she shook her head. The action caused tears to roll down her cheeks. I took a step forward, but she took a step back, and I stopped. Then she held out her hand. “Please stay there,” she demanded softly.

I planted my feet as my chest tightened. Sophie was acting strange. She was worried and nervous, and quite on edge.

“W-w-w-what d-d-d-d…” I tried repeating my question, but couldn’t get past the second word, since my mind was preoccupied with all of the thoughts Chris had put in my head over the past few weeks.

“I don’t fucking know, Elliott. I was drinking and I blacked out or something.” The agitation in her voice and the way she kept fidgeting told me that something was really wrong. Her tears fell quickly, her face nothing but a showcase of pain and shame. “And I’m fucking sorry. I don’t know. I just know…I mean, who the fuck knows? Maybe I—”

“You w-w-were unc-c-c-conscious?” My mind was reeling. Not only did she indicate that she’d had sex with Chris Anderson, the guy who’d made it his fun-time activity to pick on me since I’d moved to this town, but she was telling me that she’d drunk herself into unconsciousness before it happened.

If she was unconscious when they had sex, then…

“I don’t remember. When I…I don’t know how long I was out or whatever, but all I know is that he was…” she let that hang for a moment as she looked down at her feet, squeezing the rock tighter, and I worried that she’d cut herself on it. “He was…on me when I...but shit, with me, you can never tell. Who fucking knows what happened? I’m fucking sorry, Elliott.”

I didn’t know what to do. I was trying really hard not to hyperventilate, but I was having difficulty getting my mind to do anything slowly. My thoughts came in a rush and were all over the place, and I couldn’t focus. How was it that I could handle Jane’s bloody meltdowns, but now I was on the verge of passing out? I felt like dirt because she was waiting for me to say or do something, but my body was just as frozen as my throat always seemed to be. I had no way of comforting her when she was completely in need of it, and I felt completely inadequate because I couldn’t get a handle on everything going on inside of me.

I had to focus or I risked getting lost in all of the thousands of thoughts swimming and pushing around in my brain. “A-a-are you o-o-o-okay?” It was all I could think to ask.

Sophie didn’t respond. Instead she brought her arms up and wrapped them around her torso again. One of her legs was bouncing. She sighed and looked away from me.

“Sorry about waking you up,” she said. Her voice was not as agitated as before, but still held an edge.

I took a step toward her, but even though she didn’t step away, she couldn’t stop moving. She unwrapped her arms from around her waist and brought them up to protect her chest, before covering her head, and then bringing them back down to cross over her again. Her leg continued to bounce, moving quicker, her breathing entirely too fast.

“SSSSSSophie…” I suddenly remembered something else she said. “W-w-what hhhhappened w-with your fffather?” My hope was that he’d caught her with drugs. I didn’t want her to be in trouble but I wanted her to stop, and I was sure Mr. Young could make that happen.

“He was…” She stopped to breathe, “nothing.” I narrowed my eyes as she quickly looked up at me. Then she began again. “He was…in my room and I didn’t…” She shook her head, clearly becoming agitated. “I mean, it’s my room. Mine. He shouldn’t have…” As she took a sharp intake of breath, I became aware that I was holding mine, which was never a good thing, and was usually followed by a panic attack.

I focused on breathing. My muscles stiffened and my heart raced.

“Elliott, don’t.” I watched her, feeling powerless as she shook her head, her eyes widening. “I’m fine, okay? Don’t…don’t panic or anything. I’m…you know, I’m…fine.”

She came over, her hand already extended. I closed my eyes as she reached up and ran her fingers through my hair, and I breathed deeply, thanking God for being able to breathe at all. My heart rate slowed and I swallowed hard. After a few moments, it was better.

Now she was close to me.

I reached out and encircled her fisted hand. “W-w-what hhhhappened?”

She shook and I inched just a little closer.

“He was in my room and…and it just…scared me.”

“B-b-but you’re o-okay?”

Sophie sighed and her hand fell away from my hair. Then she went back to wrapping her arm around herself again. “Yeah. I mean, apart from having fucked Anderson.”

The knife was back, twisting agonizingly slowly into my heart.

She shook her head and stepped around me. “I’m…I’ll be right back.” She unlocked the door and opened it, then disappeared across the hall and into the bathroom.

If I had ever hated Anderson before, the emotion paled in comparison to the hatred I felt for him now. She was gone a long time and I sat down on my bed, waiting for her. I figured that she would like to have some normalcy. I would sit on my bed, and she would sit on the couch, the way we had that first Friday night and every one following.

When Sophie came back, her eyes were glazed and I wished that I had taken the pills out of the cabinet when I had thought about it Friday night. I would have to move them today.

I hated taking all of those pills and sometimes I only took half of what was prescribed, but both David and Jane took theirs religiously.

It was obvious that she was high. Just moments ago, she hadn’t wanted me to touch her or be close at all until my near panic attack, so it was a dead giveaway when she crawled onto the bed and up to me. As she knelt there, she picked at the sleeve of my t-shirt. She was breathing slowly, and her eyes were so weary and distant.

“You llllook t-tired.”

She shook her head.

“You sssshould ssssleep, SSSophie. I w-w-won’t…” I was going to tell her that I wouldn’t touch her, but the thought of touching her, regardless of what she’d been through just a few hours ago, made me tense and anxious.

Maybe she shouldn’t be in my bed.

“J-Jaaane w-w-w…

“No! I don’t want to be with her. Can’t you just stay with me?” She looked away. “I mean, just for a little while? I didn’t mean…”

I nodded quickly, wanting to assure her that I wouldn’t just abandon her, but she needed to sleep and I wasn’t sure if that would happen if she stayed here. “You sssshould ssleep.”

She slid her hands from my sleeve, and down to my hand. I was really upset at myself that she was in this state. Her episode with Chris had obviously been traumatic, and seeing her father in her room certainly didn’t help the situation.

“I-I’m sssorry I d-didn’t go.”

“Go where?” she asked, her voice dripping fatigue.

“T-to the p-party.”

“Mmm, s’okay.”

How could she think it was okay? If I had been there Chris might have punched me in the gut, but he wouldn’t have done that to her. “I-it’s n-not o-o-okay, SSSSophie. A-at b-best he t-took advantage of you. A-at w-w-worst, he r-r-r-rrrraped you.” The use of that word made my head pound, but I pushed the dull ache aside when she jerked away from me again.

“Please don’t be dramatic, Elliott.” While she tried to make her voice sound casual, I could still detect the controlled panic. “I went to the party. I drank. I screwed up and who the hell knows? Maybe I propositioned Anderson. I can’t remember.”

“B-But w-why aren’t you…”

Her eyes flashed for a moment, and then she leveled me with a glare, driving out any thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was hard. “Because guys fuck me, Elliott. It’s…”

My jaw clenched and I threaded my fingers tightly together. “I-It’s w-what?”

“It’s what I’m for,” she said with a sigh.

My heart nearly stopped, this time not from rising panic, but from being absolutely terrified that she really thought of herself that way.

“You c-c-can’t b-believe that.” I honestly hoped she didn’t. That was a horrible thing to believe.

She scrubbed her eyes roughly with the heels of her hands, and I could see how tired she really was. “Whatever,” she said and moved as if she was going to get off the bed, but I gently stilled her by taking her hand again.

She was not going to like what I was going to say. “Mm-m-maybe you sssshould sstop getting h-high.”

Again, her voice held an edge that I could just barely discern over her fatigue. “I wasn’t high.” I knew she was lying because she looked away from me at the precise moment she said “wasn’t.” “I had a couple of drinks, Elliott.” She rested her head against my shoulder for just a moment, and after taking a deep breath, she pulled away and smiled at me.

I didn’t know how she could do that. How could she smile now? How could we be talking about what I considered a sexual assault and abusing drugs, and then she just pushes it to the side, compartmentalizing it and smiling as though we hadn’t even opened our mouths about it?

“Let’s get coffee.”

I was confused as I studied her. “B-but you ssshould sssleep.”

Shaking her head, she got off the bed and stood up, stretching. “No, I’m good.”

I tried to convince her, but I could tell that she was over it. We went to the kitchen where the coffee was already brewed and sat at the island. She picked at the toast I’d made for her and ignored Robin, who sat at the kitchen table reading a newspaper.

Jane was shocked, but seemed delighted that Sophie was here so early. After eating some cereal, she commandeered Sophie and they disappeared upstairs.