Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
THEO
Knocking on the door to one Professor Anderson’s home, I shuffle on my feet, waiting. An eight-pack of beers hangs from one hand, while the other holds snacks. I refuse to watch a game without snacks—that’s got to be some sacrilege or something.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him since everything went down with Raven and James at the gala.
It still has my head reeling a week later.
That was some scary shit for all of us but mainly those two.
I don’t even want to digest the encounter with Blake in the hallway and how right her words were…
as usual. I don’t know how she manages to hit me right where it hurts. I guess she still knows me after all.
Caleb finally answers the door wearing gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, his tattoos on display. My heart flutters a little at the sight. “Well, Professor. Don’t you look mighty fine,” I say with a wink, my own sweats and hoodie matching his. Sometimes you need comfort over style.
He chuckles and takes the beers from my outstretched hand. “I worry about you sometimes, man. You’re not normal.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I quip, taking off my shoes and following him into the kitchen.
I lean against the counter, watching as he places the beers into the fridge before getting me a cold one out. He pops the lid and hands it to me. I gulp down half of it in one go, feeling slightly more relaxed as the alcohol starts taking effect.
“You spoken to James?” Caleb asks, worried. “I keep messaging him, but he’s not replying.”
I run a hand through my hair, sighing. “Yeah, things got a bit crazy for a while. I think he’s just trying to get his head around everything that happened. Add in Raven, and he’s gone into overprotective mode.”
Caleb nods. “Understandable. If that was Lauren? Fuck, I wouldn’t cope.”
“Where is Lauren, anyway? I thought you said she’d be here?” I ask, glancing around. “I need some eye candy other than you.”
“She’s with Sydney. She’ll be back in a bit,” he replies, leaning against the counter. “Can you please keep the flirting to a minimum? I don’t want to have to punch you.” He raises an eyebrow, and I chuckle.
“Can’t promise anything, but if you give me enough attention, it might stop the urge,” I reply, giving him a wide, toothy smile.
Caleb rolls his eyes, his lips quirking. “Come on, I’ve got the living room how you like it.”
My heart threatens to burst in my chest. “You didn’t?” I begin jumping up and down on the balls of my feet. “Did you? Don’t mess with me here, man. I won’t be able to take it.”
Caleb laughs as he says, “Go and have a look. See if I’m telling the truth or not.”
I don’t wait; I race into his living room, my socks slipping on the hardwood floor like I’m Tom Cruise in Risky Business. I grab hold of the doorframe to stop myself from falling on my ass as I come to a stop and see that he was indeed telling the truth.
I squeal when I take in what one of my best friend has done. “PILLOW FORT!” I bellow, running and throwing myself into the cozy nest. “You built me a pillow fort.”
I glance around, my eyes wide and my heart full. My little softie has rearranged his living room—the sofa cushions are on the floor facing the TV, with the pre-game warm-up playing softly in the background. He’s draped a sheet over the top and added more pillows and blankets inside.
Caleb chuckles as he sits down next to me, his bones creaking as he does. “This wasn’t me. You can thank Lauren for this.”
Nestling under the blankets, I stretch my long body out, propping my head against the back of the sofa, then take my forgotten beer from Caleb’s hand.
“She really loves me,” I state, my heart swelling further at how thoughtful she is. Caleb was lucky to have found her.
After Lauren was attacked by a deranged bastard, I took her on as a client and made damn sure the guy who hurt her ended up behind bars.
We spent night after night going over her testimony—sorting through the facts, talking about her fears, and what she ultimately wanted from it all.
And over the past few months, she’s become someone I genuinely enjoy being around.
“She does,” he says gently. “We all do.”
I sigh. “Dad put you up to giving me a lecture, didn’t he?”
“We just want to make sure you’re okay, man. We know how hard it is for you. And in all honesty, we’re worried you’re slipping.” He gives me a knowing look, and I can’t hide it from him.
Glancing down at my lap, I say, “I’m not doing okay.” I heave out another sigh before chuckling. “God, that felt good to say. I’m trying to… figure out a way to navigate all of this with Blake being back, but I’m failing fucking miserably.”
Caleb clamps a hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing the best you can, Theo. I don’t know exactly what happened, but you know I’m always here if you want to talk.”
“I don’t think you’re ready for that story, my friend,” I reply humorlessly.
“Maybe it’s time to start letting it go, hmm? You can’t keep living your life this way. And anyway, what’s that saying? A problem shared is a problem halved?”
How can I admit something out loud that I can’t even tell my therapist about? To see the look of pity on someone’s face as I recount the night that nearly killed me? I glance up at Caleb, and I see nothing but pride and love shining from his eyes.
I straighten. If he has confidence in me, then I should have confidence in myself. He won’t let me fall. I know he won’t.
“Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I grumble, my heart pounding and my breathing coming out a little faster.
I manage to pull myself up, my knees shaking as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, spitting out the excess bile.
I stumble to my car, thoughts invading my mind—my mother's fists as she rained them down on me because she couldn’t cope.
My stepdad's breath on the back of my neck as he thrust himself into me over and over again, his hand clamped over my mouth to stop my screams of agony.
How I managed to get myself back to my apartment is still a mystery.
Shoving the door open, I race to the bathroom, expelling nothing but bile into the toilet.
The flashbacks keep getting worse and more intense.
This time, it's not my mother or my stepfather abusing me, it's Blake. She’s looking at me with eyes that sparkle as she gets railed. Eyes that scream, ‘I’m loving what he’s doing to me. You could never make me feel this way.’
I scrub at my face, hitting myself over and over again, but nothing works.
The pain in my chest sits heavy, like the weight of a thousand people is sitting on it.
My head throbs, the pressure blinding behind my eyes as I walk to the sink.
The tears fall freely, but I don’t bother wiping them away.
What’s the point? No one is going to save me.
They never do. No matter how many times I’ve screamed, “help me!” internally or externally, it’s always fallen on deaf ears—no one ever comes.
The razor on the shelf stares at me. This isn’t the first time I’ve hurt myself, but I thought I’d gotten a handle on it.
Thought I was doing much better. But in this moment, all I need is something to stop the pain that’s suffocating me.
I pick it up, the sharp edge glinting in the light, taunting me and telling me to do it.
So I do. I succumb to the voices shouting in my head that tell me I’m a piece of shit, and that I’m not good enough.
No matter how hard I try or how quiet I am or how much I want to be a good boy and please people, it will never be enough.
I scream, my head thrown back and my vocal cords stretching from the guttural cry that leaves me. I clutch my hair, pulling on the strands, but even the pain from that doesn’t touch me. I need something more. I have to have something more.
Clasping the belt buckle in my hand, I remove it, then unzip my pants and push them down my legs before running a hand under my nose.
Sitting on the floor, I pull the skin taut like I always do and glide the blade across my leg.
But it doesn’t do anything. The resulting sting feels like it's miles away, like it never happened.
So I try again, this time deeper and harder.
But the results are still unsatisfying. Still not getting me where I need them to be.
I need to stop feeling. I need to stop thinking. I just need it all to stop.
Anger sits heavily on my chest that I can’t even get this right. That I can’t get anything right. I slice harder again, shredding my leg in minor cuts, but it still doesn’t work. The voices are a cacophony of every person in my life, each one shouting louder than the last to be heard.
Something within me breaks, shattering me into a million pieces as I plunge the knife into my leg.
I scream out, and the pain brings me back to my senses.
I open my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them, only to see blood spurting out violently.
I watch, mesmerized at the sight, unable to tear my gaze away.
Not moving, just breathing slowly. Knowing what this means, I don’t even bother to cover my leg, and for a moment, I feel okay with that.
I feel at peace knowing she can’t hurt me anymore.
That none of them can. A smile forms on my lips as my vision starts going blurry.
Everything is going to be okay now, I think to myself as I succumb to the darkness.
A hand on my arm brings me back to the land of the living. I choke on a sob as I use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears that have fallen. “And there you have it,” I say, laughing derisively, “the ticket to my downfall.”
Not being able to bear the look on Caleb’s face, I keep my eyes firmly on the TV in front of me, sniffling.
“Theo,” I hear choked out on a sob.