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“I don’t want to go in yet. Can we just drive around for a bit?”
“Sure.” I’ll do whatever she wants because how am I ever going to make this up to her? My fucking father. He’s had affairs, put my mother through countless shitty situations, and he’s always liked younger women, but Anna?
My hands strangle the wheel as if it were my father’s throat. Time isn’t helping. There’s this anger in my chest, hurting like he was the one to lay into me, pounding on my chest, and it’s not getting any easier.
Silence stretches in the car, and I don’t know what to fill it with. What can I say to her?
It’s too much, being trapped in the car, so I start to drive back in the direction of her house. She doesn’t say anything, so I hope she’s ready. She doesn’t have to say anything to anyone. The thought of admitting what happened burns acid through the pit of my stomach.
We reach her house, and I jump out of the car and rush around to open her door for her and help her down. I want to wrap my arm around her and keep her tucked by my side.
Becca isn’t home, so we make it up to her room without any questions, but we’re both in shock. Or denial. Or something.
“You okay?” I ask out of some sort of desperation to know that she is.
She looks at me and nods, but I don’t believe her. How can she be?
I open my arms, and she crashes into me, squeezing me tighter than I’ve ever felt. My whole body tenses, desperate not to crush her too hard. We stay like that — propping each other up. At least she’s not running from me, too.
Finally, she steps back and looks up at me. But I can’t hold her gaze.
“I’m just going to wash up.” I lift my hands, the blood still stained after the shit job of cleaning up I did the first time.
As I look at her, all I see is my fucking father. It brings back the anger that shot through me like a bullet, bringing that crazy, out-of-control feeling. I hate it.
In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are still glassy. He did this.
He ruined it.
How is she going to love me now?
She is my everything, and he tried to take that away. Tried to ruin her. He’s a sick fucking bastard.
My jaw clenches, and my teeth grind together. My fists ball, but I can’t lash out again. Anna needs me.
Fuck, I need her.
It’s the first time I think I’ve ever understood my mother and how she copes, and suddenly all I want to do is go to her and cry — take a bottle and forget this evening ever started.
Chapter Fourteen
That night was the beginning of the end. It certainly ended the winning streak we were on, which felt like the year was ours to rule and revel in.
Jeremy didn’t go back home until Monday after school. He stayed with me, but we barely spoke. He looked broken, and I didn’t want to say something that would make things worse, so I stayed quiet.
I was grateful but felt sorry for him at the same time. My emotions towards his father and what he tried to do to me got mixed up with everything that was happening. So, I took the easier option and didn’t say anything. At least for a few days.
Mum knew something was wrong but couldn’t work out what it might be because Jeremy was here with me. If we were fighting, then it would have been easier to figure out. However, I wasn’t ready to tell her what happened — neither the revolting behaviour of Mr Archer nor the temper and anger that fuelled Jeremy afterwards.
The party was a bust, although from what I got from shared texts, his friends showed up and took advantage of the free food and booze. Nobody stopped them or concerned themselves with Jeremy’s lack of an appearance at his own party.
I don’t know where his dad went, and I didn’t know why his mum wasn’t more concerned.
A lot of questions gathered, waiting to be answered, like the clouds rolling in off the coast, ready to bring an end to the balmy weather.
We stay silent on the way home from school. Even though days have passed, I still don’t know what to say. He pulls up outside my house.
“Are you coming in?”
