All We Know Is Falling: Fall With Me: Volume One (28 page)

“What are you doing? I’m going to be late for class!”

He looked back at me. “We need to talk.”

He brought me into the girl’s bathroom and the two girls at the mirror whined at us.

“Oh come on,” one said. “This is the only nice bathroom in this damn school. If you’re gonna have sex can you please do it in the locker room or something?”

Another girl walked in and was so startled at the sight of a boy in here that she just walked right out. The rest of the girls left.

“I’m sorry to kidnap you but I needed to get you to talk to me,” Hale said after he let go of my hand.

“Is this important?”

“Yes. Very.”

I sighed. “Then we’re not doing this in a bathroom. We’re going to my house.” He agreed and we ditched class. I wasn’t sure if he planned on going back later, but I didn’t.

We got to my empty house and went to my bedroom. He sat on my bed and I leaned against the closed door. I couldn’t make myself move closer to him. Not when I could so clearly remember a time when it was all I wanted.

“Sit with me,” he asked.

I gave him a look. “Last time we were in a bed together it didn’t end very well.”

His head dropped. “I know. That’s what I’m trying to talk to you about. But I’d rather do it with you beside me.”

“Why?”

His eyes were sincere when he said, “Because I need you beside me. Especially for what I’m about to tell you.”

I walked over and stood in front of him. “What are you planning on telling me?”

He took my hands in his. “I’m going to tell you what was in my file.”

I felt my eyes widen and my heart pick up double time. “But I told you I didn’t care about what you did.”

“I know. But I care about it. I want you to know everything. Because I think you deserve to.”

I tried to pull my hands back but he wouldn’t let me. “Why do you care what I think? You told me—”

“I know what I told you. And it was a lie. When you found me, I was sitting in my car trying to work up the courage to tell you that I didn’t want you around anymore.”

My eyes stung at the memory.

“No,” his hands went to my face. “Don’t cry. I’m going to explain everything to you. Will you sit with me now?”

I didn’t answer. I just moved onto the bed with him. I sat across from him and he held my hands again. His were warm as they trapped mine.

“I’m not quite sure where to start. So I’ll just pick a place. When I was kissing you,” he almost smiled, “I thought that was it. I thought all of the issues we had were gone. And then I realized something. When you tried taking my sweater off…I realized you would see. Somehow I never thought about that before. Stupid of me. Then it all hit me at once. What it would really mean for us to be together. How I’d need to be open. Vulnerable. I didn’t want that. The idea of laying everything out in front of me and having to trust another person, it terrified me. All I could do was leave.”

“What did you not want me to see?”

He held my hands tighter before he let go. “I was planning on telling you about that today.”

“Was?”

“Am. I am going to tell you.”

The fear in his eyes was obvious. Whatever this was, it was a lot for him to let me in on. He was worried, like I was, about trusting someone.

He put his hands on the bottom of his sweater and pulled it over his head. I looked down at his arms and had to actively stop myself from gasping. Each were covered in scars. Some deep and some shallow. They were every size you could think of and absolutely everywhere. Many of them disappeared under the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing.

My hand ran over them and I realized what a few were. There were circles that were scattered all over. Some small and some much bigger. Burns from cigars and cigarettes.

“Is it worse than this?” I asked and he knew my meaning.

“Yes.” His hands hesitated when he started pulling his shirt off. When he did, my hand went to my mouth and quiet tears poured from my eyes.

His entire torso was covered in scars so much worse than the ones on his arms. More burns and more cuts. The very worst of what I saw was one long scar that ran diagonally down the center of his chest. It was about two inches thick and eight inches long.

“What happened to you?” I whispered.

He put his shirt back on and his hand went to my leg. He started picking at a loose strand of fabric on my dress. “My father was a troubled man. Even before my mother died, he wasn’t kind. But he didn’t start hitting me, until she was gone.”

My heart felt like it was going to stop beating. I was full of anger and grief and sorrow for him. If the man he was talking about was in my sights, I wouldn’t hesitate to snap his neck.

Hale continued. “I was only ten when she died. I was about to turn eleven when he first started hitting me. It was just that in the beginning. And it was just with me. It got worse after we moved. Mason left for college and I was alone with Ethan and our father. At first, he only hit me when he ran out of alcohol. And it was only when I annoyed him. That didn’t last long.”              He looked down at the scar on his wrist, the one I noticed the day I met him. “I got home from school and as soon as the door closed, he threw me against the wall. Thankfully Ethan was at his friend’s house. He didn’t have to see. My father threw me around for a while. He threw me against my bed and the frame broke. The metal ripped through my shirt and,” he didn’t finish talking but he pointed to his chest. “When I tried running he decided that he needed to punish me for it. So he shoved me against the counter and pulled out a stake knife. He did this,” he held his wrist out.

“A few years later,” he went on, “When I was fourteen, I stayed after school without telling him. It was just trying to avoid going home. But when I did, he…did what he did.” I think he was sparing me the details for my benefit, not his. “And he did this,” he pointed to the scar on his throat. “That one bled a lot. If Ethan didn’t find me, I would have…” He shook his head. “I told him I fell.”

“Why?” I made an astonished and tearful sound. “Why wouldn’t you tell some one? Mason, a teacher? Anyone? Why would you keep that a secret?”

He stared at my bed. “Dad told me if I did then they would take Ethan and put him in foster care. He said that bad things would happen to him. So I took the trade. Bad things happening to me so they wouldn’t happen to him. I’m his big brother. I’m meant to protect him. Dad never touched him, so I let it be. I could handle getting hit if I was the only one.”

I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn’t figure out how to process what I was hearing. How this boy went through this and still remained sweet and kind.

“But Ethan knows now?”

“They all do. There’s a story for every scar, but I don’t think I want to see the look on your face as I cause you more pain. So I’ll wrap up my story.”

I put my hands on his face. “Tell me anything that you want to. Don’t worry about me.”

He held my shaking hand to his heart. “The very last time he ever hit me, I was sixteen. Barely. Ethan was only twelve. I was the only one my father ever beat, but I came home late. And Ethan was there instead of me.” My heart stopped beating as I tried to will the past to change so this wouldn’t have happened. “When I got home he was already hurting Ethan. He had had him against the wall and he was slamming his head into it. And Ethan was crying, begging him to stop. He didn’t understand why he was hurting him. I pulled my father off of him and he went insane. When he went after Ethan again, I stopped him.”

I asked a question that I was fairly sure of the answer. “How?”

He swallowed and looked me in the eyes. “I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first knife I saw. His hands were still around Ethan’s throat and I sank the knife into his stomach. And I wretched it up.”

Good. It was the only thought in my head. Good. The bastard was dead and gone. Far from anyone he can hurt. And I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he was in Hell right now. Hopefully getting special treatment from my father.

“He let go of Ethan and dropped to the ground. He was bleeding so quickly. I thought about calling an ambulance the second it happened. But I waited. I wanted him dead. I was looking into his eyes when he took his last breath. Then I made the call. I killed my father in front of my brother. A child. He watched the man die and it was all my fault when it destroyed him.”

Reflexively I wrapped my arms around Hale’s neck. “You were keeping him safe. You saved him.”

“I ruined him,” he pressed his forehead against my shoulder.

“You didn’t. He’s a good kid. He’s just a little troubled. It’s nothing he can’t get past. He’s trying, and he’s doing well.”

“I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I just didn’t want to ruin you too. And I wanted to save myself. I didn’t want to watch the horror on your face as I told you what I was.”

I pulled him back so I could look into his eyes. “You did a brave thing. I don’t feel any different about you than I did before.” I paused. “Wait. That’s not true. I know you better now. And I know the kind of man you are. You’re a good person. You’re strong and you protect the people you love. I can see who you are and you’re amazing, Hale.”

“I’m a killer,” everything about him read bleak. I wanted to fix it. “I’m a psycho.”

That felt like a kick to the chest. I called him that when I was angry. I didn’t mean the words even as I was saying them. And he believed me. I might not ever be able to fix that.

“No you’re not. You’re wonderful and you’re strong and I—” Oh fuck. I knew what I was about to say. Did he? Judging by his face I’d say no. He had no clue I was in love with him. “You are the very best person I know. For everything you’ve done for the people you love.”

“I let him die, Rory. And you know how I handled it? I started drinking daily, downing pills. Using girls. The only reason I live here is because my aunt couldn’t handle it anymore. We went to live with her and it took less than two years for our behavior to get her to ship us out here to Mason and Mollie.”

“It was a lot for someone your age to go through. It’s not your fault that you didn’t know how to handle it.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, like he was trying to erase memories. “Can I tell you a story about my mother?”

“Of course.”

“When I was a little boy I used to be frightened of thunder. Where I grew up, it was very stormy. So as you can imagine, I had to deal with that fear a lot. But after a few incidences of waking up my mother in the middle of the night, she found a solution. When it was storming out, she would put Ethan to bed and she would sit up with me in my bedroom watching movies until I fell asleep. The first time, she left when I fell asleep. I woke up alone in the dark and I panicked at how profoundly alone I felt. It was like I was the only one in the world. I cried and my mother came back. She soothed me and I calmed down. She made a promise that I’d never be without her. Because even when she was gone, she was in my heart. She said that when I was born, I got half of her heart. Ethan got the other half. Mason was never much for such sentiment, so my mother had another tale for him. She said she gave her heart to us so that we’d always be connected. She gave me her locket. It was in the shape of a heart. It was to remind me when I forgot.”

I saw pain and happiness in his eyes as he spoke about her. I was just starting to understand just how much losing her made him lose himself.

“So,” he went on. “She started leaving me notes when I fell asleep. Little things to remind me that I wasn’t alone. I still have them. They’re all in a box in my bedroom. Anyway, one of these nights we watched Finding Nemo. I hated the movie. Who in their right mind starts a movie with the death of hundreds of baby fish?”

I laughed through tears.

“There was this one line in the movie that stuck with me. That little blue fish. What was her name?”

“Dory,” I smiled.

“Dory. She was talking to the other fish and she was begging him not to leave her. While she was pleading she said ‘I look at you and I’m home’. And I knew what that felt like. Whenever I was scared, or I felt alone, all I needed was my mother and I was okay again. Then she was just gone. I didn’t have her and I didn’t feel like I had a home.”

My tears were still quiet but they were falling more and more every second he spoke.

“Then we moved to America. The feeling only got worse, for obvious reasons. All I had of my mother other than a few pictures was her locket. I tried so hard to be numb and nothing was working. It all kept coming back and it was only getting worse. Then I met you.”

He swept his thumb under my eye and caught some of the tears that were falling. “Things felt different then. Every day when I saw you again, I’d feel…different. Better and worse at the same time. My eyes would fall on you and I wouldn’t feel lost anymore. I’d feel home again. It was both familiar and new. Then I went and ruined it all. I didn’t want my darkness to destroy your light. So I tried chasing you away. And it worked. I was alone again and I couldn’t see past the darkness anymore. Everything felt incredibly pointless. I just wanted to feel home again. I’m so sorry that my selfishness won’t let me free you, but I’m not sure I can survive being alone anymore. I don’t want to try. I wish I cared about you enough to leave forever and not look back.”