Raise Me Up (Atonement #2)

Prologue

Liam

Eleven Years Old

I ’m half asleep, buried under a heavy knitted blanket, when boots thud up the stairs to my bedroom.

My stomach lurches on instinct. Jolting upright, I force my sluggish brain to run through the day. The house is spotless. Dinner is sitting on the stove, covered in foil. I tackled my dad’s laundry as soon as I got home from school.

Raking my fingers through my long hair, I tug hard at the roots. What did I forget? Where did I mess up?

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Dread tumbles around in my gut, and I bite down on a scream of frustration. I was so lost in a daze on my walk home from school that I forgot to pick up beer from my dad’s shady friend at the convenience store.

How could I let myself get so distracted? How could a few strummed chords turn into an hour of playing guitar with the new kid in music class after the bell rang?

This is why I can’t have friends. Not that my dad would let Hail come over anyway, and even if he said yes, I wouldn’t want to expose Hail to the hell I live in.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t want to live so badly because the effort of surviving is exhausting.

Footsteps pause outside my door. I catch the shadow of boots beneath it. The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth as I sink teeth into my cheek, weighing my options. Is it a hide under the blanket or a run to the bus stop kind of night?

My gaze flicks to the DART card on my nightstand that my mom left. Do I have any money left on it? I’m not even sure the buses are running this late.

As far as my mom goes…

Yeah, she’s done helping me. She’s been gone for three months. Up and vanished after I got suspended from school for fighting. I’ve started having nightmares that my dad murdered her and tossed her bones in the woods behind my school.

Ice sheets my body when the door handle rattles. “What the fuck did I tell you about locking this door, boy? You stupid like your mother?”

I clench the blanket in my hands. I may not be able to forgive my mom for leaving me, but I know she’s a lot smarter than him.

She never laid hands on me.

A fist bangs on the door, hard enough to make me wince in anticipation of pain. Leaping out of bed, my foot gets caught in the blanket, and I tumble to the floor, head and elbows first, with a sharp cry.

“You think I can’t hear you? Get your ass over here and unlock this damn door. You know you made a fucking mistake. You’re gonna pay for it.”

My heart slams against my ribcage, desperate to escape. I know it’s not possible to die from fear, but in times like these, I question what’s real.

This can’t be normal. This isn’t how things should be.

Scrambling over to a pile of dirty clothes near my closet, I yank on dark jeans and a black hoodie. Frantically, I search around for my boots.

Where the fuck did I leave them ?

The lock on my door gives out. I cringe as it slams against the wall and trembles from the force.

I don’t get to watch much TV, but I’ve seen enough to know my dad could star as the serial killer in a slasher movie.

His eyes are pools of midnight, vast and cold as a desert at night.

His giant body fills up the doorway, blue-collared shirt unbuttoned and sweaty black hair curled over his forehead.

Alarms blare in my head. Pain. Pain. Pain.

I think about calling the cops, but it wouldn’t matter. I’ll be dead before they get here. Even if they do make it in time, I doubt they’ll be able to pull him off me.

Chancing broken limbs, I leap out of my second-story window. Crickets fall silent as I land in the overgrown grass with a grunt. Rolling to my bare feet, I take off through the gap in the neighbor’s worn fence.

I fight back tears as I run. I don’t understand. Why does my dad keep me around? Why not dump me on someone else?

Or am I that unlovable?

Is that it? Is that the real reason I’m stuck here? No one else wants me? My mom clearly didn’t.

As I claw my way through a thick wall of hedges, the aggressive rumble of my dad’s muscle car fills the night. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m scared it’s going to break free from my chest.

My mom used to tell me that my dad wasn’t a happy person. Sometimes those bad feelings overflowed, and we just had to ride them out. She told me if we ever left him, he’d starve himself or drink until his organs shut down.

Those words haunt me every time I try to run away. I don’t want to be responsible for my dad’s death. But I don’t want him to hit me either .

Racing across yards, I see his rusted beige car blinking in and out of existence between houses and trees. He’s cussing and jabbing his finger in my direction.

I hate him. I hate how brittle he makes me feel. Like I’ve got paper bones. Like one strong gust of wind would crumple me.

I know I’m not going to outrun him, but I refuse to let him drag me back to hell tonight.

I need a better plan.

Pumping my arms and legs harder, I turn in the direction of the new kid’s house. I’d thrown the scrap of paper he’d given me in the trash at school, but I memorized his address. Almost like I knew I’d need him.

Will he be awake this late? Do I trust his kindness?

I don’t even care at this point. I’m so tired of being alone.

Climbing over the brick wall of a gated, wealthy neighborhood, I tumble into a freshly mowed yard. I do my best to stay away from cameras as I creep to the sidewalk.

A few streets in, the faint plucking of guitar strings reaches me.

Lured by the melody, I hide behind a parked car.

I peek around at two small figures in the dark sitting on the concrete steps off the side of a garage that could fit my entire house.

The fancy gold numbers on the brick exterior match those in my memory.

Overwhelming relief rushes through me. I run toward them so fast, I scrape my toes on the curb. As I hiss in pain, two similar faces lift at the same time to look at me. I stumble to a halt.

I didn’t know Hail had a twin.

Blinking back at them in shock, I compare their soft features. He’s got lighter blonde hair and amber eyes, where his sister’s eyes are a richer, honey brown like the bourbon my dad sometimes drinks when he has extra money and doesn’t feel like paying the electric bill .

“Liam,” Hail whispers. “What are you doing here so late?”

Bloody toes curling into the grass, I struggle to form words. I hadn’t thought this far into my plan. What do I tell him? That my dad’s chasing me in his car because I forgot to feed his stupid addiction?

What if he comes here and hurts the only person who has ever wanted to be my friend?

“Hey.” Hail rests his Ibanez against the house and hurries over to me, all traces of his earlier sunshiny mood gone. “Are you alright?”

My gaze darts to his sister, still sitting on the stairs. Am I scaring her? That’s the last thing I want to do.

“Sorry,” I mumble, tears burning my eyes.

I should be over this crying shit.

Hail wraps a hand around my wrist. He doesn’t give me a chance to freak out over his touch, quickly pulling me into the garage. His sister follows on silent feet.

A shadow of him.

Instantly, I hate the thought. I hate that she seems less present. Hate it because I know what it feels like to be invisible, too.

At least, until my dad loses his temper.

“Stas, can you take Liam upstairs? I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” Hail says.

I get stuck on the pronunciation of his sister’s name. An “ah” sound followed by a “z”. I repeat it in my head several times as Hail vanishes inside the house.

Nervously, I meet her gaze and get lost in her big brown eyes. She looks…soft. Her voice is even softer when she speaks. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

All I can do is nod. I don’t know why tonight is hitting me so hard .

Signaled along by Hail, I follow Stasi up the spiral staircase in their giant house.

They operate like a practiced team, making me wonder if it’s normal for them to sneak around at night.

I’ve always been a night owl. Late hours are when my dad passes out in his recliner, and I can pick up my guitar to practice music.

She motions me into a bright yellow bedroom. Curiosity mixes with adrenaline as I step inside, and she shuts the door.

It’s the first time I’ve been in another kid’s room. I imagined there’d be posters and sports medals on the walls. Some kind of display of who she is or what she likes. But there’s no trace of personality anywhere. Just a thick stack of textbooks on a plain white desk by the windows.

Stasi turns on the light in a connected bathroom, and Hail appears from the other side. He sets neatly folded clothes on the counter. “These should fit. I think we’re the same size.”

He doesn’t mean it as an insult, but his words poke at an open wound, anyway. I was held back twice in school, and I’m still too small for my age. Too bony and weak.

Hail slips away like a ghost again. I get the sense he doesn’t like to sit still.

“Do you want to rinse off?” Stasi asks, eyes dropping to my bloody, dirt-covered feet.

Worried she’ll get in trouble if I mess up the clean carpet, I give her another nod.

She leaves me in the middle of her bedroom to start up the shower. When I don’t follow, she comes back to get me, gently tugging on my baggy sleeve. “It’s okay.”

For some reason, those two words settle me. Or maybe it’s her sweet smile. I don’t think I’ve ever been around someone who didn’t make me feel like hiding. Whose touch didn’t make me want to cower .

She guides me into the bathroom. I’m not thinking clearly because I start to peel off my hoodie with her still in the room. Her eyes go wide as they fall to the yellow and purple bruises splattered like paint across my skin.

“Please,” I whisper, frantically shaking my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her little nose scrunches, but she eventually nods. “I’m a good listener, Liam.”

Instead of pushing me for more information, she closes me in the bathroom. Suddenly, I’m deflating. Pushing all the air from my body like I’ve been holding it for years.

I dare a glance at my reflection, frowning at the stringy, dark-haired, dark-eyed kid staring back at me. He doesn’t look like someone I’d want to be friends with.

Turning my body, I examine the bruises and scars across my back from steel-toed boots, beer bottles, and cigarette burns. Hot coffee when I burned breakfast one time.

Stripping out of the rest of my clothes, I step under the hot spray of water and stand there like a statue until the water runs clean. Then I dress in the clothes Hail left for me—a black band tee and a pair of sweats with a drawstring I have to tie extra tight.

I startle when I open the door and find the twins waiting for me on the edge of Stasi's bed. They both seem genuinely worried about me, and I don’t know what to do about it. Part of me wants to assure them I’m good now. No harm done this time.

The other part wants to break down and ask them to hide me in their rooms forever.

Stasi peeks at her brother.

“Rooftop,” he agrees. “I’ll grab the stuff. ”

Do they share thoughts like they share features?

Hail darts from the room, and I’m left to stand awkwardly in front of his sister. She hops to her feet and moves over to the window. Cracking it open, she climbs up onto the ledge.

“Hey—” I lurch toward her, terrified over the height of her window in comparison to mine.

Perfectly calm, she turns and holds out her hand to me. “I won’t let you fall.”

Swallowing in the face of those warm, confident eyes, I place my shaky hand in hers.

I don’t think I breathe again until we make it over the peak of the roof. We’re not super high up, but a fall from this height would do some damage, so I cling to her hand like I’m the one saving her life tonight, not the other way around.

We sit beside each other, hidden behind the tall trees in their backyard, gazing up at the endless night sky. It’s hard to make out any stars with the light pollution, but a few shine through, desperate to be seen.

I sneak a look at her. Is it weird to think she’s pretty when she looks like her brother? Is it weird to think he’s pretty, too? Do I only feel that way because they’re being nice to me?

My stomach does a flip when she meets my gaze. I’m not sure what this feeling is expanding inside me, but it feels like something big. It feels like something that could fill the hole in my chest.

Shuffling on the roof has me ripping my hand out of hers.

I turn my head in time to see Hail coming over the peak with a red plastic net of popsicles swinging from his hand.

He sits down beside me and rips a blue popsicle open with his teeth.

When he hands it to me, I end up sucking it down before he gets a red one open for his sister.

“Good, huh?” Hail grins, fetching me another one .

Can a broken soul be healed with sugary flavored ice? Or is this the magic of the Koval twins at work?

“Hey, Liam?”

“Hmm?” I glance over at Hail, a lime green popsicle still dangling from my mouth.

“You should sleep over tonight.”

My chest tightens at his serious expression. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. If I could, I’d stay in this bubble of peace with them forever. I’d never go home.

I peek at Stasi as she tips her popsicle wrapper above her head to suck out the remaining juice. It almost gets a laugh out of me. Almost.

“Yeah,” I answer quietly. “I’d like that.”