Four Times Taken (Lily in Bloom #1)

Prologue

Lily | Fourteen Years Ago

Young, In Love and Clueless...

" S ick drawing! I'm impressed."

Spooked, I spun around to put a face to the shadow that had darkened my page seconds earlier. He's not familiar to me, but I wouldn't know either way, since I found more satisfaction socializing with my sketchbook than I did with the people at this school.

Closing the book, I jumped to my feet. "Yeah, well, I don't give a crap if you're impressed." I coupled my wrinkling brows with a scowl.

First of all, I didn't need a guy's opinion on what I did. Second of all, my drawings were private. It's how I took out my frustrations.

After witnessing my drunken father slap two shades out of my mother this morning, I wished so hard that she'd fight back. She might have if she weren't out cold after every slap because she was too drugged up to even stand straight most of the time. I couldn't stand either of them, but I despised my father and my older brother even more.

Needing a female figure to look up to, one who didn't take any man's bullshit, I had created her for myself. A female superhero in black and white, breaking a man's neck with one kick and finishing him off with a punch to the head.

It's dark, about as dark as my makeup and the color of my box-dyed hair.

No one's ever given a flying rat's ass about my drawings before, other than to make fun of them. I couldn't say I appreciated the flattery either.

What was he up to? What did he want?

With my sketchbook pressed close to my chest, I hurried away. But he's persistent.

"I'm sorry." He ran after me, causing my head to expand. "I didn't mean to offend you." He stopped, blocking me, and I looked away from him with a snarl, even as my chest tightened.

"Look, I'm new here. I'm just trying to make friends. I didn't mean to step on any toes. I thought your drawing was really cool. I'm Eric." He rushed to speak, sticking out his hand.

The tightness in my chest dissolved a bit. It's reasonable that he's nervous or whatever. Now, it made sense why he's talking to me. He's the new kid.

"Okay?" I looked at his offer of friendship and walked away from it. New kid or not, I'd rather he do as everyone else did and leave me the hell alone.

"Come on, I'm really trying here," he insisted, still walking next to me like a lost puppy following me home.

If he were a lost puppy, I could pet him and feed him, if I happened to be lucky that day with food, and send him on his own way, promising him that coming home with me would be like death. But he's not a lost puppy. I didn't want to pet him, I didn't want to open up to him, and I didn't want him to know where I lived.

"Why?" I snapped. "What do you want? Because I promise you that whatever it is you're looking for, I don't have it!"

He winced and shrugged. "I mean, your name would be a good start."

What was wrong with this guy?

"Fine," I grunted. "It's Lily," I bit out. "Now, will you..." I started, but he screamed and grabbed his chest, falling to the ground, bringing attention to both of us.

My feet came to a stop, and I'was frozen as the popular kids walked past us across the bright-green school lawn, grinning with each other.

"Hey, Phantom of The Opera. Did your face give him a heart attack?" this blond-haired, blue-eyed douche who thought he's some great gift to womankind said. The girls around him giggled as if he'was hilarious. I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, to humble him. He might have had them wrapped around his little finger, but he'd never have me.

"Wowww, so you're really going to just leave me here?" Eric groaned, and I hissed, trying to get away even faster. He caught up to me, and I raised my eyes up to the sky, on the verge of yelling.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked, stopping now, since it'was clear he'd go anywhere I went.

"I was just emoting," he said.

"What?" The casual way in which he answered caught me off guard, and my lips twitched in response.

"I figured that must have been how hard it was to tell me your name. It must have hurt like hell." He grimaced, and I surprised myself as a fit of giggles attacked me. Pressing my lips together, I tried to hide it from him, but I'was hopeless.

He gasped "My eyes!" He covered them. "They're lying to me. It can't be true. Are you smiling?" He peeked through his fingers.

"Don't get the wrong idea. It doesn't mean I like you or anything," I warned.

"Of course not." He grinned as we paced alongside each other. "So, what's your problem with me?" He walked backward with his hands in his pockets. "Is it my reddish-brown floppy hair?" He shook his head. "Or is it because I'm tall and lanky? Do I remind you of someone you can't stand? I mean, we haven't met before." He thought aloud. "Have we? Is that why you don't like me?"

"The problem is you're a guy." I raised my brows at him.

"Ouch," he said. "So, you don't like guys, then?" he asked.

"Nope." I plastered on a smile.

"Oh, that's cool if you're a lesbian or something." He shrugged.

Ah, damn. There went the fit of giggles again. A lesbian? Oh, I wished! Clearing my throat, I managed to swallow the laughter this time.

"Yes. I'm a lesbian." I nodded. "So, now, you can leave me alone."

"So lesbians can't be friends with guys now?" he asked.

"No." I shook my head. "It's against our code."

"Since when?! At my last school, I had a lesbian best friend. Guess she didn't get the memo." He looked down at his feet, in playful thought.

"Guess not." I shrugged.

We shared glances with each other as a moment of silence passed between us. My cheeks burned from the awkwardness. I'm the queen of awkward; it doesn't often affect me. This time, it did.

"So, what's really the problem?" He broke the silence.

"What do you mean?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

The answer was that I'd never had a reason to like men. The ones I'd been around hadn't represented their kind well. My father was the worst representation of them all. Not only did he beat the shit out of my mother, but he hated me even more.

He wanted a boy. Oh, poor him. What did that have to do with me? Every day, he reminded me how disappointing it was to have me. He bonded closer with my big brother, even though he's not related to him by blood. And oh boy, had he rubbed off on him. He's quite the chip off the old block.

My brother bossed me around just like my father did with my mother. There were even times when he'd raised his hand to hit me, but we're only two years apart, and I'm a fighter. I gave him one look, and he had to think about it. I think he's scared I might cast a spell on him or something.

That's why I dressed like this. Saw the girl coming out of the TV in Scary Movie and decided that if I could look similar to that, I might give some people nightmares. I'd toned it down since turning fourteen, though. I was scaring myself when looking in the mirror. Plus, the teachers were always sending me into the counselor's office, and he was a man. Ugh, no thanks.

Now, I looked more 'emo' or goth. I don't know, I just liked the aesthetic. Plus, it's more 'acceptable.' A lot less concerning than the Scary Movie girl. Still, it's enough to make my brother second guess touching me. It doesn't stop him from bossing me around, but at least it keeps me from being beaten to a pulp like my mother. He thinks he's so tough, always throwing his ego around. Much like that jerk, the unfunny comedian from earlier. I have to say Eric's different, but he might just be a great pretender.

The school bell rang, cutting into another stretch of silence between us.

"I should probably get going. Don't want to show up late to class on my first day." He ran toward the large transparent doors, shouting, "It was nice meeting you, Lily! One day, you're going to like me, I promise you!"

"I wouldn't bet on it," I grumbled beneath my breath.

Eric Thirteen Years Ago

"Hey, Lily! Wait up!" I yelled as soon as I spotted her familiar dark hair with a stalk of green sticking out from beneath her hoodie.

That stalk of green was the one thing about her that's reminiscent of a flower. She's not delicate, at least not from the outside looking in. She's more like the stalk of a rose bush. But I knew her better now; I knew it's just protection.

Christina, the richest girl at our high school, stopped talking about prom, and her glossed lips popped open in shock. Her friends all took an audible gasp as well. I'm not sure why. It's pretty obvious that Lily's my best friend. The only reason they even want to hang out with me is because I'm a 'jock.' With my military upbringing, structure, discipline, and exercise come naturally to me. So, I joined sports for the sense of community, working together toward a common goal, and it's something to do after school, since both my parents are deployed for six months.

Since I'm sixteen, I don't need a babysitter but it means I go home to an empty house to confront the anxiety over my parents' safety. Every now and then, my free-spirited aunt gets on a plane and visits for a few days a month, to check in on me, but her visits are random. Sometimes, she stays a few days, and sometimes, it's a couple of weeks, but I never know when she's coming.

I look forward to seeing her because she breaks up the mundane, but it also heightens my anxiety because there's no familiar structure. You'd think I'd be accustomed to it by now since she used to be the one to babysit me whenever our family was stationed in the US, until I was old enough to stay at home on my own, that is. But it still kicks my anxiety into full throttle.

While I like the spontaneous visits, trips to the beach, learning to surf, the easy way she makes friends with everyone, and her high bubbly energy, it's no longer constant. It's here for a moment. The house is filled with life whenever we're in it if we're not finding some outside activity to get up to. And in another moment, I come home to complete silence. Except for one hour at night, when my parents call to make sure I'm following the rules and routines before reassuring me that they'll be home soon.

Lily didn't stop walking. When I got closer, I heard the rock music pounding out from the headphones beneath her hoodie. This was the perfect opportunity for a prank. Sneaking up behind her, I slipped my hand in hers.

She spun around, wielding fists before I could fall into step with her. My eyes flew open, but I'm grinning as her look of disgust morphed into humorous annoyance. She punched my chest before slipping her hoodie off and removing her headphones.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" she breathed. "I was about to knock your teeth straight out of your head!" she scowled, but her eyes twinkled, and her cheeks flushed.

I grinned. "I don't doubt you could. Was wondering if you wanted to have lunch at the beach?"

It's common for us to go to the beach fifteen minutes away and eat sandwiches I made at home. That's our secluded spot, underneath some trees where we can let the loud waves drown out the sound of our voices as we open up to each other.

"Thought you ditched me for the cool kids today," she said, looking back at the lunch table where Christina and the other girls grimaced at us.

"Oh, so, you were keeping an eye on me, were you?" I teased.

I'm in a grade above hers, so we only saw each other before school, during lunchtime, after school, and if I made the effort to purposely bump into her between periods, we might have seen each other in the hallways.

We already spent too much time together. Within the past few years, before moving here, I had promised myself that I wouldn't form deep connections with anyone anymore, since I'd have to pack up and leave them behind again. Form superficial friendships because it gets lonely, 'live in the moment' as my aunt says, rise to the top of the food chain by joining sports to avoid being the 'awkward, out of place, new kid' over and over again, because people love jocks, take it for what it is, have fun, and leave. That's been my motto.

But it's been impossible to keep things superficial with Lily. When I first saw her, I recognized something in her. By the way she dressed and kept to herself, shutting down the mocking voices around her, I knew she'd been carrying some darkness. I admired the way she didn't care what anyone thought about her when I cared too much. She spoke to the need within me to stop trying to be so damn likable all the time, but it was all I had going for me. It stopped me from falling into a deep depression or becoming a walking anxiety bomb.

I wanted her to like me more than I'd wanted anyone else to like me, because I had a secret. I had a crush on her. I'd had a crush on her since I met her. At first, I thought it might be fun to flirt, maybe go out together a couple of times and keep things casual. But she wasn't the casual type. It was a relief when she said she was a lesbian. It closed off the possibility of anything happening between us, which meant I could focus my energy on winning her over as a friend.

As we grew closer, I noticed that she didn't flirt with or seem interested in any girl at the school and after questioning her about it, she admitted within one month that she'd lied. That was also a relief. I was conflicted.

It meant I had a shot, but it was a shot I knew I couldn't take. So, I've been keeping this secret, fighting the urge to 'accidentally bump into her' between periods or make up excuses not to spend every lunch break with her, especially whenever I'm feeling more vulnerable. But she's Lily. I miss her when we're apart for too long.

"Ha! Don't flatter yourself," she scoffs. "Well, if you want to stay in the good graces of the 'cool kids,' you probably shouldn't piss Christina off."

"Ah, she'll get over it," I say. "And if she doesn't, oh well. You won't abandon me, will you?" I ask.

"Aw, I don't know yet." She hooks her arm in mine and starts walking. Getting to this point had been huge for Lily. She wasn't a fan of physical touch; she'd bristle if I so much as brushed against her.

With her, I'm a winner. Her smile is the prize. Getting her to trust me was no easy feat. I hate the men in her life who have left her so broken.

"Ouch." I grip my chest, though I know I'm the one who'll end up abandoning her, and it hurts like hell to think about it. "Oh, wait for me by the car." I pull out of her hold. "I forgot the sandwiches," I say, using that moment as an excuse to put some distance between us.

"Ooh, what is it this time?" she asks.

"I made one chicken and two tunas." I

'm a protein guy, and we'd been eating too much peanut butter and jelly the past week. I could see how bored she was getting, so I thought I'd switch it up. She grimaced at the thought of tuna. I didn't know why. I loved tuna and mayo sandwiches. I grinned. "You want the chicken?"

"Yes, please." She beamed.

As I made sandwiches for us, I noticed she wouldn't bring lunch to school or buy any at the cafeteria. She'd make up excuses like she 'forgot her lunch' or 'forgot her money,' but I knew better. I had way too much food for one person anyway, I didn't feel good eating when she wasn't, so I'd offer to share mine until I brought her a separate sandwich. It's one of the ways I managed to win her trust and get her to like me. Food is the way to anyone's heart.

Back at my Toyota Corolla, I gave her the lunch bag and thermos before jumping in. The ocean breeze bit a little harder the closer we got. It's bearable, but despite her hoodie, she wrapped her arms around herself as we stepped out of the car. Our feet sank into the sand, and she tripped as I pulled her into my side for a hug. She must have felt the chill more than usual because she didn't push me away. She even laughed along with me when she almost fell.

Salt water sprinkled against our faces as we bit into our sandwiches. The sand became our seat. Gazing out at the choppy sea, the noise in my head wasn't so loud. She zoned out, losing herself for a moment. The brown of her eyes turned glossy.

"You okay?" I asked.

She sniffled and wiped the tear as soon as it left her eye.

"Is it your brother?" I rubbed her shoulder.

She turned to look at me, red rimming her lower lid. "Why couldn't he have been more like you?"

Okay, so she saw me as a brother? I didn't know how to feel about that. But I guessed it's safer than my alternative. Her sixteen-year-old brother Xander was beaten to death a few months ago after picking a fight with the wrong people.

She cleared her throat. "This is so stupid. I don't even know why I'm crying. I hated him." She took a deep breath. "What about you? How are your parents?"

It's time for me to tighten up. "They didn't call last night," I said. "But I'm sure they're all right."

"They're probably just busy," she reassured me.

"Yeah." My chest tightened. She's right though. They make an effort to call me every night, but sometimes, they don't even get a minute to spare. It's not the first time they've missed a call-in, but each time they do, I imagine the worst.

"Breathe." She helped by rubbing my back. "If anything were wrong, you'd get a call by now."

I pulled out my flip phone in a hurry to check if I had any missed calls. I didn't. That's a good sign. My breath found me again.

"Let'"Let's talk about something else," she suggested.

"Like what?" My fingers buzzed as I played with the lace on my shoe, trying to ground myself.

"Like what you and Christina were talking about?" She pretended to flip her hair over her shoulders.

"It's weird to see you act feminine." I grinned.

"What are you talking about? I'm a woman. I'm automatically feminine," she said.

Laughing, I teased her, "Settle down, you're not quite a woman yet. You're still a kid."

She gasped. "And what are you?"

I gave her a look as if to say, 'Come on, do you really have to ask?' Popping my guns out, I clarified, "I'm a man."

"Oh, sure you are." She deepened her voice, making me crack up. "You're only a year older than I am." She rolled her eyes.

My chest was a lot less tight. At least with Lily, I could attempt to forget for a while. Living in the moment was best when it's with her.

"Christina and I were talking about prom." I picked up a handful of sand and watched it pour through my fingers.

"Ugh. I bet she was." Lily grimaced.

"What's that face?" I asked.

"Prom. It's so ugh..." She shuddered.

"So, you wouldn't go?" My skin burned, and my pulse hammered with the sudden urge to ask her out.

She laughed aloud. "If I ever show up at prom, call the cops. It must be because someone held a gun to my head. Why? Are you going with Christina?"

"I didn't really want to go before. But now, I do," I admitted.

"Oh, are you rebelling against my disgust for prom?" she teased.

"Maybe." I shrugged. "But if I went, I wouldn't go with Christina." I looked into her eyes. Tell her, damn it. I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to her or me to admit how I felt. Pulling on the strings of her hoodie, I tightened it so that it covered her face and left her nose poking out. My hands were idle, and my thoughts were all scrambled.

"Hey!" she shouted, peeking at me from beneath her cocoon as she tried to grab me.

I dodged her, jumping to my feet and running away. She chased me, panting as the sand pulled at our feet. I let her catch up to me. She jumped on my back, ruffling my hair. We fell to the sand, laughing.

As a dark cloud passed over the bright sun, we looked up at the sky, lying on our backs next to each other.

"Who would you take to the prom?" She asks as our hands brush against each other. The reminder of how nice it was to hold it earlier tingled through me.

With an inhale, I reached for it before I could stop myself. "If I go to something as dumb as that, there's no one else I'd rather share it with than my best friend." I gripped her hand, pretending it's casual.

But as we turned to look at each other in silence, my beating heart drowned out the clapping ocean waves.

Lily Twelve Years Ago

My mood dropped as I exited Eric's car and walked to my front door. He didn't drive off. He knew the drill. If things were too wild when I went inside, I'd walk right back out. We'd go over to his place to hang out until I could sneak back in through my bedroom window in the middle of the night.

So far, so... 'suspicious.' There's no screaming or shouting. It's already late at night, so my father should be home already. If he's not yelling, he must be in a good mood. My mother has been attempting to sober up the past couple of weeks. I don't know if I'm allowed to hope, but things might be looking up.

Opening the door, I turned on the living room light, and my hopes were dashed in an instant. The house was a mess; there were broken lamps and figurines. A new hole was added to the wall. There's no sign of my mother. Hurrying up the stairs, I burst her bedroom door open to find her sitting in front of her mirror in a full face of makeup to hide the bruises and a heroin needle in her arm.

My eyes filled with tears. I knew the fall was coming. I told her to call the cops on him, but she's afraid he'll kill her if she does. She still even claims to love him. I don't understand it. He makes me sick. Rushing forward, my legs shook. I'm unsure what to do as she smiles at me in the mirror.

"Lily." Her body swayed with each word she spoke. "You don't have a twenty, do you?"

And where am I supposed to get twenty dollars from? Isn't that her responsibility? My asshole father sometimes leaves money for me to go to school, but I'd much rather starve than take it. Right on cue, the front door banged open, and his voice traveled up the stairs.

"Look at the fucking state of this place? Lazy-ass bitch is at home all day and won't even clean up? Where the hell is Lily? Damn it. Why ain't there no food in here?" He slammed the kitchen cupboards.

With fire at my feet, I bolted downstairs. My chest was swelling with heat, on the verge of bursting.

"You made the mess, you clean it up!" I yelled.

He turned around, eyes pinning me to the wall. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" he whispered.

I swallowed, shifting on my feet toward the door. "You heard me. And while you're at it, why don't you cook your own food?" I tried to keep my voice from trembling.

The air grew dense as he advanced toward me. My eyes shifted toward the door and back to him. Usually, I don't answer back. I avoid him and think about all the ways I'd kill him. But Mom was trying, and he fucked it up, again. Like he always does. And I saw red.

He also looked at the door and back at me.

"So you're telling me I should work my ass off all day while your mother gets high and does nothing all damn day, plus come home and cook my own damn food?!" he screamed. "You ungrateful little bitch! You wouldn't be able to even go to school if it weren't for me."

Yeah, great. Try to make me feel guilty for doing your job. Nice try. Try to paint Mom as the useless one when you beat the living shit out of her so much she can barely stand straight most days. Blame her for taking drugs to cope with the pain and growing so addicted that pain meds led to other drugs. Real self-aware.

"Now, you're going to get your ass in that kitchen and make me some fucking food. I'll drag you by the hair and force you if I have to," he threatened.

"Over my dead body," I responded, rushing toward the door. I yanked it open, and he yanked me back by the hair. My breath left my body as he threw me to the ground. Behind him, Eric's shadow loomed in the doorway.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, huh?" he challenged my father, puffing his chest up. I couldn't bear the idea of my life infecting him, turning him into anything like my father.

"Eric. Leave it. Go back in the car," I said.

My sperm donor looked between the both of us. His wild eyes danced in amusement. "Oh, is this your little boyfriend?" My father stepped to Eric, but he didn't back away. "Why don't you stay out of this, eh kid? Best you leave this bitch alone, anyway. She ain't good for nothing. Can't cook, can't clean. Sometimes you gotta knock em in line, teach em to be obedient, you know what I'm saying?" he said, as if seeking some sort of camaraderie or 'male bonding' moment.

I was' sick to my stomach at the thought of Eric accessing some disgusting male code deep inside him that allowed him to connect with him.

"You think that makes you a man, you worthless coward?" Eric threatened.

I jumped to my feet, needing to get between the two of them. "Eric, please. Leave it."

"Stay out of this, bitch. I'll deal with you later." My father shoved me to the floor again.

Eric balled his fists up and pressed his lips together. "Please, Eric. Don't." I shook my head.

He broke crazed eye contact with my dad and focused his eyes on me. They softened as soon as we looked at each other. His voice was heavy with emotion when he spoke. "Come with me, Lily."

It sounded like an order. I didn't take orders from men. At least, not any man and not any order. But this was one I'd gladly obey.

"Oh, she ain't goin nowhere." My father got in front of me.

"Yeah?" Eric stepped to him. My father's breathing grew heavy. His skin was red with fury.

"And what are you going to do to stop me?" Eric asked. "Give it a go." He opened his arms, and my father got ready to throw a punch. "I'm sure my sergeant father and lieutenant mother would be more than happy to beat you like the little bitch that you are," Eric continued.

My father hesitated, and Eric smiled.

"Yeah, that's right. They're in the Army, and I'll tell you something else," he whispered. "I'm no soft touch, myself."

For the first time in all my sixteen years of life, I watched as my father dropped his fist. As I stepped past him in the doorway, he gave me eyes that could kill, but he didn't make a move. Eric took my hand, and my heart warmed, doing somersaults in my chest. He was able to get me out there without throwing one punch. He amazed me every day.

"You okay?" he asked me, gripping my hand tighter with the emotion I knew he's trying to hold back.

I nodded, as my father attempted one last dig. "Leave with her, but I hope you know that's kidnapping."

Eric smiled and shook his head, turning around. "Oh yeah? Why don't you report it? I'm sure the cops would love to hear what I just witnessed." He walked off before turning around. "Unless you think you're tougher than the military, don't go near Lily again."

My heartbeat raced. I'd love to see my father's face if the cops showed up. Even better, the military. But my mother would also get in trouble for the drugs if the cops were called. A part of me thought she'd be better off in jail.

Still, they'd let them both out in a few days, anyway. When it came down to it, my mother was an adult. As much as it pained me to leave her there with him, I couldn't be responsible for her decisions. I'm so tired of being the one who has to look out for her.

Eric didn't let go of my hand the whole car ride back to his house. It reminded me of the moment when we lay together on the beach, holding hands, and I grew overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. It had frightened the hell out of me then. I'm not so frightened anymore.

"So, do you want anything to eat?" he asked as soon as we got to his place. He dropped his keys on the table and headed to the fridge. "I could order pizza." He shrugged, looking at me.

I shook my head. I couldn't eat anything now if I tried.

"Yeah." He closed the fridge door. "I'm not hungry either." He sat next to me around the dinner table. "Want to talk about it?" he asked. When I shook my head again, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. He took care of me like no one else did. The familiarity of his hug warmed me. "Well, you don't have to go back there tonight. You can sleep in my room, and I'll sleep in my parents' room." He smiled. "How do you feel about that?"

"I'd love that! Thank you." I smiled back before leaning in and planting a peck on his lips. The kiss was brief, and my blood pounded when I leaned back to look at him. He's red, I'm burning up. Both of our eyes were wide.

He cleared his throat, got up, and scratched his head. "I'll... um... go and make my bed. For you to sleep in, not me." He laughed awkwardly before disappearing.

One week later

I thought gentlemen only existed in movies. Eric was the embodiment of the word. Gentle, sweet, kind, and patient. And better than any boys or men I knew. That night, he kept his word. He slept in his parents' room, and I slept in his. It was the weekend, so the next day, he didn't make me feel awkward about what happened. He didn't even bring it up. We played video games and binged on junk food. He dropped me off at home later that night, hoping his threats were strong enough to keep me safe. They were.

For the past week, my father hasn't looked at me once. He had even toned it down with my mother as well. Guess who else hadn't looked at me. Eric. I hadn't seen him since Sunday. He hadn't shown up at school. When I tried to call him, there'd been no answer. He'd disappeared off the face of the earth. Like a ghost. A figment of my imagination.

At first, I thought he was avoiding me and that it was more awkward for him than he had let on. But awkward enough to miss a whole week of school? Something was wrong and whatever it was, I didn't want him to go through it alone. He could be sick or have received some bad news. Jumping on a bus, I showed up at his house. Banging on the door produced no response.

"Eric!" I called, rounding the house and blocking the glare with my hands as I peeked through the windows. The furniture was still there, but everything's locked up. I kept calling until his neighbor, an older lady, stepped out on her front porch.

"Hey there, honey," she said. "You're that kid, Eric's friend, aren't ya?"

Oh, thank goodness. Someone who might be able to help.

"Hi." I cleared my throat, mumbling my next words. "Yes, I am. You don't happen to know where he is, do you? He hasn't shown up to school all week."

"Oh, sweetie. Didn't he tell you? Family packed up in the middle of the night and just left," she said.

My body expanded and still objects bounced around before me. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean, sweetie, is they moved." She turned to go back inside, leaving me staring back at the house, wondering why he hadn't even said goodbye.

Eleven Years Ago

To know nothing but darkness is to adapt, become darkness itself. To stumble across light and be thrown back into the shadows is to chase and track down that light again. My chase led me to Marco. It led me to drugs.

Clap! The echo rang through my ear and set off an alarm in my brain. My teeth crashed down on top of each other. The side of my cheek stung from the impact.

The first day we met stands out in my mind. A few months ago, after high school, seeking something other than the hell I called home, I was working at a grocery when Marco stumbled in.

Before Eric, the sight of a man was repulsive to me. I couldn't muster up attraction when all I saw was the devil when I looked at them. After Eric, however, I had hope. I sought out what we shared, seeking the answer to my abandonment. I thought I found it in Marco. He was good looking, soft spoken (which I interpreted as non-threatening, my mistake), and he liked me. His persistence reminded me of Eric. He also made me laugh, like he did. The heavens had opened up, shining down on me once again, and this time, I wouldn't wait too long to seal the deal.

Everything about him that I fell for wasted away in two months after moving into his place on my seventeenth birthday. His true colors emerged: his drinking, his drugs, his verbal aggression, his possessiveness, and his physical aggression, until I was left wondering how on earth I ended up in the same position as my mother.

Taking drugs to cope with the pain, staying out late, afraid to come home, wondering which mood he'll be in when I do, wondering why I haven't just left and falling for him all over again when he apologizes and helps me take care of the bruises, are all the things I've seen my mother do.

My head whipped around to regard him with eyes on fire. Tears stung my eyes, and my belly rumbled with disgust for myself. As hard as it was to convince myself that I'm not my mother, I set out to prove it, balling my fists up and throwing punches. I had to survive a violent household; it was imperative to learn how to fight.

By the end of it, he's bleeding from the nose, both from my punches and the coke he sniffed earlier. My left eye was swollen shut, and my bottom lip was split. With tears streaming down my face, I locked myself in the bathroom, filling the tub up with water and settling my sore body inside its warmth. On the side of the dingy tub was my own line of coke. I needed it to hit harder than Marco did. It didn't. Leaning my head back on the tiled wall behind me, I remembered my first and last kiss shared with Eric.

I promised myself I wouldn't do this. It'd been a year; he had my number, and he hadn't contacted me. Making excuses for him, I decided that he might not have called because he's not doing well. My heart raced at the thought that something happened to him while I was holding grudges. I searched for him on social media to put my mind at ease. I just wanted to know he's okay.

My delusions shattered. He's more than okay. For the past year, the little shit had been living his life to the fullest, forgetting all about me. I looked at the photos of him and his friends, surfing and traveling. He linked a video, and I clicked on it to watch as he introduced his girlfriend to the world. They'd been dating just about as long as I'd been dating Marco. Six months.

I threw my phone across the tiny bathroom and watched it shatter as it dawned on me that Eric didn't care about me at all. He was just the great pretender. A better fake than Marco who couldn't pretend longer than two months. Eric continued his charade for two fucking years. The illusion broke apart, along with my phone. It's time I took his ass off that damn pedestal. The pedestal that made me believe in something that wasn't real.

This light I'd been chasing didn't exist. Unless I left, I'd be stuck in a never-ending loop, just like my mother. I better get out before it's too late. Like having a kid with him or something. Breathing fire, I exited the tub soaking wet and opened the bathroom door, which had a hole in it. I'd been asleep for too long, but my eyes were open now.

Marco was out. My guess was he's meeting with his dealer or something. I didn't care. I'd never had this much clarity as I threw my shit in a plastic bag before checking in at the Women's Center, suggested to me by my coworker. I didn't know what tomorrow's going to look like, but right now, it's clear to me that all men are trash, and I'll be happy if I never have to interact with another one again in my entire life.