Using the banister, I pull myself to standing and make my way back down the stairs, finding something else to lean my body weight against as I head for my front door and out of the house. Once outside, there’s nothing to hold on to, and it hurts too much to walk on my own, so I do the only thing I can before I fall and hurt myself more.
I crawl.
I crawl on my hands and knees, slowly but surely, to the asshole next door. Rain pelts down, battering my naked body and making my hair stick to my face. Red droplets fall to the ground after washing away my blood, potentially some of Tiny Balls’. The wet grass and mud clings to my palms, shins, feet, and knees, but I’m thankful I can at least still feel things. I’m not as numb as I think I should be. As Iwantto be.
Tanner’s security lights ping on as I reach his porch, highlighting the mess I’m in, but I couldn’t give two shits how I look. I bang on his front door as hard as my weak body will allow, over and over…but nothing. How is it that he’s always here to mock me, no matter what time of day or night I’m outside, but the one time I need him…he’s gone?
The porch light eventually goes out as I still, unable to move anywhere else as I hug my knees to my chest for warmth, desperately hoping he gets home soon because I’m spent. I’m cold, I’m in pain, and I’m close to passing out again, but I’m trying real hard not to.
Time passes as I drift in and out of consciousness. I know I should move but it feels like an impossible task. Then hope flutters when I hear the soft rumblings of an engine and tears begin to freefall once more, my body still non-stop shivering from the cold or the shock. Then headlights of a car shine brightly…and there he is…standing over me. The way his wet hair hangs over his forehead, his concerned brown eyes staring straight into my soul…I could almost forget the way he treated me in high school.
“Berkleigh? What the fuck? Who did this to you?”
I thought it would be easy, but I can’t seem to find my voice, the tears and pain taking over everything. I try to control my sobs, silently pleading with him to not be his usual asshole self about this, before the words I never thought I’d say to him finally break free.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
The usual hardness in his eyes softens, or I’m hallucinating, which is entirely probable considering my state of mind, and he scoops me up in his arms. My heart leaps to my throat, but not in fear. I have never been afraid of Tanner—only ever angry at him. It’s a foreign feeling with him holding me; a safe one, I think.
The inside of his house is nothing like I remember. He’s renovated the whole thing to be completely new, like something out of a minimalist magazine rather than the trash hole it once was, and I don’t blame him. His parents were the worst kind of people and he spent a lot of time at my house for meals, until everything changed one summer and he turned on me. I still have no idea why. I just know that he became a different person and instead of being the boy next door who loved my mom’s cheesecake, he became the asshole next door who loved to make my life hell.
With a softness I didn’t know he possessed, Tanner lays me down on a bed that smells like the sweetest pears mixed with something I can’t place. I love a pear scent, it always calms me. He leaves me there, and I watch him as he turns and walks out of the room, his fists tightly clenched at his sides.
My body doesn’t feel like it’s shaking as much as before, but the loss of contact with his warmth and the idea of being alone again makes me curl into myself and sob. I don’t know what I expected from him, but he’s already done more than I thought he’d be comfortable with.
A hand between my shoulder blades and a dip in the bed beside me lets me know he’s back and I hiccup another sob, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m just checking your injuries, okay?”
Not once, never, have I heard Tanner ask for permission, but I nod, regardless. My throat is too raw, my voice too broken for me to use words.
He handles me like the most delicate flower, nothing like those cockroaches who attacked me. I should hate it, should shy away from his touch and his judging gaze, but I’m allowing myself to believe he’s still the boy he once was. My best friend. I can trust him with my life.
Tanner checks each bruise, each mark on my body, until he grunts and stands again. “Nothing life threatening, no broken bones. I’m going to clean you up a little before you sleep.” He doesn’t wait for a response, grabbing a blanket from a chair in the corner of the room and placing it over my naked body before leaving.
The shock is beginning to wear off and the throbbing ache has begun to seep in even more, but I know I’m not dying. So there’s that.
“Here, take these.” Tanner comes back into the room with a tray of things, placing it beside me on the bed. He passes me two small tablets and a glass of water. “They’ll help with the pain.”
I don’t question him, blindly trusting that he won’t hurt me in my moment of need. I swallow the tablets and sip the water, wincing a little as they go down.
“Thank you.” Speaking just reminds me of how much my throat hurts and I feel like I’m in this strange bubble, like I’m looking down at myself lying here, helpless.
Calling the cops has crossed my mind again, but I’m just so damn tired and there’ll be a lot of questions I’m not in any kind of mood to answer…my house will still look like a crime scene in the morning. It can wait. If I was my own client, I’d give myself very different advice, the logical kind, but being able to help other people doesn’t mean I’m good at taking care of myself. Clearly.
Right here, right now, the madness is but a dull ringing between my ears, soothed only by the fact I’m not alone.
In silence, Tanner lifts the bottom corner of the blanket and reveals my feet, taking one in his hand and pulling his tray closer. There’s a large bowl of water, and he begins washing my feet, taking his time to clean them thoroughly, but also using the lightest of touches in case some of the dirt is a bruise.
Carefully, he makes his way farther up my leg, where he no doubt has to use a lot more water to remove the mud. After what I’ve just been through, with three men in my home, being here with my tormentor seems like a walk in the park.
It’s strange how safe I feel with Tanner. So safe, in fact, that I’m drifting off to sleep as he washes down my body. I know, bone deep, that he won’t take advantage of me like that. He may hate me, but right now, he is my savior.
As I get closer to unconsciousness, thoughts of the helplessness I feel swirl through my mind. I’ve been stagnant, stupid, and naïve.
I make a vow to myself that no man will put me in this position or lay a finger on me in anger ever again.
And then I cry myself to sleep, silent tears creeping down my cheeks, and I must be hallucinating some more because the softest of lips press against my forehead and promise a revenge I can absolutely get on board with.
