29. Trenches
Chapter twenty-nine
Trenches
NOAH
“You’re sick.” Delane spat at me.
I knew it.
“My god, you’re just so...ruined. Tainted.”
She spoke the truth.
“I don’t even want to get to know you, because I already do,” She scowled and continued to gaze upon me with disgust. “You’re a freak.”
I was on my knees. Pleading. I didn’t know why.
Her piercing eyes cut me. “You’re fucking disgusting.”
“Daddy’s little bitch...”
I shot awake, sputtering. Grasping the sides of the tub I hauled myself from the water, choking, gasping for air. My eyes darted from each side of the small bathroom, trying to remember how I got there, and why.
I wished I hadn’t.
I stared down into the dark cardinal waters beneath me, feeling the tired, sore ache that radiated through my entire body.
I was completely worn out. The inspiring ruby hue surrounding me made me wonder how much I had bled and how long my unprotected body had been hemorrhaging.
I shook off the thought quickly, realizing I didn’t really care, although I felt a twinge of disappointment that I hadn’t bled to death while I was sleeping.
Then I wouldn’t have had to wake up.
And face what I was.
A tool.
The sharp sound of the front door slamming shut made me jump, goosebumps prickling across my skin. I felt so bare and vulnerable, the once scalding water now cold and clammy, just like I was.
I was a sitting duck.
As I waited, I listened intently for the footsteps rising from the bottom of the staircase, making their way through the halls and toward my bathroom door. I sat completely still, desperately hoping it wasn’t who I thought it would be.
The door creaked open, and the heavy footsteps grew louder and closer. I held my breath, my heart racing in my chest.
“Noah?” Damian called softly from the other side, lightly tapping on the door. “Are you in here?”
I almost cried from relief, clutching my exposed and shivering form. “Yeah,” I answered quietly.
“Can I come in?”
My eyes shot to the bloody clothing on the floor, back to the sitting bloodbath that was engulfing me in the once white bowl.
“J-Just give me a minute,” I muttered, pressing the button to release the water and reaching for a towel that hung at the other side of the room.
I stepped out, wiping my face to rid it of the caked on blood that hung to my cheeks.
I threw the soiled clothes into the emptying tub, pulling the curtains back to cover the evidence.
The wet, red droplets that stuck to my arms and legs were hastily wiped away, and the now stained towel was thrown into the pile behind the curtain.
I snatched another fresh towel, wrapping it around my waist.
“Yeah, come in.” I called out, nearly tumbling to the floor from the pain. I held onto the side of the counter for support just as Damian was walking in.
“So, where have you been?” Damian spoke calmly, though it wasn’t hard for me to decipher the anger in his voice. I couldn’t blame him for being worried. If only he knew that the true danger had been waiting for my arrival home the entire time.
“Movies. With Alex and some other friends.” I was truthful. What was there to hide?
Except the fact that Daddy’s back to his old tricks.
Damian’s eyes fell to the toilet and widened imperceptibly. “Did you get sick?”
I cursed inwardly, knowing that I forgot something. I flushed the mess immediately, shrugging it off as nothing. “Just a little.”
“Do you need some medication? What’s wrong?” Damian stepped forward, looking more concerned than ever. He stopped abruptly, mid-stride.
“What happened to your eye?”
I sighed, feeling lightheaded. I didn’t want to make up stories. I just wanted to tell the truth—spill everything like I used to as a child and get it out in the open, hoping that someone could fix it. Or at least try to.
But the truth was, no one had ever really been able to help me. So, what was going to change this time around?
I was finally starting to give up all hope. After all, it was just my body.
“I was in a fight. At the movies.” It wasn’t all a total lie.
“With who?” Damian demanded, studying the gash.
“I don’t know who he was,” I breathed. The pain was starting to become too much. I really wanted to lay down. “Just some guy that smarted off to me and got punched. Then he hit me. Not a big deal.”
Damian narrowed his eyes. “You can’t be going around, picking fights, not answering your cell phone, and leaving without telling anyone.”
I didn’t respond. All of these things, I knew.
“You were with Silas again,” Damian denounced.
“I know.” There was no use lying. The phone call had been all of the proof Damian needed. Silas told on us both with his smart-ass attitude.
“Why? What makes him so special?”
He’s my monster. All mine.
“Nothing.”
He is that dizzy feeling during a buzz. He’s the cruelty I crave.
Damian looked exhausted. “Then stop messing around with him. He is a terrible influence on you. I’m fed up with it, Noah.”
So am I.
“I’m sorry, but can we talk about this later?” I questioned weakly, feeling my legs begin to quake. I strengthened my grip on the side of the sink counter. “I’m tired, and I still don’t feel well.”
Damian said nothing for a moment but then nodded. “Fine. Tomorrow. Get some sleep, Noah.”
I almost laughed. As if.
Before Damian walked out of the room, I asked one last thing.
“Where is David?”
Damian gave me a curious look. I swallowed uneasily, knowing that my older brother was using his keen observational skills to try and reveal the reason for my asking. I made an effort to keep my face straight.
“Gone. He is not due back from work for another two days.”
I nodded, turning away. “That’s right. I remember now.”
“Are you sure,” Damian began softly, his face concerned. He knew that there was something wrong and wanted to help. “That something isn’t bugging you, Noah?”
Tell him.
Don’t tell him.
Tell him.
“No, I’m sure.” I smiled weakly.
Damian granted me one last swift nod before leaving. “Then goodnight.”
I stood there in the silence I had been waiting for, feeling lonelier than ever.
I wanted nothing more than to curl up under Damian’s strong arm and just let my sadness out—to cry harder than I ever had.
But my body wouldn’t let me do it. I didn’t feel like I deserved the way my brother cared for me, and honestly, I didn’t expect any help or condolences.
Damian was busy, always on the go, chasing his own dreams. He didn’t need to be burdened with my petty disasters.
There was nothing he could do anyway. I had to continue reminding myself that I had been here before. I’d lived this pain before.
I was consumed with self-loathing, fully aware that it was getting me nowhere, but I didn’t care anymore. I wasn’t human.
I was a disgusting machine.
Built for sex. Designed for misery.
My legs were dragging heavy slabs of metal behind me, each step to the cabinet on the far side of the bathroom feeling like an uphill battle.
The numbness in my body had kicked in, but it wasn’t quite doing the trick.
Instead, I was left with little blotches of pain, some sharper and more intense than others.
I cringed with every step, even lifting my foot was a monumental task.
I grasped the bottle of sleeping pills in my palm, reading the warnings on the back as if they mattered.
I took four, ignoring the chemical threats about what could happen to my body.
Then, I reached into the tub and yanked the ruined clothes out, tossing them into the hamper outside of the bathroom door.
As I looked around my room, it dawned on me what was missing.
The wreckage.
I knew I had put up a fight, but where was the jostled furniture? Where was the blood that I was sure had leaked onto the floor, the wall even, from my wounds? It felt surreal, like I was watching myself enter the room from above. Not my body. Not where it happened.
I glanced around, searching for something that felt normal.
To my horror, everything felt off; even my bed was freshly made, the sheets neatly creased as if they hadn’t been disturbed in months.
The floors were spotless, and the familiar wall I had been shoved against looked pristine.
I blinked, my breath hitching in my throat, struggling to process the scene around me.
I was on the verge of a panic attack, fully aware that what happened was real. But a paranoid thought crept in—could it be that I had imagined it all?
And then I saw it.
My cell phone. On the table by my bed.
It was lit up in the darkness. I received a text message.
I snatched up quickly, pushing the button to read what was awaiting me.
1 message from David:
I took the liberty of telling the maid to clean up your mess. You should really be more careful. Oh, and a word from the wise. You could hurt yourself falling asleep in the tub like that.
I dropped the phone like it was on fire. David had been back, watching me. Just the thought sent a shiver down my spine as I sank onto my bed. David could have done anything, and here I was, feeling weak and powerless.
I laid back onto the unfamiliar feel of the new bedding, willing sleep to take over. I had no idea what tomorrow might bring, or if tomorrow would even arrive. I didn’t know what the little overdose would do to me, but I prayed that if death came for me, it would be quick.
Suffering.
That word alone could sum up my entire life.
As I felt my eyelids flutter shut, it seemed like suffering was the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.
“Why do you sound sick?” Alex asked me the next morning, his voice crawling through the phone.
“I don’t know. I’m going to school, though.”
“You are?”
“I can’t stand it here.”
There was a brief pause. “You know, Noah, my offer still remains if you need it.”
I knew what he meant. A place to be. A home away from here.
“No. My mother needs me here.”
“What’s wrong with you? You sound so...dead...”
I smirked. “Do I?”