19. Chapter 19

19

Hope

Descending the stairs I feel the shift in air before I hear the hushed whispers coming out of the kitchen.

With blood gushing through my veins, I near the door and take a peek.

I turn cold at the sight in front of me.

Dad sits at the island. Mom serves him breakfast, smiling and staring at him like all is well. It isn't.

She looks tired in her blue scrubs, but there's a glow to her face that radiates further when Dad picks up her hand and places a kiss.

My dinner rises to my throat with such force that I'm seconds away from puking my guts out.

What is happening here?

Does she know he's not sober?

Is he sober?

Why is he even here?

Dread mixed with fear seeps into my soul like a poison and turns everything bitter.

Is this a dream?

Please let this be a dream.

My heart sinks in my chest. I don't think I'll be able to hold it inside any longer.

"You make the best coffee in the world." He pulls her down for a kiss.

My stomach rolls in disgust. Is this real?

I can't fathom why Mom is letting him touch her. The same hand that was going to land her six feet deep four months ago. Here she is acting like nothing's wrong.

I pinch myself and suppress the wince. No. It isn't a dream. This is very much real. As real as it gets.

My parents are together—as it appears so. The fact should make me happy. It doesn't. All I feel is anxiety in the pit of my belly that multiplies crazily.

Hundreds of questions circle my mind like planets around the orbit. With the addition of my thoughts, I find myself on the whim of toppling over the axis and falling into space.

When they pull away, she catches me watching them. A look of surprise washes over her face.

"Hope, you're awake," she says breathlessly.

"It's time for school."

"School, right," she mumbles.

I meet Dad's gaze and resist the shudder. Icy, sharp shivers glide down my spine like balls of spikes.

The longer he stares the more my body goes haywire. The knots in my gut tighten by ten folds making it almost painful, but I speak my mind. "What is he doing here?" I'm able to hide the quiver in my voice.

Mom shoots me a glare. "That's not how you talk to your father. Be respectful, Hope."

I don't back down. "I don't know any other way when he used to abuse you—"

"Good morning, Hope." Plastering a sick smile, he stands up and sucks every bit of air molecule out of the room.

My heart drops to the floor and my soul is on the pedestal of leaving my body.

I'm scared. So scared.

I take a deep breath—it doesn't help because my lungs hardly hold anything.

Striding in my direction he watches me with a strange glint in his eyes that further rolls the massive ball of anxiety inside me.

I back away from him to protect myself. He notices my move but chooses to ignore it.

Like a mask, he puts on a sorry face and says, "You're right. I don't deserve respect. After all, I'm a bad person."

Bad isn't even the word to describe him. He's way past it. So far away from the word that now it's a dot, especially after all the encounters that left me with bruises.

I open my mouth, but my throat is dry like a desert.

Taking my silence as a cue he proceeds, "I've made up my mind. I'm going to change. I'm going to prove to your mom I'm not a bad person. She's willing to give me a chance, right Maedrian?" He looks back at her and she cheers up.

"Of course. What happened was a mistake, now that you're back we can move on," she says enthusiastically.

What happened was a mistake.

You're back.

We can move on.

What is going on?

My brain is on the verge of exploding as I try to comprehend the situation.

"Exactly, sweet." Dad grins at Mom.

I put my hand on my stomach to calm down the wild creatures bombarding inside with their nervous energy.

"Hope, your dad is going to move back in and he's going to change. Aren't you happy?" Mom looks at me with an expected smile.

I just stare at her dumbfounded.

Never in my wildest dreams, I imagine her believing the lies he's spewing with such confidence.

I realize it now. Telling her about the encounters would mean nothing. He has her under his spell. She's trapped in whatever fantasies he's been feeding her. She won't believe me or do anything. After all, she loves him, and she wanted him back ever since that night despite what he did.

That realization digs a hole in my chest so deep I feel it in my soul.

"I am," I lie to her.

"I'm even looking for jobs." Dad chirps in.

Mom sends me a pointed side-eye. "See? He's trying."

"In no time I'll be on my feet, and you won't have to work so hard, sweet." He goes to her and pulls her into his arms. She leans into him as he plants kisses on the side of her neck and rubs her arms.

Clearing my throat I say, "I should leave."

"Hope—"

I'm already out of the door and running down the street. Once I'm a few blocks away I stop and lean against the wall of an alley.

Dad is back.

He'll be living with us.

The reality of the situation grazes and ruptures my entire breathing system. Air escapes my lungs like someone has punctured huge holes in the muscles.

My vision blurs. Objects and people dance in front of me like a hazy dream.

Holding onto the wall I inhale—it doesn't help.

He is back.

He is going to hurt you.

This time things will be worse.

He'll be onto you.

More fights and arguments.

He'll choke you.

He'll hit you.

He'll—

The voices in my head get louder, drowning my own little voice that was assuring me before. I can't hear it anymore. It's gone. Instead, I keep hearing words that make me scared.

I've solved complex equations in Math, drawn difficult structures in Organic Chemistry, and practiced lengthy derivations in Physics, but I can't think of a single thing to help me at this moment.

A trail of shivers travels down my backbone and the hairs on my back rise. I'm losing control because of my doubts and fears.

I'm not sure how to be okay.

A hand grips my wrist and tugs me. I try to slip out of the hold, but it tightens, not to the point of leaving a bruise, but enough to not let me get away.

"Hope, hey!" I hear a strong masculine voice that sounds familiar. I can't pinpoint it.

Where have I heard it before?

"Hope, it's me," he says as his thumbs wipe away my tears.

Heath. I see him now. His face, his handsome face, is right in front of me.

"What's fucking wrong?" he asks.

I can barely speak.

"Are you okay?" Heath asks with his cold face.

I clench my fingers, but I can't seem to stop them from shaking.

He releases my wrist and instead takes my hands in his. The warmth and size of them engulf my coldness and anxiety.

"It's okay. You're safe with me," he says.

"Are you sure?" I whisper.

"Yeah."

We stay like this for a few minutes until I'm feeling better.

I half expect him to walk away; he doesn't. He waits for me to calm down.

"You good?" His thumb draws circles on my wrist.

I give him a shaky nod—it's all that I can manage.

"Come with me." He opens the car door for me. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

I slowly nod. There's no way I'd be able to concentrate in school. With how fuzzy and unsettled I am, I'll only be experiencing breakdowns with an audience that would make fun of me. Becoming the headline news isn't on my to-do list today.

Heath drives in the opposite direction of the school. The speedometer increases with every passing second, but the car is under his control as he maneuvers the turns. I'm impressed by how great of a driver he is.

I lean back and let tears fall down my cheeks in an endless river.

My head is turned toward the window, but with the way Heath keeps glancing at me, I know he knows I'm crying. There's no point in hiding, still I can't bring myself to be vulnerable around him.

It's your second time already.

I feel embarrassed. Whenever he's near me all my walls start crumbling down. Whatever armor I wear to keep everything inside of me breaks.

He takes the route that leads to the forest. A strip of long road leads up to the hills with acres of tall trees on both sides. Branches create a canopy over us, shielding the sky and the sunlight that seeps in and out through the openings. No buildings or people are in sight, and I love it—being away from everything.

Fifteen minutes later, we're parked near a rocky hill cliff. The town lies beneath us with life and noise spilling out of it at eight in the morning.

I lean on the hood of his car as I observe everything. It's so beautiful up here. I've always wondered how it'd look to be on one of these hills and watch the town.

Drawing in a deep breath, the brisk forest air clears some of the haze in my head.

The silence stretches between us. He's beside me and looking ahead. It's comfortable to be here with him. So far he hasn't bombarded me with questions, he's giving me time to collect myself which is thoughtful of him.

When I look over, he's fumbling with an unlit cigarette. His fingers tip the stick up and down in a rhythm only he knows.

"You smoke?" I haven't seen him smoke. There was one time when his car reeked of the scent, but I wasn't sure that it was because of him.

"Sometimes," he says lowly.

"Why?" For all I know it's dangerous for health and tastes like trash—I read that online.

He glances at me. "It helps to clear my mind."

"It does?"

The side of his lips quirks up as if he finds my question comical. "You have no idea."

A cold breeze of air sweeps past us, cutting the tension. I wrap my arms around myself to gain some heat. "I've never skipped school before," I say to distract my body from feeling cold.

"I bet." Amusement is reflected in his words. "Such a good girl."

My cheeks redden. I'm sure he doesn't mean it in the context I usually read it in.

"Maybe I should go back."

He scoffs. "What's the point if you can't pay attention?"

"They'll call my parents."

"They won't."

"Why not?"

"I asked Marie to tell the office you're sick and won't come in today."

Surprise hits me hard. He did that for me.

"When…why…how?" I sputter nervously.

"Am I supposed to answer all those fucking questions?" He drawls out in a sarcastic tone.

"I'd like that."

He sighs, probably annoyed. "I texted her when you were crying. I did that because I assumed you would get a lecture at home. I don't have the answer to how. "

My mood lifts a little. I bite my lip to hide the smile. "You didn't have to do that but thank you."

Ignoring that he asks, "Are we going to talk about what happened back there?"

I concentrate on the beauty in front of me. The rich blue sky and the white clouds hanging on it. The view is serene and beautiful. Hundred times better than what I see from my window.

"You get panic attacks?" Heath presses.

I hug myself tighter to make myself small. "I don't know."

"You can talk," he says in a grumpy tone.

"To you?"

I feel his stare on me. For a minute I ignore it, hoping he'll look away, but he doesn't. The undivided attention makes me cave in. I turn and find his eyes on me, trying to peek at the secrets I've been hiding lately.

"To me," he says softly, but his expression stays hard.

"I don't know how to do that. We're not even friends—"

"Let's be friends."

My mouth opens and closes like a fish. "What?"

He leans back on his hands. "Marie considers you her best friend already. We'll be seeing each other a lot. It's only fair that we become friends."

"You-you want to be my friend?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Do I sense hesitation?"

"No! I'm just… shocked." I pause. "You don't seem like the person who befriends people."

"I don't, but it's you. "

"Me?"

He stares deeply at me. "Yes."

I never thought I'd be friends with the bad boy of the school—that's what everyone else says. The idea doesn't appall me, maybe because I've started to know him a little.

"I guess we can be."

Heath holds back a chuckle with a cough, but I see the hint of his smile.

Tilting his head he looks down at me. " You guess? How sweet."

I only smile.

Maybe being friends with him won't be such a bad idea. After all, there aren't any feelings involved, and there never will be. Yet, my heart races just thinking about him.