Chapter 8
Skyla
T urning off my office computer, I move over to collect my things.
Slipping a purple hoodie that carries the gym name over my head, I collect my purse and sling the strap over my body.
My phone is tucked into the front pocket and my keys are in hand, in case I need them to fend off an attacker.
Milo meets me at the front door and we lock up together.
“You going to find a hook-up?” I question him with a grin.
He has been working at the gym for a few months now, and is a great addition; plus, he brings in the ladies who love spending their money to see him work out.
“Always.” He winks.
“You are such a man-slut, Milo.” I giggle.
“Damn straight. Have you seen me? I am hot, babe. The guys love touching this.” He gestures up and down his body with his hands.
“Get out of here, you slut.” I step to my car and unlock it, Milo making sure that I am okay before he drives off.
Before I can climb into my car, I hear a sound from the side of the building. I know that I should not check it out on my own, but fuck it. Looking up and down the street to make sure that no one will jump me from behind, I move closer.
As I step forward more, I hear a sniffle, like a crying sound.
“Who is there? I won’t hurt you.” I soften my voice as I inch closer.
“Skyla?” comes a familiar voice and it breaks my heart.
“Aston, honey. Are you okay?”
My heart stops in my chest as he steps out from between the two large cans. I grip the strap of my purse tighter as I take in his face. He has a split lip, with a blood trail down his chin, and his eye is almost swollen shut.
“Oh, baby,” I cry, stepping closer and gently pulling him to me. “He did this? Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“My side hurts.” He sniffles.
No doubt he will have some awful bruising on his ribs.
“Why did he do this?” I crouch down so we are eye level.
“He was drunk, and they ran out. My mom had no more money to buy more beer. He got angry, then hit her. I stepped in to stop him and he started hitting me.” Tears flow down his cheeks and I cry with him, no longer able to hold back.
“You are coming home with me, and I am going to make some phone calls, okay?” His body tenses up.
“They will put me in foster care; I have heard kids like me get killed there.” He shakes in fear, making my heart crack open again.
With my hands on his shoulders, I try to soothe him the best I can because I know for a fact that what he is saying is true. Believe me, I saw it myself over the years before I escaped.
“We can go to my house and I will keep you safe, Aston, honey. Come on, I will explain once we get home.”
He nods after a few seconds of looking me in the eyes, seeing whether he can truly trust me. I like that he is still cautious, and not letting his guard down. For years to come, Aston will always have trust issues, and he will always need self-preservation for him to survive in life.
Eva, Rocky, Milo, and I know this all too well, but we will help Aston in every way we can.
I load him into my car, sitting him in the back seat and strapping him in. Thankfully, I only live twenty minutes from my gym, so we arrive at home in no time.
We climb out, both shivering from the sudden cold after being in a warm car. Salem in fall is beautiful but it can be damned cold. We quickly rush to the front door, and I unlock it, making sure that my car locks also, because more often than not, I forget to do that.
“Okay, make yourself comfortable. I am going to find something warmer for you to get changed into, okay? Would you like a shower?” He shakes his head, his sneakers already removed, and he sits on my sofa, his butt on the edge, and his head almost buried between his shoulders, like he is afraid to relax.
“Aston, baby.” He looks at me, tears filling his eyes, and I move to him. “You can relax here. I know that this is scary and you do not know me well enough, but I will never hurt you, okay?”
He slowly nods.
I kiss the top of his head, and he sits back, while I stand and go upstairs to my room to find something that he can change into because his clothes are damp, and he has some blood on his sweatshirt.
Finding a pair of sweats that belong to Eva, who is much shorter than me, and an old college T-shirt that I am sure will fit him okay for now, I make sure to make some noise as I enter the living room, so he knows I am coming.
I have been in his shoes, living with the fear of when the next slap and punch will come. Lying in bed at night in one of the foster homes that I had to stay in, listening to the footsteps or the creaks of the flooring, holding my breath to see if I was that night’s victim.
One home I stayed in for almost six months before the social worker caught on to what was happening and removed me. The couple had a son the same age as me and he would do the sly kick or pinch.
Then one night, I fought back, and the father of the family hit me so hard he knocked me out. They threatened to tell the social workers that I was stealing and I would be placed back into a group home, so I kept quiet.
The next time he touched me was his last. I was washing dishes, and he came in and trapped me against the sink, slipped his hand under my top and grabbed my breast. I flipped the fuck out so he went into full animal mode and told me that I owed him my body.
He tried to rape me, but I hit him with a saucepan and ran. I phoned the police, who called the social worker and thank fuck, they all believed me.
“Skyla?” My name being called pulls me back from my thoughts.
“Shit, sorry. Here, you can change into these.”
“Are you okay?” his soft voice asks me.
Smiling at him to reassure him, I nod. “I am good, just thinking of my childhood.”
He frowns, staring at me. “You got hurt, too?”
“I did, but I got out and I met my friends. You will get through this, Aston. I promise you that.” I know that I should not promise him, but fuck, this kid needs a lucky break, and I will help him in any way.
He takes the clothes from me, and I direct him to the ground floor bathroom to change.
After working with kids his age for some years now, I kind of know what they like to eat, so I walk into my kitchen before looking into the refrigerator and cupboards to see what I can make him.
Before I can pull together a meal, Aston steps into the kitchen and I see that he has cleaned the blood from his face.
“You hungry?”
“Yeah.” He slowly sits at the table.
“What do you like? If I do not have it here, I can order in.” His eyes widen at the thought of me ordering takeout.
He looks down sheepishly, his fingers knotted together in his lap. I let him have a moment, and pull out a can of soda for him and one for me, before joining him at the table.
He looks up at me, and I hate seeing the uncertainty there.
“I went to a sleepover at a friend’s house for his birthday. His mom was really nice and she ordered us pizza.” I smile at his words.
“Okay, we can order some pizza. What kind of toppings do you want? Your choice.”
He gives me a smile and it melts my heart.
“Pepperoni and lots of cheese.”
“Done.” I place the order and we sit and talk while waiting for it to arrive.
When he goes to the restroom, I send a text to my people, letting them know what has happened tonight. Clark offers to come here to bond with him, man-to-man, and I love him for that but tell him to hold off.
I also send a text to a friend of mine who happens to be a cop, letting him know that we need to meet up tomorrow so I can fill him in on what has happened.
Right after the pizza arrives, I get the sense that we are not alone. My skin prickles and my nipples pebble from time to time, but I keep my focus on Aston.
We chill in front of the TV, watching a movie.
Hearing Aston laugh and giggle makes my heart happy, until I tell him it is time for bed, as he has school tomorrow.
He told me that his mom or stepfather never get him ready for school, he does it all on his own.
There are times when he doesn’t even see them for days.
“You can sleep easy tonight, honey. No one will touch you here, okay?”
He nods at me, his eyes drooping, his tiredness showing. I can only imagine how many nights this boy goes to bed in fear of being attacked. Abusers can be so unpredictable, but they like the idea of their victim living in fear of them. It gives them power.
“I wish you were my mom, Sky. You treat me better than my own mother, who couldn’t care less if I eat or not. She does not care if I go to school, but I go so I can learn then get away from them, plus, I can eat at school.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from sobbing in front of this strong, clever child. He may only be eleven but he is way older in his head. No child should ever have to grow up quicker than others. A child’s job is to be carefree and full of life, not living in fear of when they will eat next.
“Sleep. No one is coming in here to hurt you. They have to get through me first, and if you hadn’t noticed, I am kind of a badass.” I wink at him, making him laugh softly.
I swear I hear a soft low chuckle close to the bedroom door, but I force my body not to react, keeping my gaze on Aston. Brushing his dark hair back from his forehead, I watch him as he falls asleep in my queen-size bed, snuggled under the thick blankets.
Kissing his head, I slowly step away from the bed, leaving the door open so I can hear him if he needs me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention when I step into my living room, but I see nothing out of place, so I quickly lock up the house.
Then, I throw away the empty pizza box and paper plates. The sense that I am being watched washes over me, so I step over to the window, checking to see if anyone is outside my house, but I see no one.
My gaze moves around the room, but I see nothing.
Collecting myself a drink and a snack, I go back upstairs, checking on a sleeping Aston before I slip into my guest room, again keeping the door open a little so I can hear him if he needs me.
Stripping out of my clothes, my body reacts, and I know why my body is reacting. Removing my underwear, I feel warmth at my back, but no contact is made. The intense feeling of warmth moves along my arms, stopping at my fingers.
My body buzzes with arousal, my nipples hard, and my core hot and needy.
Slipping into a set of PJs that were a gift from Eva, ones that are covered in pandas and hearts, I slide into bed, pulling the covers up over my lap.
I read for a few hours to help decompress from the day.
When I decide I am tired enough, feeling settled that I have heard nothing from Aston, I snuggle down and pull the covers to my chin.
A slight breeze hits my forehead as I drift off to sleep, and I am too tired to react, but I feel the ache in my heart.