Thoughtful (Thoughtless, #1.5)(92)

So many memories bombarded me that I couldn’t separate them all. Cringing under his heavy fists, screaming as his belt bit into the flesh of my bare thighs. Crying. Begging for him to stop…

My heart pounded in my chest, and my throat completely closed. I couldn’t speak now if I wanted to. With a hard swallow, I nodded, just once. It was a weak, pathetic way to answer a question, but it was the hardest admission I’d ever made in my life. Yes, he beat me all the time. Every goddamn night he found a reason to hurt me. I couldn’t do anything right. And I tried. I tried so hard to be good.

“Very badly?” Kiera asked, clearly struggling with her own emotions.

I didn’t want to answer her, I desperately wanted to change the subject, but her eyes held me, and after a long time, I finally nodded again, just once. There were times I couldn’t sit, and times I couldn’t stand. Broken bones, bruised ribs, concussions…I’d had it all.

“Since you were little?”

I nodded again, and my vision grew hazy as tears stung my eyes. For as long as I can remember.

Kiera swallowed, and I could tell she didn’t want to ask any more painful questions, but she couldn’t stop herself now either. She’d already ripped off the bandage; now she had to clean the wound before she could re-dress it. “Didn’t your mom ever try to stop him…help you?”

It was clear that all of this was unfathomable to her. Understandable. From what I could tell, Kiera’s parents were warm, loving, good. Mine…were not. I shook my head no, and a tear in my eye rolled down my cheek as I remembered Mom watching me with disdain, like everything being done to me had been my fault. “You brought this on yourself, Kellan,” was her frequent response.

I could see the horror on Kiera’s face even more clearly once the watery obstruction in my vision was gone. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Seeing the look on her face brought even more memories rushing to the surface. They pummeled me relentlessly.

Her eyes as watery as mine, Kiera asked, “Did it end when Denny left?”

My mind shifted to the months of abuse after Denny had gone back home. My dad was furious that he’d gotten caught, that I’d made him look bad, that there had been a crack in the fa?ade…that I had begun to grow a backbone. He and Mom wanted to look like the perfect family. Appearances had been everything to them. Much more important than me.

Swallowing the knot in my throat, I shook my head again. “It got worse…so much worse.” I was surprised I could tell her that. I was surprised I could speak at all.

Again looking like she couldn’t picture such cruelty, she whispered, “Why?”

Because there is nothing about me worth loving, a fact proven by what I have done to you and my best friend.

“You’d have to ask them,” I whispered.

She started crying in earnest now, but I only felt numb inside, scoured raw by the memories. I impassively watched her tears falling, then watched as she put her arms around my neck and held me close. “I’m so sorry, Kellan,” she whispered in my ear.

I loosely brought my arms around her; pain was beginning to seep through the edges of the numbness, all the more intense because I was rubbed raw. “It’s okay, Kiera. It was years ago. They haven’t hurt me in a long time.” This shouldn’t still hurt so much. I should be over it.

She held me tight, and it all became too much. I couldn’t contain the anguish, couldn’t reconstruct the wall she’d torn down. A lifetime of pain ricocheted around my body, bouncing from one corner to the other. Each hit left me bruised and battered, and I shook as silent tears coursed down my cheeks.

After several minutes, Kiera pulled back to gaze at me. She said nothing about the moisture on my skin, the redness in my tired eyes. She just brought her hands to my cheeks, wiping them dry as she held me. One last tear fell from my eye as I gazed at her beautiful, loving face. Why can’t you love me like I love you? Why can’t anyone? How awful am I?

Kiera leaned over and kissed my tear away. Her warmth seared me to the core. I need you…so much. As she pulled away, I turned toward her mouth. I didn’t mean to; it was an instinct driven by pure need. I need the pain to end…this is the only way I know how to end it.

Our lips brushed together, but neither one of us moved. Afraid to move, afraid to break this connection that was second by second depleting my grief, I held my breath. I wasn’t sure how long we sat that way, our lips pressed together, Kiera’s hands on my cheeks, but eventually I needed air. I needed to breathe, and she was the best thing I could think to inhale. Surely she’d fill the void in my chest better than oxygen ever could.

I opened my lips to suck in air…and Kiera kissed me.

Her lips moved against mine, and the tears nearly returned to my eyes…it felt so good. I returned her kiss immediately, and we softly moved against each other. I couldn’t believe she was letting me do this, and by the way she was trembling, I thought she couldn’t believe it either. The movement was warm, tender, full of depth and meaning, but it stoked a fire within me, and it wasn’t long before I wanted more…so much more. I wanted to feel her all over, kiss her all over, love her all over. I wanted all of her.

Grabbing her neck, I pulled her in for a deeper kiss. Our tongues brushed together and she groaned, then pushed me away. I instantly realized my error. I’d let it happen again, broken her rule about how close we could and couldn’t get. She was going to freak out on me, leave me. She’d be gone. I’d be alone. I couldn’t handle that, especially right now, when I still felt so vulnerable.