|We Were Wrong
Author: Write-To-Rebel PM
Since his mother's murder, Adrian is scarred. His girlfriend, Bells is helping him slowly heal but Adrian fears another attack, Though Bells, a military brat, thinks this is just the PTSD talking. After attacks in their town, it turns out Adrian was rightRated: Fiction M - English - Horror/Romance - Words: 3,040 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 12-06-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2870972
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter One: The Lioness and
"He's just a child!" My mother defends me, just as she always defends me.
"Alex's already mastered this!" My father reaches out a hand and slaps her. Mom, a gifted Martial Artist herself raises her own hand and back hands him with all the strength she can manage.
"That doesn't mean you need to beat it into him!"
"He's weak!" My father retorts.
"If you lay another hand on my son I will…"
"You'll what?" My eyes are wide as my father slaps my mother again. My mother falls to the ground away from me. "You are my wife and you shall obey ME!"
"You're absolutely correct, I am your wife and I have every right to divorce you!" Blood runs down my mother's cheek. Compassion had always been in my nature, I'm not as hard and tough as my sister is or parents were.
"Then why don't you! Why don't you tear your son away from everything he knows and go marry some bastard like the little whore you are!" My father sneers in her face, looming over her. My mother slaps him, if it weren't for me, she would have divorced the asshole and left already, but because of me, she stayed.
"Because he still loves you! I don't know how, but you're son still loves you! That's why!"
"He's weak… just like you. How did my son turn out so much like his mother?" Oliver, my father the bastard asks and hits her with all the power she has.
"For the Love of God! He's just like you!"
"Oh shut up! He's you're goddamned son, even if I did have sex with someone else, he IS YOUR SON!"
"No he isn't. And you aren't my wife." Dad pulls a knife. It's my knife, my pearl dagger that my Aunt Lena bought for me when she was living in Nepal last summer. He kneels sideways on her throat and plunges it into her thigh. I tackle him, trying to get my own knife from his hands. But I am a fourteen year old boy against a fully grown FBI Agent who has turned on what he used to uphold and is now turned into what he used to put in jail, a true sociopath.
I kicked my father in the groin and stick my thumb and middle finger into my father's left eye, but the man just laughs off what pain he can't even feel anymore. He throws me into the wall, his eye bleeding. He grips my throat fiercely, pressing me against the wall by the neck and strangles me partially before I kick out, my steel toe boots crashing into his leg with a snap. He drops me in a whirl of swearwords and howling. I go to kick me with his good leg but before I can, I stand and grab him, taking him down to the floor with no remorse now. He bends my arm behind my back, tearing my shoulder muscles and snapping my arm in a million places.
Pain, savage and burning, sears up my arm, but I've sustained worse so as his hand comes down to quell my screaming, even though we're acres and acres from any other human being. I open my mouth and snap down viciously. I taste a rush of blood that isn't mine and I bite down harder until he lets go. Spitting blood, I get up, arm hanging limply and painfully at my left and my mother to my right. I kick him in the head, hard. It has to be over now. I heave for breath that won't come and my eyes watching the blood pour out of my mother. I crawl over to her and stick my fingers into her wounds to stop the bleeding. She's pale, so fucking pale and looks like one of my monochromatic charcoal sketches.
"Shush… honey… run away from here, get out, okay?"
I shake my head and start picking her up. Our house is in the woods, maybe I can get to the road and call 911, it will be okay.
But I am never that lucky. My father leaps up, grabs the knife and before I can react with my wounded mother over my functional shoulder and useless arm, slips it right into my back. There is more pain, but miraculously, I don't drop my mom. I don't fall. All I can think is, "GET THE HELL OUT NOW!" as I taste more blood coming down my mouth.
My dad stabs me again. This time just below my ribcage, and this time I fall. I fall forever, knocking my head into the foyer floor. My eyes flutter, I see so much blood, just red, red and more red under the bright unnatural light of the floodlights in our door way. There are more flashes of scarlet as something warm and wet splatters against my face. All I can do is scream, but I don't my throat isn't working. Something won't let me move, and I realize its my mother's limp body.
"How do you like me now, sweetheart? Do you find me a real man now, like you're precious son?"
My father smirks when Mom doesn't respond. I'm lying in the doorway, my fuzzy eyes gazing up at stars and blood dripping at my feet. Tears run down my eyes in pain, there is so much of it. Dad sticks the knife in me one more time and I scream.
"Adrian? Adrian!" Someone is calling for me. I can't breathe still. I heave and the scene… it disappears, the blood fades away as my eye open. My mouth, though my body tells me there is no air in my lungs, open in another scream.
But Bells 's concerned voice, trying to call me back, is mistaken for their father's and I thrashes harder, shaking and shivering under the grip on my shoulders. I keep screaming.
My eyes dart back and forth. Get away from me dad! Get away… I throw myself upward, forcing my weight against gravity. I succeed in getting her off me.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Another voice yells.
Water splashes down on me. It feels good on my face, and I relax in surprise. "What?"
"Adrian… you okay?" Says another voice, a cool, soothing voice that brings me back from something… "Do you want to talk about it?" Bells is kneeling down next to me with her delicately tanned face and mane of wavy gold hair in a sleek ponytail; she looks like a lioness, a fierce protective lioness protecting her mate, which would be me.
"Because you look like hell." She says and aims those eyes at me. I'm stupid enough to look into her eyes; those massive pools of camouflage colored concern look back at me and I have to look away. They remind me that no matter how desperate I am, I always have them to live for. I see the whole slumber party staring at me as I look behind her. Her brother, Jack, is pushing staring people away. Some look sympathetic, some are laughing, others are somewhere in between.
"What the fuck, get away from me!" I say and get to my feet.
"Adrian, don't…" She puts a hand on my shoulder. I tear myself away. A flicker of hurt crosses her eyes as I withdraw.
"No." I shook my head again and stand up, getting out of my sweat soaked sleeping bag. "I have to pee."
"Ok…" Bells lets me pass and immediately goes on crowd control, shoving people out of my way as I go to the bathroom. It's a tiny thing underneath her staircase, used to be a closet she tells me. I shiver, my clothes are soaked in cold sweat and it does look like I pissed my pants, even though that's freezing cold like every other square inch of me. They're laughing at me, I know it, but Bells 's voice pops into my head. This isn't the first time I've sweat so much at a nightmare. She told me that peeing you're pants (or at least looking like it) is like friendship, everyone can see it, but only you can feel the warmth!
"Did you see that? He pissed his pants!" Said a voice from a far corner. I hear the sound of flesh on flesh as I unzip and stand before the toilet.
"Get the hell out of my house if you want to laugh!" She yells. They immediately sober up and I hear her, as I take my piss, yell to the rest of them, "That goes for all you mother fuckers to!"
She means it. I shake my head. I pull up my pants, flush and wash my hands before I open the door to see Jack, in his navy blue pajama pants and white t-shirt, it's a little hard to miss him standing against their beige wall with the coat rack crowed with guest's coats and outer wear. There are 15 guests in the living room, 8 guys and 7 girls. I don't count us 4.
"Come on, you're going to freeze in those." He says and gestures upstairs. There is a large French doorway that had the actual doors taken out. That's the only thing separating the living room from us. Bells throws me a smile as she gets everyone's attention.
"I'll be he lets his girlfriend do the fighting because he's too big a wuss to do it himself."
"Okay people; let's take a vote for the next movie! If you wanna watch the original Halloween, flip me off! If you want to watch the new one, make a peace sign!"
New beats out old, I see, as the majority makes peace signs at her. We go up the stairs. Jack goes into his bedroom. The master bedroom is directly to the left, that's where their parents sleep, if they're ever home. Jack's is right next to his parents'. The closet connects it to Bells 's. His bedroom is painted pale blue with a lot of navy blue accents. His bunk bed is navy blue painted. I have slept in that bed a million times. He used to sleep over at my house to, but since The Nightmare, I sleep at his place most of the time. My sister does to; she sleeps in Bells 's room though. But we have a tendency to swap roommates some nights.
He doesn't look at me as he extracts a pair of black P.J. pants, black boxers with white peace signs on them and a black t-shirt from his, practically our, dresser and throws them at me. I shed my own sweat soaked clothes and put them on. He sits down against a chest full of sports equipment that is set against the wall. He looks at me, his face dark. If Bells is a Lioness, Jack is leopard. He's got a sleek head of blond hair with these natural brown highlights that disappear in the summer.
"Don't these pants belong to me anyway?" I say, throwing him a fake smile and giving a shallow laugh. He doesn't buy it, he knows me to damn well, but I keep the charade up.
"Yeah," He shakes his head at me. I strip down to my boxers and disappear into the closet to undress the rest of the way. I come out fully dressed, but shivering.
"You look like hell Adrian." He told me as I picked up one of my hoodies that was sitting on the dresser, (told you I practically lived here) and threw it at me I shoved it over my head and sat down on my bunk. It's the lower one, he likes being on top.
"Thanks Jack." I say with another fake smile on my face. I feel like a Jack o' lantern, with my insides scooped out but I'm still lit up and smiling.
"Quit doing that!" He exclaims as he throws a Nerf football at my head. It doesn't hurt, but it surprises me.
"What?" I ask.
"Smiling." He looks at me.
"Why can't I smile?"
"Because you're not happy, and it wierds me out when you smile."
"I dunno, because you're not happy, still."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You're always smiling or completely impassive, most of the time it looks like one of us could be murdered and you…"
I look up at him sharply and accidently let my face contort into a look of black fury. This is forbidden territory, those words… murder… that's not allowed. I can't handle it, my emotions are still to raw, the pain to fresh and he's opened it, stuck a rusty knife in a infected wound and he damn well knows it. He looks at me, and a look of fear flickers across his face quickly. My facial expressions are so like my dad's that I cringe at his reaction. It's the same reaction I used to have. That horrified look of fear, it's something I promised myself that I would never make them do. I immediately flicker from aggressive to passive.
"Don't… please… I can't…" My hands curl up into fists inside my sweatshirt, and it isn't long before I feel blood dripping from where my nails ripped into my palms. He knows I can't do this, he's tried to tell me I need to forget, I know I need to, but I just can't. And he do doesn't get it, he's never felt the guilt and shame that I have. I've just finally been able to start living normally, going to school, doing homework, blah, blah, blah, but now he's got to try and tear it all away. All the normalcy with be gone if he keeps going.
But, he does, just my fucking luck.
"Look… I'm sorry, but it's been two years, and he hasn't come back yet… Maybe it's time to forget. I know you'll never forgive him,but I think it's time to move on." It takes a lot of restraint for me not to hit him right then and there. I pull my hood over my head to hide the rage in my face, because even my control isn't that good.
"I can't." I hiss as I go for the door. He grabs my shoulder though.
"What the fu-" he looks at me.
"Tomorrows the 2nd anniversary." I say. "It's to-fucking-marrow and I'm going to be reminded yet again of how much I fucked up."
His eyes widen. "Oh Jesus, Adrian, I'm sorry."
I extract myself from him; my arms are starting to shake. I'm just so sick of this, waking up from nightmare filled sleep that doesn't let me rest. Why can't I be allowed to sleep? Tortured soul… not me… I'm just getting what I deserve. I was weak and my mother paid for it with her life. It won't happen again. That much I can guarantee.
"Its fine, just forget about it, please. I'm just going to go down stairs, find Bells and forget it."
"You won't." He looks at me funny again, that same mix of fear and sympathy from when I first woke up screaming.
"Whatever," I say and walk down the stairs sluggishly. I'm still trembling like a scared Chihuahua, but even as I rub away the blood from my punctured palms, they shake. A vein, blue and alien looking is bulging from my wrist, so I know there's one in my forehead bulging to. Joy, I'm stressed enough to have that high of blood pressure and I'm not even seventeen yet.
So I relax.
I walk into the living room, spotting her mane of blond hair easily. She clears some people off the couch so we can sit down. She's really into that "my house my rules" thing. Eventually people get sick of her glaring and get off the loveseat so we have it all to ourselves, though she's still playing hostess and has to get up occasionally for more chips or drinks or whatever. Bells kisses me on the cheek and sits with her friends, Melons, Saintly, Lexa and a few others.
I crawl into my sleeping bag, and nearly fall asleep on the couch before Bells decides that she doesn't like her sleeping bag and I wake up to her warm 5'2 body, all slim cut curves, against my chest against her back, her butt against my thighs. I start to watch her, as she watches the stupid horror flick. I kissed her teasingly along the neck and behind her ears and she shuddered.
"Oh…" She moans as I butterfly kiss Bells' back. Moving her shirt up and down as I go. Her skin is extremely smooth and warm and soft under my lips.
"Adrian… oh stop it Adrian… please… there are people around." She shivers in pleasure, her voice wavering with it. "Not now."
I ignore her, she always protests before we get graphic, so I kiss her again.
I nip at her playfully, but she pushes me away. "I said not now." The look in Bells face is angry. There is no fear there. There never was fear on her part, not of me at least. What I might become, yes. But she was never scared of me.
I have never figured out if it was because Bells could kick my ass anytime she wanted to or just her nature.
But its why I love her.