Chapter 15 #2
“His anger finally boiled over and he was yelling at me, claiming I was cheating on him. He was at the point I knew I couldn’t calm him down or make him see reason.
He tried to grab for me on the bed and I thought he might hit me, so I tried to leave.
That always pissed him off and I knew it, but I also knew I couldn’t stay.
I dodged him and jumped off the bed so he’d have to run around it—I was hoping to get a head start.
I was going to run to my car in my underwear, because I didn’t know where the rest of my clothes were, and I didn’t care.
My keys were downstairs on the table, and that was all I needed.
I tried to be faster than him, but I was at the top of the stairs when he caught up.
He shoved me, told me to stop trying to leave.
But he shoved me hard enough while I was running that I pitched forward, and I fell down the stairs. ”
My teeth ground together and my fists balled at my sides, but he wasn’t finished.
“I couldn’t move at first because it hurt too bad.
I knew I was in bad shape. It hurt to breathe and my head was pounding, but I was so scared he was going to come down after me.
He didn’t, though, he just cursed at me and said something about it being my fault.
I heard him get back into bed. I finally managed to drag myself over to the couch, taking the tiniest breaths because it hurt so bad, and I tried to figure out what to do.
I knew I couldn’t make it to my car even though he was asleep.
I knew I had some broken ribs, but my phone was upstairs and I was pretty sure his was too.
I wanted to call Rory, but I couldn’t even attempt climbing the stairs.
I just stayed on the couch and tried to make myself keep breathing. ”
I looked over at the couch, unable to even look at Elijah.
My eyes were blurring with fury and I struggled to keep my breathing even.
I wanted to bring Brandon back to life so I could kill him myself.
I wanted his ghost to appear so I could send him straight to the afterlife.
My entire body was tense, but I didn’t say anything. Not yet.
“He slept off a lot of the alcohol. I’m not sure how long it was, probably a couple of hours, but it felt like days.
” I wanted to throw everything in the cabin around in a rage at the thought of Elijah sitting there with broken ribs for hours while that assshole slept upstairs.
I didn’t move, though. “He finally got up and looked over the railing. He looked confused. When he saw me sitting down here, though, he seemed to remember what had happened. I’m sure I looked pretty rough. ”
I grabbed his hand. I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to go back in time and fix it, change it all, but I couldn’t.
“He looked a little worried when I looked up at him. He came downstairs and walked over to the couch. I flinched away from him when he hovered above me, because I wasn’t sure if he was still pissed and I didn’t think I could handle any more right then.
But he told me he wasn’t going to hurt me and asked if I was okay.
I told him I was having trouble breathing, and he panicked a little bit.
He asked if I could walk to the car and I told him no.
He got some ice in a bag and put it on my head where I guess there was a welt.
I knew that my head hurt, and really, everything hurt, but my ribs were the only thing I was acutely aware of.
I told him I thought my ribs were broken.
He touched my side and I screamed. I couldn’t help it.
He started apologizing and told me he didn’t mean to push me down the stairs, he was just upset that I was trying to leave.
“We both spent the rest of the night on the couch. He got me some water and for some reason tried to ice my side, which made me scream again, and he worried over the bruises on my arms and legs that I couldn’t even feel at the time.
He fell asleep on the couch beside me after a while.
I had the TV on to try to distract myself, but all I could focus on was the pain.
I had to use the bathroom and made myself get up because I didn’t want him mad if I pissed on his couch.
I struggled the whole way there, and cried out a few times even though I tried to stop myself. ”
He pointed to the nearby bathroom door.
“Brandon was really freaking out when I came out. I must have woken him even though I tried to be quiet. He was all the way awake and sober by then. He said we needed to go to the hospital. We’d tell them I tripped and fell down the stairs.
The problem was, I didn’t know how I’d get to my car, because it was just too far.
He helped me get my pants on, and I was practically crying by the time he was done.
He put a jacket around my shoulders, because there was no way I was attempting a shirt, and he carried me to the car.
I thought I was going to die during that half-mile walk.
I wished I’d just pass out, but I didn’t.
I bit my lip so I didn’t yell, so it was bleeding too by the time we got there.
It probably would have hurt less to walk, but he drove me to the hospital and I told them I tripped halfway down the stairs that morning. ”
I took a breath. “Dammit, Elijah, I’m so sorry you went through that.” I wish I hadn’t been such a coward in high school, because maybe you’d have been with me instead.
He shrugged. “It’s all in the past. I healed from it, from him, both physically and mentally.
Once I got away, I realized how bad it had all been.
But at the time . . . …I just told myself it wasn’t, I guess.
” He looked down. “I did need to get that out. No one knew what really happened but me. And Brandon.” He paused and looked around.
“But being here . . . it sucks.” He stared at the blood again, then slowly walked further into the room without stepping on any of it.
He touched the coffee table, but jerked his hand back as soon as he did. “I don’t like this.”
I stepped forward. “What did you see?” I demanded, but when he turned to me he just looked sad.
“I didn’t see anything. I just felt it. I felt anger, then fear.
” He stepped around the blood on the floor and sat down in an old armchair that looked clean.
I could practically see his own memories flitting through his mind, but he shook his head as though shaking off the bad, and closed his eyes. “I’m trying,” he whispered.
As he sat there, I seemed to lose him for a moment.
He sat there like he’d fallen asleep, but I knew he was awake.
It reminded me of when he’d placed his palm on mine, except his eyes were closed.
He was there but not, and he didn’t respond to his name.
It was over a full minute later when his eyes snapped open and he stood up. “I want to leave.”
He walked around the blood again but I caught him before he reached the door. I held his arms gently and looked into his eyes, forcing him to look back. “I need you to tell me what you saw before we go.”
There were tears in his eyes as he said softly, “He was on the couch, watching TV. Someone knocked on the door but there was no one there, just like the other night at my house. Brandon wasn’t scared, though, he was pissed.
He went outside to look around, but he left his door open.
They came in while he wasn’t looking. They ambushed him when he came back inside.
There were at least two, but I think more.
They had ski masks on. I think they were guys, but I can’t be completely sure.
They stabbed him before he realized they were in here.
He tried to fight back. He hit one with a glass, but I don’t think he hurt them.
They just kept stabbing him, coming from different angles.
When he’d hit one, another would get him.
He fell there.” He pointed to the big blood stain on the floor.
“But they didn’t stop. Even after he stopped fighting back, they kept going.
They left him there and one stepped on his phone so he couldn’t attempt to call for help.
He was still alive, but barely. They just left him to die. ”
His voice caught and I pulled him into a hug.
I knew he cared about Brandon in some sad way, even though he knew he was better off without him.
Elijah had never wanted him dead. He would never wish death on anyone, and he felt for sober Brandon who cared for him, even though the same Brandon would turn on him so often and hurt him.
I’d seen enough similar cases to know how it would have turned out if Elijah had stayed with him, and it would have been a funeral that wasn’t Brandon’s.
I rubbed Elijah’s back as I embraced him. “You loved him?” I asked him softly. Not because I’d judge him for it, and not because I was jealous. I just needed to know how wounded he was right now.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I did at one point. I think he felt the same but he never would have said it, because he never even admitted he was gay.”
“When did you finally leave?” I asked him, because I had no idea how it ended, what had been the final straw.