Roar (4 page)

A hollow bang sounds behind me. “Let her be, David.” The three of us gasp and swing around to the one voice we never thought we would hear.

“What the hell, Nate?! You should be in the hospital. How did you get out?” He’s in hospital scrubs and not a gown, which surprises me further; we don’t usually give them out. I rush to his side and help him to a seat at the table which a flustered Nona is pulling out for him, cussing up a wind storm.

“I didn’t know where my personal stuff was kept,” Nate says, grunting as he sits gingerly. “Could you pay for the cab out there? I told him to wait.”

“Sure,” I say before Nona pats my back and says she will pay.

“You know what?” I say. Frankly, he has pissed me off. He should be taking better care of himself. “I think we need to get you to bed or at least the sofa if you won’t go back to the hospital.”

“Jesus, woman, could you have not said that before you had me sit at the table, which, by the way, makes me hungry.”

“Well if you stayed in the hospital where you should have, you may have had food by now. You would be resting like you are supposed to, under doctor’s supervision with all the medical facilities you may need.”

Davey is bouncing; he’s in a panic and we both see it as Nate hooks his arm on my shoulder again.

“Hey, Davey,” I say softly, “Wanna give me a hand? Your brother’s fatter than he thinks.”

Davey laughs tightly, but clearly begins to calm as he comes around the old table and hooks his solid shoulder under Nate’s other arm. He laughs freely this time, and my chest feels so much lighter.

“Nate’s fat,” Davey bursts out before chuckling all the way to the sofa.

I can’t help but chuckle along as Nate rolls his eyes and tries to keep himself from succumbing to his brother’s humor. I assume his shoulder hurts like a bitch; his head, too. He probably needs another dose of morphine, and maybe even antibiotics. A part of me wants to say, it serves you right. Yet, the other part of me wants to smother him in my love and care. I think I will go with something in between, something I’m used to and can manage without destroying the carefully constructed walls.

“Did you at least get your drugs before you left?” I ask, as he grinds his teeth against the pain of sitting again. He doesn’t answer right away as I lift his legs slowly to the sofa. It’s the same sofa as I remember. Many fond memories have been made on this beige, velvet piece of furnishing. “Davey, can you get Dumbass a blanket and his pillow?”

Davey gasps and grins. “You cussed. Nona will wash your mouth out with soap.” He claps and heads out of the room. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs and know it’s safe to say what needs to be said.

“Nathan Shaw, you stupid son of a bitch. You could have done some serious damage.” I lift his shirt and inspect his dressing. There is a small amount of blood, but that’s normal. “You are very lucky not to have ruptured the suture. What if you bled out in that cab? What if you ripped the inside sutures? What if you made it here and died on Nona’s porch? You had a head injury. What if you got a clot or something?”

“But I didn’t,” he says defensively, as though I was being ridiculous.

“You could have.” I shriek a little; I don’t mean to, but his lack of self-preservation scares me to death. I know those thoughts, and I don’t want them for him.

Nate takes my hands in his and brings them to his mouth. I try to pull them away out of instinct, but he holds them tight and kisses them. I watch his mouth as his lips soften, and they make contact with my skin again. The gentle touch makes me shiver, and I close my eyes, recalling that Thursday, allowing the small tingles to spread through my arms before I open my lids and look into his hazel eyes. A lot of changes have happened to his body. He has become a strong man, but those eyes are the same; they hold my secrets and part of my soul forever.

“I am alive, and I am here.”

I nod, and instead of pulling my hands away, I use one to stroke his stubbly cheek, while he holds the other tightly. “Nate?”

He kisses my hand again, and I sigh. “I have missed you, Charlie.”

A tear slides down my cheek, dropping onto his blue shirt. “I have missed you.”

The front door closes, and Nona’s mumbling breaks the growing electricity between Nate and I. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe after all this time, we are sucked right back into the world where we are teenagers wanting things we shouldn’t. Well, we aren’t teenagers anymore. We have responsibilities and people who will get hurt if we don’t watch ourselves and our demons, which always take control when we are together.

I stand up and brush my face as Nona comes in the room eying us like a radar. “Can he eat?” she asks me.

I nod. “Yeah, he can eat.” Then she was gone, leaving me to stare after her. She’s angry, and I can’t blame her. 7:42 this morning, her grandson was brought into emergency room of Beaver Dam Community Hospital. Thirteen-and-a-half hours later, he is home and so is his broken, long-lost puppy. Nona doesn’t need this kind of stress, but I don’t know if I can leave him yet.

I turn back to Nate, and he is shaking his head and trying to sit up. “No, no, no,” he chants. “Don’t you dare go!” I rush to his side and push against his good shoulder, wary of his injury.

“I never said I was,” I try to soothe.

“I know you. I can read you like a book.”

“You never could read very well.”

Nate falls back and looks up at me in stunned silence until a huge grin spreads across his face, reaching his eyes. I love that smile.

Davey was back with a pillow and a blanket, his smile like his brother’s. Nate told me they had different fathers, but I can see a strong resemblance, so I assume that they take after their mother with their dark hair, soft mouths, and wide chests. The major difference is in their eyes. Nate’s are hazel until he is real mad, and then they are darker; they are his mood indicator, like the ring he gave me when I was eight. Davey has blue eyes, sweet and beautiful. I’ve never seen him mad; I don’t think he has it in him.

Davey gives me the pillow, and I take it, gently aiding Nate up as I slide it behind him.

“I don’t want the blanket, it’s hotter than hell,” he chides. I give him a look and nod, taking the blanket and folding it over the back of the sofa in case he needs it.

“So did you commit a breakout or actually sign out against doctor’s advice?”

He cocks his head and gives me that look, the one that says I should know better by now. He never did anything by the book.

“So you didn’t get the drugs you need?”

“I don’t want them.”

My mouth opens to yell, but I hold it in and exhale slowly. “You need pain relief, and who knows what else. More than likely you need antibiotics and dressings, and if all else fails, a club over the head for being so stupid.”

“I don’t want the pain relief, the club—”

“
Why not
? Have you turned into such a masochist you enjoy the pain now?” As soon as the words flew from my mouth, I wanted to take them back. I just opened up the door to the past we both never would want to visit. I wait for him to mutter the words that will grind me back to the ground. Sweat beads down my back, reeking of fear and anticipation.

“Because… I could easily have become an addict a long time ago. I was close, so I try not to risk it.”

I’m shocked. I was more than shocked as I picture the youthful, seventeen-year-old boy I had been ripped from eleven years ago. I can’t see him giving into the likes of drugs, not when he was so dead against them because of his mother. He was a fighter, hated alcohol and drugs because of what they could do to families. I just don’t get it. What had he gone through in prison that would drive him so low? The thought terrifies me.

“It’s not what you think, Charlie,” he says softly, almost disappointed. “I got hurt pretty bad and had to―”

“Enough chatter. Eat,” Nona commands as she carries two plates of roasted meat and vegetables out, Davey following with a pitcher of iced tea. “You both have a lot of history and a hell of a lot to talk about. Not all of it has to be faced in one night.”

She’s right… and very, very wrong. I don’t plan on sharing any more than he knows, because after I share this meal, I have to go back to the life I have made without them. I love them more than anyone, including Paul. I miss them more than I can say, but that doesn’t change anything. It didn’t change anything back then, and it can’t change now. Too much time has passed and yet not enough pain.

They have been through too much because of me, and I will not allow any more to come.

IT’S GETTING WORSE
. Not what her father wants us to do; that has never really changed over the six years. Six fucking years. He is methodical in what he wants from her―the same thing every time. Same place, same time, same sick and twisted game. I whisper stories of Neverland in her ear when I feel her stiffen against me. I don’t want her to be repulsed by my touch, as I no longer am.

I was too young when this all began to understand the feeling I had at nine. I knew it was wrong, that was clear, but I was never repulsed by her. Instead, I feel as though I have betrayed her. I guess it’s because I haven’t been able to save her. Now I face the dilemma on a day to day basis of loving her. I’m fifteen, and I love a girl who is so damaged, she no longer talks to anyone at school but me.

Boys still look at her, but I give them the firm stink eye. She is not theirs to gawk at, which is such an asshole thing to say, because she shouldn’t be anybody’s. She is just thirteen, and should be going out on the lake with everyone else this weekend. But I know what she will do, because he has trained her very well. She doesn’t go out; she doesn’t make phone calls or have sleepovers with the other giggly girls in her class. He has her so withdrawn that she can’t see straight. She wants him to be happy. Who the fuck cares if he’s happy?! He’s making her miserable! He is breaking her down until I’m petrified there will be nothing left to break.

No, Charlie won’t do anything out of her norm. Just like him, she has become a creature of habit. At four a.m., before her father rises, she will slide into her favorite shorts and Green Bay Packers tee and totter through the dark over to my place. She will let herself in, climb my stairs, and slide into my bed with me, where we hold one another until Nona calls us for breakfast.

Not long ago, I tried to meet her outside, but the next day she never came. Freaked the shit out of me when I got to the yard in the pitch black of night, and she was nowhere in sight. I thought something terrible had happened to her, so I bolted to her open window and her empty room, calling for her, hoping not to wake him. My gut heaved at the thought he had come for her. I jumped from her window and headed to the garage, where it was darker than sin. She wasn’t there, and I swear I could have cried. I ran for my house, needing to see if I missed her, hoping she was waiting for me in my bed while I was searching. I took the stairs to the porch faster than I ever have in my life, when something caught my eye. There curled up in the corner of my porch steps, in the dark by Nona’s large pot of flowers, was Charlie. She was shivering and so cold to touch, even though the night was warm. I knew right then that I had to let her do her thing, or I would likely lose her.

Nona knows there’s something going on with her, but she puts it down to a father who isn’t there for her. I wish he wasn’t there at all.

The school cafeteria is loud today. I don’t know if it’s always this loud, but it feels louder. I think Charlie feels it too because she is tucking into me. I kiss the top of her head and smell her sweet shampoo. It smells of babies or something. “You okay?”

She glances up at me, and I can see a darkness under her eyes that I haven’t seen before.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she mumbles.

I sigh because I don’t want her to have to either. “I know, Charlie.”

“I don’t even want to live anymore.”

I jerk back, for a second I think I misheard her. But as I look into her dark brown eyes I realize how lost they are. She’s giving up on me. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare leave me, Charlotte!”

“Don’t call me Charlotte.” She shakes her head and doesn’t stop. “Don’t call me that ever.
He
calls me that.”

I reach for her and pull her in tight; ignoring the stares we are getting despite our voices being low amongst the noise of the student body. “Sorry. I know he does. I’m sorry. You’re just scaring me. I’m scared, Charlie.”

“I’m scared every day.”

Motherfucker. She breaks my heart. “I know. But you need to hang in there. Come on, let’s skip the rest of the day. I want to show you something.”

“What?” She tilts her head and looks up at me with those desperately lost eyes; they beg me to save her.

I stand up and gather our untouched lunch, shoving what I can in my bag. “It’s a surprise.”

“You know I hate surprises,” she groans. It’s true; she does, but she needs to feel the elation of a surprise. She needs to feel alive. “Come on. It’s Friday, and your dad will be working all weekend and Nona will be busy with some craft show on Highway 151. We have free rein. Let’s go on a trip.”