Chapter 41
Kieran
ICEHAWKS BITCHES
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
sorry boys, family day is canceled today
IRVING
WHAT
why????
JOHNSON
thank fuck, I’m hungover as hell
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
I think everyone could do with a rest day
team dinner tomorrow night to make up for it though!
LEWIS
it’s not the same
IRVING
never will be
LEWIS
petition to bring back Sunday family day
IRVING
HERE HERE!
Valenti has left the group chat.
Irving has added Valenti to the group chat.
IRVING
that’s not very team spirit of you
ELLINGTON
I don’t think spirit and Valenti mesh well
sounds good about dinner tomorrow night instead
IRVING
what the fuck am I meant to do today now?
JOHNSON
get a life
LEWIS
I got you covered Irving
O’CONNOR
I’ll be patrolling the news stations today waiting for you two idiots to show up on my screen
KIERAN
send me photos when they do
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
KIERAN
you all good?
why is family day canceled?
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
we’re going shopping today, just you and me. tell Layla it’s for Halloween decorations
KIERAN
FUCK YEAH
I fucking love Halloween
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
we’re not actually Halloween shopping
KIERAN
I’m not coming then
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
Kieran…
KIERAN
Grayson
brOTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER
fine we will go Halloween shopping AFTER
KIERAN
FUCK YEAH LET’S GO
“Give me my fucking money, Carol!”
My mom’s screams ring through the apartment.
My eyes widen at hearing that man’s voice. Springing off my bed, I run into my closet, my heart pounding so loud I’m surprised I can still hear him screaming as I dive under the pile of clothes I’ve made.
He won’t be able to find me here.
He won’t be able to see me.
I just need to be very, very quiet.
I flinch as glass shatters somewhere in the apartment, then another and another.
It must be the beer bottles.
I was getting so hungry before I had poked my head out to see if I could leave and get something to eat but when I saw all the beer bottles and heard the giggles I knew I couldn’t yet.
“You stupid fucking whore!” he roars. “Where is it, Carol? Where is my money?”
“I-I used it.”
“Used it?” he sneers. “Used it?”
His voice is bellowing and no matter how hard I press my hands against my ears, I can’t shut them out.
My mom begins to cry, whimpers and sniffles until she sobs in pain.
“You know the drill. Strip, you fucking bitch.”
“No!”
“No one gets free handouts in life and your sorry ass certainly isn’t one of them. Fucking strip!”
My mom wails, and I think of going out there to…I don’t know, help her? I haven’t heard my mommy this scared before.
“No!” she screams and then there’s a loud thud.
“I said fucking strip! If you can’t give me my money then you’ll fucking pay this way you fucking whore.”
“Let the boy pay! Let him do it! Please!” Her strangled words make my eyes fill with tears. “Use Kieran as payment. He’s a good boy.” There’s such a heavy pause I stop breathing. “I know you like him.”
Black spots fill my eyes, my ears ringing as bile burns its way up my throat.
No, no, no.
I hate that man. I hate him. She knows that. She hears me cry and cleans me up afterward.
She knows how much I hate that man’s touches!
The closet door suddenly flings open and before I can let out a scream his hands are shooting into the clothes, wrapping around my arms.
“Come here, boy.”
“No!” I scream until my voice turns raw, but as I’m dragged out into the living room and thrown on the couch, as my eyes lock on my mother whimpering in the corner, rocking back and forth, her eyes big and black, I know that no amount of screaming will save me.
Flinging upwards in bed, my hand clutches my chest as my heart pounds furiously. That fucking memory hounds my dreams every goddamn night.
My back is lined with sweat, my hair slicked with it. I blink furiously around the room to prove to my mind that I’m not in that apartment, that I’m in my bed, in my home, and I’m safe.
I’m safe.
I’m safe.
I’m safe.
Emmy and Layla’s giggles downstairs float toward my bedroom, the sound calming my heart.
Flopping back in bed, I can’t help but grimace and throw myself off the mattress. The sheets are drenched; it looks more like I pissed myself rather than had night sweats.
Jesus, these fucking dreams are doing my head in.
I’ve always had nightmares, have always had memories from my childhood plague my dreams, but they were mostly of the matron and everything she inflicted upon me. I thought I kept these memories with my mother buried in a box, locked in the deep depths of my mind.
But after that night with Layla, they resurfaced. It’s not her fault, but the feelings of not being chosen, not being good enough, and not being loved are vengeful.
Allie, Carlton, Grayson, and Drew, as close to family as I’ll ever get, put Band-Aids on those wounds, and this situation with Layla has ripped them clean off.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this for, how much longer I can suffer, because it’s not just during sleep. Every little thing is beginning to remind me of that time, even during waking hours.
And I fucking hate it.
If I were ever honest with someone, if I ever opened up, they would tell me to go to therapy.
I’m no fool, I know I need it, but talking about it is fucking painful and traumatizing.
I’d have to process the memories and emotions, go through them one by one, and just the thought of doing that has me wanting to sprint into my bathroom and puke.
One day I’ll be strong enough to face the memories, but that time isn’t now.
I thought I had this under control, I thought I made my conscious mind forget but it seems whether I like it or not I’m being forced to deal with it.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I make a deal with myself—if the nightmares continue for another month…I’ll find someone to talk to about it, regardless of how I feel.
A shudder wracks my body.
What a horrible feeling knowing you’ll have to push yourself to talk about being forced to do something you didn’t want to do. Maybe that’s why I’m so adverse to therapy when it comes to these memories, it feels like another violation.
Picking up my phone, I see the bombardment of texts from Grayson reminding me that we’re going shopping today.
Groaning, I force myself to go through the motions, force my mind to come back to the present, and try to make myself excited, but I’m more nervous than anything that he’s going to see right through my bullshit like he always does.
Layla knew something was wrong, and I think she knew it went beyond our arrangement coming to an end. Her eyes, always so inquisitive and soft, so open and endearing, make me feel raw.
Make me feel as if I could lay my head in the crook of her neck, wrap my arms around her, and reveal everything going through my head, and that’s dangerous.
So incredibly fucking dangerous.
I’ve never told a soul about the “friends” my mom had.
Hence why I took one look at her in her adorable sweater, her glacial blue eyes, freckled covered face and kissed Emmy on the head, and hightailed it out of there.
Grayson was meant to pick me up, so he was a little surprised to find me eating a box of cereal on his couch watching Gilmore Girls when he came down his stairs. He didn’t comment on it, though.
For many, it’s a comfort show. For me, it’s what I never had—a loving mom. Sometimes when I was younger, I’d daydream that Lorelei was my mom.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Hmm?”
Grayson takes his seat belt off, and it’s only now that I realize we’re parked. How long have we been sitting here?
“I’ve given you your space, man, more than enough. Bella keeps saying I need to let you process your feelings, but this? Dude, you’re not yourself. I can’t even remember the last time you cracked a joke.”
Dropping my head against the headrest, I blow out a breath. “I know, okay? I know, I just—”
“Can’t talk about it,” he finishes for me, knowing what I was already going to say.
“Trust me, if I could I would. I just really fucking can’t.” Physically, I don’t think I’d ever be able to get the words out.
I was raped.
My mother handed me over to my rapist. Then she left me on the side of the road like a dog.
And no one ever loved me after that day.
Grayson falls silent for so long I turn my head to check what he’s doing.
I wish I hadn’t.
His brows are furrowed, concern etched across every line of his face, his eyes searching. I’m worried he will see too much.
“Please, I’ll tell you if I’m ever ready. This thing with Layla stirred up a lot for me, okay?”
“With your mom?” he asks gently.
I dip my chin, my confirmation making him blow out a heavy breath.
“I might sound like a dick for this and god knows I love Layla like a sister, but you’re my best friend, Kieran, and I can see it killing you to be around her and not be with her.” He rubs the nape of his neck. “Should you maybe find another nanny?”
“I can’t do that to Emmy.” Or to myself. “I’d rather have the relationship we do than never see her.”
Grayson nods as if he understands. “I respect your decision. God knows Bella didn’t make it easy for me those first few months, so when I say I get it, I do. And don’t hate me for asking, I just needed to put you first, okay?”
My lip twitches, trying to smile, but it never fully blooms. “You’re a good friend.”
“Apparently not good enough.” A darkness enters his gaze, his voice so thick with emotion my heart sinks like a rock in the ocean. “What did you mean the other week when you said you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me?”
“You’re really trying to make me cry today, aren’t you, Cap?”
“No, I just…did you…?”
“Want to die?” I say bluntly because I know he can’t say the words. “Yes. A lot when I was younger.” I turn to face the parking lot and not the devastation in my friend’s eyes, rip open my heart and whisper, “It was hard in the home growing up…so fucking hard.”