Chapter 15: Briar

brIAR

The magical space between sleep and wakefulness is my favorite place. I'm too awake to have nightmares but too asleep to remember the shitshow that's my life. Lingering in semiconsciousness for as long as possible, I finally blink open my eyes when the sunlight becomes too bright to ignore.

Wait. Sunlight?

Oh shit.

My alarm must not have gone off. I'm always up before sunrise to get ready and to class on time.

I jackknife into a sitting position in alarm… or I try to. A searing pain in my side causes me to abandon my efforts and flop back into the bed. At the pain, the night before comes hurtling back to me.

Looking down, I see my entire left side is covered in dried blood. From the band of my sports bra to the waistband of my once gray joggers, I'm painted in flaking rust-colored blood. I must have lost a lot of blood with how saturated the top of my sweatpants are.

The blood is going to be a time and a half to get out of my clothes, if it even comes out. There's probably something wrong with me that my first thought at realizing I'm covered in blood is how I'll clean my clothes. Oh well. I'll just add it to the other million and one reasons I'm fucked-up.

Glancing back down at my side, I see… hot pink thread? Christ. I must have been thinking of Rory when I stitched myself up last night. That's the only reason I would have chosen pink instead of something sensible like black or badass like blue.

Turning my head to the clock on my nightstand, I see that it's already eight o'clock. I guess I'm missing my first class.

Sorry, Xander.

I feel like I got hit by a stampede of semitrucks. One of them ran me over. Then the other ten followed suit just for good measure. I'm not really in any shape to go to classes at all today. I should probably email the Grimms about my absence, but I'm all out of fucks to give today. I can talk to them tomorrow about it. They probably won't even notice I'm gone.

My rumbling stomach reminds me that I need fuel to power the ungodly amount of healing my body's trying to do. First, I need to clean the blood off me. Rolling over as gently as I can, I slowly push into a sitting position. I swing my legs off the bed before standing up cautiously.

My broken ribs sharply protest any movement, including every time I take a breath. My knees are already feeling better than last night, so that's good news at least. Shuffling over to my bathroom, I lean against the doorframe when I reach it. I'm already out of breath just from walking ten feet.

Once I catch my breath, I hobble to the vanity. Pulling out a fluffy gray washcloth, I wet it in warm water and gingerly clean my side with gentle strokes, pausing to rinse the cloth twice. After a few minutes, I get all the blood off, but my side doesn't look much better. My entire torso is a mess of black, blue, and purple bruises. I notice that my lip's also swollen, and I'm sporting a fading shiner. Looking at it doesn't make me feel any better. I turn away from the mirror and head to the toilet.

After finishing up in the bathroom, I head back out into my room. Spotting my tattered black backpack by the door, I remember that my phone died last night.

When I reach my backpack, I dig around for my phone so I can plug it in. My fingers brush against the soft cotton of Malachi's shirt. Being enveloped by his scent sounds like heaven right now. After a brief internal debate, I carefully take off my stained sports bra and then slip on his shirt. Almost instantly, I feel better being surrounded by his smoky scent.

Returning to my original task, I finally find my phone. Once it's plugged in, I leave my room in search of food. Usually, the risk of bumping into Patrick would be enough to keep me in my room, but I need food. If he wants to finish the job, then he can be my guest. Otherwise, I'm getting my damn sandwiches.

The trek to the gaudy kitchen is uneventful. Patrick's kitchen is over the top, like everything else in this house. Restaurant-quality appliances, Carrara marble counters, and fourteen karat gold hardware dominate the space.

By the silence shrouding the house, I don't think anyone else is here. I'm able to make my three overflowing sandwiches in peace. Stuffing my bounty onto a single plate, I carefully carry it back to my room. I scarf down the three massive turkey, beef, and cheese sandwiches in record time.

I set the plate on my desk to take down later. Pushing the joggers down my legs, I slowly climb back into bed, under the covers this time.

My phone blinks on as I'm preparing to go to sleep. Reaching over, I pick it up to make sure there's nothing pressing before I pass out. Looking at the screen, I see fourteen missed calls and thirty unread texts from Ava.

Shit. I was supposed to call her last night.

I type out a quick message, so Ava doesn't worry.

Sorry I didn't call last night, Bun Bun! I got caught up at a friend's house. Love you.

Tossing my phone aside, I start drifting off to sleep. My phone vibrates, pulling me out of the start of a dream. I open my tired eyes and glare at the annoying device. Picking it up, I see it's Ava. I answer it, wondering why she's calling instead of texting. "Hi, Bun Bun. Sorry about last night," I say in as normal a tone as I can.

I hear only hysterical sobbing and instantly go on high alert. "Aves, what's wrong?" When I get no response other than her hiccupping cries, I try again. "Honey, can you please calm down for a second to tell me what's wrong?"

I still hear nothing other than her heartrending sobs. "Ava, sweetie, I don't know what's wrong, but I'm going to take one of Patrick's cars and come up to your school. Whatever it is, I'll fix it for you, Bun Bun. I promise." Whoever hurt her has a slow, painful death to look forward to. I struggle to sit up. Before leaving, I need to get dressed, scrounge up some cash around the house for gas money, and boost one of Patrick's least-favorite cars.

While I'm making plans, I hear her crying quiet. "Rosie!" Ava wails.

"Yes, honey, I'm right here. Ava, please tell me what's going on," I plead with her.

"I… thought… he… killed you," she tells me haltingly between hiccups.

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" Why would she think anyone hurt me? I've kept what her dad does to me a secret—at least I thought I had.

"I know what my dad does to you," she whispers in a hoarse voice. "I thought he had finally killed you when you didn't call."

"Well fuck," I reply, too stunned to say anything else.

Ava lets out a watery laugh. "You can say that again, Rosie."

Collapsing back on the bed now that I know there's no threat to Ava, I try to scrub a hand over my face. The movement pulls at my side, sending a bright flare of pain zinging through me. I'm able to bite back my groan so I don't worry her further. "How long have you known, Bun Bun?" I ask, hoping it's only a recent thing. It kills me to think she's been worrying about me. So much for keeping her out of it.

"A few years, I guess. I thought now that I'm at boarding school it would be better for you. It's only getting worse, isn't it?"

It is, but I'm not going to tell her that. Instead, I ask, "Why would you think leaving would change anything?"

"He beats you when I mess up. Dad doesn't know when I mess up at boarding school, so you can't get in trouble anymore." Her voice shakes, and she sounds on the verge of tears again.

"Oh, honey, none of this is your fault," I tell her, my tone brokering no argument. "Your dad lays into me when he has a bad day or drinks too much. It has absolutely nothing to do with you, okay?"

Jesus. I've been a horrible sister. I can't believe Ava's known about this for years and thought she'd caused it.

"It's not my fault?" Her voice has a hopeful hitch in it.

"Nope, Bun Bun, it's not even remotely your fault." It's no one's fault other than Patrick's. No kid deserves to be beaten or abused in any way by their parental figure.

"Why am I at boarding school then?" Ava questions, voice tinged with confusion.

"To keep you safe, Aves," I say gently.

"Oh, Rosie…." Ava trails off with a sigh. "You avoided my question earlier. It's getting worse. You haven't passed out from it before."

Christ. I was hoping she'd buy that I was at a friend's house. Since she already knows, there's no point in keeping this from her. "I have, sweetie. Remember those mornings you had to wake me up for school?"

"Yeah."

"I hadn't forgotten my alarm. I was passed out and too injured to wake up to it. You just didn't know." For the past seven years, I've been in charge of taking care of Ava. I'd wake her up, get her to and from school, make sure she does her homework, and cook meals for her.

A few mornings in the last couple of years, Ava's had to wake me up after particularly bad beatings. I always played it off as forgetting to set my alarm. She loves to tease me about how forgetful I am. It feels like I'm stealing a bit of her innocence letting her know what actually went on.

"So, it's not getting worse? You're okay?" Ava's voice is full of hope. It breaks my heart. There isn't any hope for me, at least not anymore.

"No, it's not. I'm right as rain, Bun Bun," I lie to her, hating myself a little, while at the same time hoping she believes me. Patrick's beatings have gotten more violent in the last year. I'm worried he's going to kill me someday soon when he goes too far.

I have contingency plans in place to take care of Ava. Providing for her is all that matters. My dreams of leaving this town alive have all but disappeared. I've made my peace with it, as much as any twenty-year-old can come to terms with dying. I just hope it doesn't crush Ava when I'm gone. She has to be okay. Otherwise, all of this is for nothing.

Looking at the clock, I realize it's way past time for her classes to start. "Wait, shouldn't you be in class?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't go to class when I couldn't stop crying." Poor Ava. I feel like an absolutely awful person for not calling her last night.

"I am so sorry I worried you, honey. Do you feel up to going now?" I wouldn't blame her if she wants to play hooky. That seems a bit hypocritical when that's what I'm doing.

"I guess," she sulks. My lips curve up slightly, glad to see the normal Ava peeking through.

"Then get to class, Aves. I'm going to try to get some sleep, but I'll have my phone volume on high. Call me if you need anything, Bun Bun, okay?"

"Okay, I will. I love you, Rosie."

"Love you too, Ava." I instantly miss her as soon as I end the call. My chest aches, wanting to see her more than anything. If I were in any shape to drive, I'd take one of Patrick's cars to go visit her.

This is why I don't care about people. Loving someone feels like a giant bruise that life's constantly poking. Caring about Ava is about all the kick to my emotional balls I can handle. I guess it isn't true anymore that Ava's the only person I care about. Somehow, Rory, Ronan, and even the Grimm brothers have wormed their way in.

I'll have a freak out about three of my professors being on that list later, when I don't feel like death warmed over. Closing my eyes, I easily fall into what I hope is a dreamless sleep.

It's dark when I wake up next. All the pain comes roaring back, causing me to let out a pained hiss. Spying the clock out of the corner of my eye, I see it's 7:30 p.m. If I'm still in this much pain after almost twenty-four hours, it's going to take a while for all the damage to heal.

Awesome.

I pat around on the bed until my fingers bump into my phone. Checking it, I don't see any more messages from Ava, which is a relief. I tap out a quick text to let her know I'm still alive. Then, I look at my other messages, surprised to see one from Rory and Ronan each.

Rory

Hey girl! Hope ur feeling okay! We missed u in class 2day. Lmk if u need anything chickee!

Ronan

Hi Briar. Rory and I haven't seen you today, and we're worried. Please let us know you're okay.

A strange warmth bubbles behind my breastbone at their concern. I didn't think anyone would notice I was gone, let alone worry about it. Having people who care about me is terrifying and… nice at the same time. I know I should distance myself from Ronan and Rory after what Patrick said, but I've been alone for so long. I can't make myself give up their friendship just yet.

Promising myself I'll push them away soon, I send the same text to both of them.

Hey! Sorry I wasn't in class today. I came down with a bug. I'll be back in class Wed. Thanks for checking in.

I clear my other notifications before checking my school email. To my shock, I have a separate email from each of the Grimm brothers. Sebastian's and Xander's emails are pretty standard, letting me know I need to get notes from someone. Malachi's email, in contrast, makes me groan.

To: Briar Wylder

From: Malachi Grimm

Subject: Unexcused absences

Date: Nov 4

Briar,

You missed all three classes today. School policy dictates that I need to inform the dean about three or more unexcused absences.

If you meet me tomorrow afternoon for catch-up work, I'll make an exception.

Classes tomorrow afternoon are canceled for a faculty meeting. Come to my office at 1:30. Otherwise, I'll have to talk to the dean.

- Malachi

Anger bubbles in my stomach at his threat. Malachi going to the dean is basically signing my death warrant. Patrick has made it very clear that if anyone finds out what he does, he'll kill me to save his own ass. Logically, I know Malachi has no idea what he's threatening. I'm still pissed he's putting me in this position.

Since I can barely walk, I wasn't planning on going to class tomorrow. With Malachi's threat hanging over my head, I not only have to go to my class tomorrow, I also have to meet with Malachi and hope I can hide my pain well enough he doesn't notice.

I'm so fucked.

Also, would it kill Malachi not to boss me around for a single day?

Apparently.

With furious jabs of my thumbs, I send an email agreeing to meet him tomorrow. When I finish, I toss my phone aside and haul my aching body out of bed. I'm going to need a massive dinner to have any hope of making it to school tomorrow. After eating every cold cut in the house, I collapse back into bed. I'm drained just from getting food, which doesn't bode well for tomorrow.

Making sure to set my alarm for the morning, I let sleep pull me under.