You Got Me (8 page)

I looked down at my arms. I hadn't written on them since Friday morning and all of the ink had washed off in the shower. Usually I would panic if there wasn't something on them, but not today. I didn't need anything on them. I was shocked.

Maybe having a friend
was
good for me?

Or, maybe 3 years of therapy had paid off.

Either way, I liked that I was getting better. I was so sick of being
that girl
...

I thought back to my life in Chicago. After Steve and Emily adopted me, I kept the name my mom gave me... Emma Bradford... I didn't think it would be an issue. I was going to school in a different part of town. Nobody knew me. I tried to be normal, and even made a couple of friends.

But, then something happened. Somebody at the school found out about my past. They found out about my mom and what she did to me. Then they were all scared of me. They thought crazy might be contagious. That's when I begged Steve and Emily to change my name. Of course I took their last name, Gibson. They were my parents, after all. I let them chose my first name. I didn't care what it was, as long as it wasn't Emma. Because the truth was, I wasn't Emma anymore. They named me Roxy, and I liked it.

To go along with my name change, I also put a strip of pink in my hair. That's when we moved to Alabama. Both Steve and Emily were from here, and I was ecstatic because nobody here knew me. It was like I got to start over. I was homeschooled through my senior year, which was what my therapist suggested.

I started writing on my arms last year, when I started college. As a freshman, I was a little overwhelmed by the amount of people on the college campus... After spending my senior year being homeschooled, it was a big adjustment. A few people had tried to talk to me, which I didn't expect. I even had a few guys ask me out. Me, trying to be normal, went out on a date. I never expected to feel so smothered. I ended up locking myself in the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, but nothing could stop me from panicking. So I got a pen out of my purse and wrote on my arms.
I am strong. I will not let the past control me.
The more I wrote, the better I felt. And the more I wrote, the more people stayed away from me. I liked it.

It was then that I decided maybe I was crazy. Most people enjoy company. Having friends is normal. Me, wanting to be alone, is not normal.

But what about Aiden?
The truth was, I liked being around Aiden. I'd rather be around him than be alone. Does that mean that maybe I'm
not
crazy?

I shook off the thought. I was destined to be crazy, just like my mom. The sooner I accepted it, the better off everybody would be. I couldn't let Aiden get too close to me.

AIDEN

I was sad to go back to college Sunday night. I enjoyed being at home, and I'm pretty sure Roxy liked it too. Things there felt different, in a good way. And Roxy hadn't written on her arms all weekend. That was awesome.

I looked at Roxy who was sitting in the passenger seat. She looked deep in thought. We had just left Heart, so we still had a 2 hour drive ahead of us.

“What are you thinking” I asked.

She looked over at me, a little shocked. “Um, nothing, really.”

I was so curious about what she was thinking about, and I wondered why she wouldn't tell me. Was she thinking about me? No, probably not. Not once has Roxy acted interested in me as anything more than a friend. The thought should make me happy, but it didn't. If anything, it kind of made me sad.

“
What about you?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”

“
Just that I had a lot of fun this weekend.”

“
I did too,” she agreed. I could hear the smile in her voice. “Grace is the little sister I always wanted but never got.”

Roxy is a very private person. She doesn't talk much about her feelings, but every once in awhile she opens up to me. I loved it when she did. I wanted to know everything about her. I needed to know why she was always so sad.

“I love your town,” she continued. “It's so small, but so charming. After I graduate, I definitely want to move somewhere far away from the city.”

“
Really?” I was shocked. “I figured you missed the city life. There isn't exactly a lot to do in Alabama.”

“
When I lived in Chicago, I wasn't exactly worried about being bored. I was just happy to make it through another day, alive...” She immediately cut off her sentence and cleared her throat. “Anyway, I think it's charming here.”

“
What happened to you?” I needed to know, but immediately regretted asking. I glanced over at her, tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Damn... I'm sorry, Roxy.”

She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry I'm so screwed up. I should tell you, but I'm scared. What if you don't want to be friends with me after I tell you?”

“Why wouldn't I want to be your friend anymore?”

“
Because it will scare the shit out of you, and it should. You should run far away from me and never look back.”

“
That will never happen.” I gripped the steering wheel tight. My heart hurt at her words. I wanted to help her, but I didn't know how to.”

She took a deep breathe. “Remember how I said I was in the hospital for 4 months?”

I nodded.

“
I was in the hospital because my own mother tried to kill me.” She shook her head, almost as if she was trying to shake off the memory. “My mom had 3 different personalities. One was similar to June Cleaver. Very motherly. One was cationic, all she did was stare at the wall. That one was my favorite. And the third one...” she shivered. “The third one was mean.

“
Every day when I came home from school, I would wonder which one would be there waiting for me. The mean one was there the most. And that personality was convinced I had a demon inside of me... That I was a monster...”

I could see the pain in her eyes, but I didn't stop her. She had never opened up to me, and she might never again.

“She would always hurt me.” She held up her hand. There was a scar in the palm of her hand. “She liked to burn me a lot. Always on my left hand in the same spot. She was trying to scare the demon out of me. Of course, it never worked. Each time she tortured me, it got worse.

“
On September third, my sixteenth birthday, I walked home from school. I remember praying the whole way home that monster mom wouldn't be there. I just... I wanted my birthday to be good.” She was now crying, and my heart hurt. “That day she took a knife and cut me from here,” she pointed to the top of her rib cage, “to here,” she pointed to the top of her leg. “She said said she was trying to cut the demon out of me.

“
I don't remember a lot of it. I passed out from the pain. But I remember waking up. My mom was covered in blood, and her hands... They were inside of my stomach.”

She began to sob, and I couldn't stand to watch her anymore. I pulled the car into a gas station and pulled her into my chest. I stroked her hair gently, wishing so bad that I could take the pain away. After a few minutes she pulled back.

“I need to finish...” she took a deep breath. “I passed out once more, but then I woke up again. I'm not sure how much later it was. I thought for sure I was going to die. I felt like I was dying, and a part of me wished I was dead. But my mom was sitting about 5 feet away from me. She was covered in blood and had her hands on her forehead. She was rocking back and forth. She looked over at me and said 'I'm sorry'.

“
I once again passed out. When I came to, it was 2 weeks later. I was in the hospital. Steve, he was my surgeon, and Emily was my social worker. Steve saved my life, and Emily helped me through one of the worst times of my life.

“
The first few weeks were the worst. I wanted to hate my mom so bad, but I couldn't. I wanted her. I needed her to comfort me and tell me everything was going to be ok.”

There was so much emotion in her eyes. She gently pulled up her shirt and showed me the scar, and I swallowed hard. I tried not to cry.

I didn't even cry at my own father's funeral. Why do I suddenly feel like bawling?

“
So now you know,” she said, pulling down her shirt. “And I won't blame you if you run away. In fact, you'd probably be crazy to stay.”

I looked her in the eyes. “I will never run away from you, Roxy Gibson. Never.”

She looked shocked at my words, but she smiled through her tears. “Why?” she whispered.

“
I care too much about you to run away,” I whispered back. She shivered, but not because she was scared. I gently ran my finger up the side of her arm. “I'm not going anywhere,” I promised.

Roxy looked at me, and I swear my heart dropped into my lower intestine. I had an overwhelming desire to kiss her. I knew that I shouldn't. She just told me her own mother tried to kill her. Kissing her felt like an extremely selfish thing to do at that exact moment.

I looked at her lips, and silently wondered what they would taste like. I imagined they would taste like she smelled... Like cotton candy. She licked her lips. I looked her in the eye once more. Was that...
desire
? Certainly not.

She inched a little closer to me, and tilted her head up towards me. It was then that I knew she too wanted to kiss me. I knew I shouldn't, but I did it anyway.

I lowered my lips to hers and gently kissed her.

In the past when I kissed a girl, it was with force. I only wanted one thing from them, but with Roxy it's different. I don't just want to have sex with her. I want her, all of her. And not just for one night. I wanted her for long term.

Her lips parted and I stuck my tongue inside. I was right... she did taste like cotton candy. I started to kiss her hungrily. I needed more of her. She too became eager. I pulled her over on my lap, never letting my lips leave hers. She straddled me with her butt against the steering wheel. I let my hands roam on her body, and she played with my hair. She was like a drug I couldn't get enough of.

Suddenly, I heard a horn honk. We both pulled back, and laughed when we realized it was her who accidentally honked the horn with her behind. It was probably a good thing, because I was about to take her right here and now. She deserved more than that. I wanted to go slow with her, and we definitely weren't going slow.

“As much as I want to take you right here, I'd rather our first time not be in your car at a truck stop.”

She smiled at my words. “You're probably right.” Her voice was breathless, and it was the sexiest thing I had ever heard.

Roxy climbed off my lap, and back into the passenger seat. She put on her seat belt, and after I felt confident I could drive again, we took off. But I couldn't stop thinking about her, and that kiss. I adjusted my pants, and hoped she couldn't see how hard she made me.

NINE

ROXY

I opened up to Aiden. Surprisingly, he didn't run, and he didn't think I was a psychopath. In fact, quite the opposite happened. And my head was still spinning from the earth shattering kiss we shared.

I had never kissed a boy before last night, but what I imagined was completely different from what I actually felt. I remembered how it felt to have his hands on me. I remembered feeling the bulge in his pants while I straddled him, and I couldn't help but smile. Were kisses always that intense? Was this what it felt like to have a crush on somebody? To love somebody?

I shook off that thought. I couldn't love him. I haven't known him long enough for that. But whatever it is that I'm feeling, I hope it doesn't go away. I hope
he
doesn't go away, because I actually like him.

It was Monday again, but even that couldn't bring me down. I
actually
didn't dread my upcoming appointment with Dr. Lewis. I wondered for a moment if I should tell her about my intense kiss with Aiden, but quickly stopped myself. No way I would tell her that. But I could tell her about my weekend. I went to a party with actual people, and I went to see Aiden's family. Certainly she would be happy about that.

Aiden sent me a  text while I was waiting for my appointment at Dr. Lewis's office.

Meet me on the roof? :)

I can't :( In an hour?
I text back.

Sounds good. Can't wait to see you.

I looked at the text and smiled. I replied,
Me too,
and then put away my phone.

5 minutes later, I was sitting in front of Dr. Lewis. Only this time, I didn't feel so exposed. I almost felt normal.

“
You don't have ink on your arms,” she noticed. “And you're smiling.”

I rubbed my arms. “I actually forgot about my arms. And I'm smiling because I have a reason to.”

“I take it you had a good weekend?” she asked. “Did you go visit your parents?”

“
They came up on Friday,” I then continued on to tell her about my weekend. I told her about going to the party, and then going Aiden's house and meeting his family... I told her everything, except about the kiss.