A Piece of Heaven (Allendale Four 1)

And on

And on

And on

I knew I should turn it off, but like any trainwreck it was impossible to step away. It felt like watching someone else’s life unfold, but then I looked at the photo and remembered standing there, feeling Hayden’s lips on my forehead, wanting him to do more.

Maybe I was a whore?

Maybe I deserved this?

Anxiety wracked through my chest and it’s all just too much. Hayden made me feel better but now that had been exploited too. Was any of it real?

I pinched myself and felt the sting.

I did it again.

The house was quiet. My mom was gone again. I stared and stared at the photo, feeling like a worthless piece o

f trash. If I didn’t do something, the panic would set in. I needed a way to release the anxiousness—the pain of being a loser no matter what I did.

I went to my desk and pulled out my pencil bag. There was a small sharpener inside and I knew I could break it open. Get to the blade inside. I’d done it before.

Dropping the phone into the docking station, I flipped on some music and stripped off my shirt so that I was down to a white tank. I saw the scars from before—back when things were darkest for me. They’re all over my upper arms, pale and pink, where people couldn’t see. I never tried to kill myself. That’s not what it was about. The cuts…they were to release the pain. The stress and anger I carried day in and day out. Things had been better but all of this—I’d ventured too outside my box. How dare I try to make friends. How dare someone like me for me.

I fought to catch my breath, focusing on the music and staring at my face in the bathroom mirror. Mascara smeared down my cheek. My nose was red and splotchy. I’d promised my mom I wouldn’t do this anymore, but it hurt so bad.

I smashed the pencil sharpener on the bathroom sink and eyed the sharp metal inside.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I screamed. I screamed loud, so loud, and spun around.

“Oliver! Holy shit!”

Oliver stood in the doorway, eyes wide with fear. He reached for me and snatched the blade from my hand. “What is this?” His eyes skimmed down my arm, taking in the scars. “Heaven, what are you doing?”

We stared at one another and finally I broke. I just broke, collapsing into a heap. A wail rose from the back of my throat but I didn’t hit the ground. Strong arms caught me, lifted me, carried me out of the bathroom.

Oliver cradled me against his chest and lowered me to the bed, engulfing me in his arms. I cried against him, using his body for support. I cried as he stroked my shoulders and arms, kissing the old scars one by one. I sobbed, feeling the pain in my chest crack, finally having someone there to take care of me. I did this until there was nothing left. No pain. No despair. Only an empty shell.

I did all of this, felt all of this until, bound tight in his unwavering arms, he rocked me to sleep.

*

I woke wrapped in warmth surrounded by the most fantastic smell. I didn’t want to wake up, not yet, a cloud lingered in the distance but here I was safe. I wanted to stay bundled in the cocoon.

Eventually I realized the cocoon moved and was not a blanket but the warm heat of a body, a male body, and I blinked my sore, exhausted eyes and looked into the most handsome face.

“Hey,” Oliver said, smiling down at me.

“Hi.”

Slowly the events of the night came back to me. The photo. My breakdown. The blade. Oliver—god, Oliver. How did he even know I needed help?

“I’m,” I started, feeling awkward and embarrassed. “I’m sorry about before. That was, uh…”

His hand stroked my cheek, blue eyes piercing into mine. “That was rough. Scary.”