Bang(44)

School started up again last week. I was so anxious, nervous to see Pike now that we would both be in high school. Would he grab me and hug me, or would he look right through me as if I no longer existed? But I didn’t have to worry so much because he wasn’t there. I searched the halls and then wound up going to the office only to find out that he transferred to another school. They wouldn’t tell me where though. Walking out of the office that day, I thought to myself, Maybe this is where you give up, Elizabeth. Maybe this is where you realize life’s fate for you. Maybe this is where you finally stop fighting for something that was never meant to be.

That was last week, and I still haven’t made any decisions about those thoughts. And so I resume my mechanical life. Wake up, go to school, go home, be f*cked by my greasy, fat foster dad, shower, homework, bed. Bed is always a variable; it’s either bed or leather restraints and locked in the closet. Despite the disgust, I’m hyperaware of my appearance. I’ve been lucky so far to avoid the puberty pimples; my skin is soft and flawless from the neck up. Beneath my clothes is a different story—various colors of new and healing bruises, welts, and cuts. My wrists look like I’ve had a few failed suicide attempts. My red hair is bright and full of lazy, loose waves that fall past my slender shoulders. My face, it deceives everyone because no one would ever guess the horror that lives beneath. But no matter how ugly I feel, I try to take care of myself.

When the final bell rings, I shove my books into my backpack and walk through the halls. I have no friends here; maybe it’s my fault, or maybe it’s theirs. I keep to myself. I never speak unless called on by a teacher, and even with that, I never say more than necessary. My grades are good, not that I have any aspirations after I graduate. I’m sure I’ll be flipping burgers somewhere or turning tricks, giving out blowjobs depending on how much money I want to make.

Cynical?

Yeah, I am.

I move slowly, letting everyone pass, bumping into me as they rush out of this school and into their freedom. But this is my freedom—here at school and away from home. So I take my time, and when I finally walk out the metal double doors, I tighten my coat around me and start heading home. Before I can make it off school grounds, a black, vintage Mustang pulls alongside me, and I think I’m imagining things when I hear his familiar voice.

“Elizabeth, thank God.”

Pike gets out of the car and has me in his arms fast. The comfort is overwhelming, and it doesn’t take long before I’m weeping into his shirt.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes in my hair, and I nod against his chest. “Are you okay?”

I pull back and look up at him, ignoring his question, asking, “Where have you been?”

“I didn’t know how to find you. I tried sneaking by the house a few times this summer, but you were never there.”

“I was there,” I tell him. “He kept me locked up for most of the summer. He knew about us . . . that we were . . . you know. It pissed him off and he said that’s why he got rid of you.”

“Shit.”

And then the crying starts as I deflate and say, “I thought you gave up on me.”

“Never.”

He then turns to the car, and when I peek around him, I see the driver. He’s older, maybe in his twenties, with tattoos down his arms.

“Come with me. We can talk,” Pike says as he looks back at me.

“Can’t be gone long. Carl normally gets home around five.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have you back in time,” he tells me and then opens the door to crawl into the back seat before holding his hand out for me. “This is Matt, by the way,” Pike introduces, “He’s a good buddy of mine.”

“Hey,” Matt says, giving me a nod in the rearview mirror before pulling back out onto the street.

“Hey.” My voice, barely a whisper when Pike pulls me into his arms.

“Talk to me.”

I keep my eyes on Matt, not wanting to speak in front of this stranger.

“Don’t worry about him,” Pike tells me. “He’s cool.”

“I was scared I would never see you again,” I admit quietly.

“I told you to believe in me. I’m not leaving you. The place I’m staying has strict rules. Basically school and then back by eight o’clock curfew.”

“What’s it like?” I ask. “The group home, I mean.”

“It’s okay. You’re not there, so I spend most of my time worrying about you.”

“This cool, man?” Matt says when he pulls into the back lot of a rundown strip mall.

“Yeah. Just give us an hour,” Pike tells him as he parks the car and then gets out.

“Where’s he going?”

“Just giving us some alone time. I want to talk to you. I wanna know if you’re okay.”

I shake my head and a few tears slip out. “It’s awful, Pike. It’s so bad.”

“You’re gonna be okay.”

I shake my head again.

“I know you don’t see it, but you’re a strong girl. You will be okay.”

“He does horrible things to me. Things he never did before,” I reveal. He cradles me to his chest and kisses the top of my head as I hold on to him, adding, “And now you’re not there to take it away.”