Broken: Book 1 of the Scars and Sorrow Saga (5 page)

Ten minutes later we arrive at the neighboring town’s drive-in. It’s nearing dusk as we cruise into the grassy area to find a prime spot to park. He pulls his truck away from others in the corner of the lot.

“Come on. Let’s go grab some food then we can set up to watch the movie.”

I admire his grin, it seems real. I’m trying not to have expectations, but a girl like me yearns to feel wanted and accepted. I nod and then he takes his hand in mine, leading me to the concession stand. He orders two popcorns, soda pops, and a Hershey bar for us to split. My subconscious is yelling at me, telling me not to give into the snack.
Your hips will only get wider. Your stomach definitely doesn’t need that kind of food. Don’t eat it, fatty.
I try to push the horrendous thoughts aside, but I can’t. I can only learn to make them bearable. I don’t want the anxiety to show because I am trying my best to have a good time.

After placing the blankets over the metal bed of his truck, he helps me to the back. It’s now dark outside and the film lights roar to life. I know he chose a scary one on purpose, most boys do this to try to get a girl to snuggle into them. Maybe I will allow myself to do that, but movies like this don’t scare me, especially after the nightmares I have already lived through.

An hour later, I’m tasting his lips and tongue as they are brushing against mine. I feel okay about this. It seems alright and I’m enjoying it so far. I feel the aching between my legs that is yearning to be touched. His hands find their way under my shirt. He pulls his lips abruptly away from mine as his fingers graze the raised scars on my stomach. His brows furrow and the look of uncertainty bathes his once genuine features.

“You should probably take me home. I’m sorry about this, really…” I trail.

“I’m not. I’m not sorry at all. Are you okay?” he asks.

I’m confused, but I respond, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good, can I kiss you again?”

I nod my head yes and he continues his previous movements, the burning of fire between my legs comes back stronger than before.
I’m not supposed to feel this way, am I? What is this? What is this ache anyway?

He pulls my tank top down and exposes the white lace of my bra.
Thank God he didn’t yank my top up and see my belly. It’s bad enough that he felt it. I know that he did.
His hands gently squeeze my imperfect breasts and our eyes meet. He frees my breast and takes it into his mouth. Memories flood my mind and cloud my enjoyment. Davis will always have me, like he said. I will always be his. I am ruined for any other.

I blink back tears and try to embrace the moment, being loved (or so I thought) by a star football player that never treated me badly before. His hands make their way up my thighs and before I have time to realize, my skirt is hiked up and my panties are down.

“Do you want this? I mean we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Nathan says, nervously trying to adjust himself in his khaki cargo shorts.

“I want to.”

It’s true. I do want to. I want to feel desired, beautiful, accepted, and wanted. I haven’t felt this before, and deep down inside I know I am only taking ten steps back. He seems so real and caring, but my gut is telling me that he isn’t. Maybe that is Davis’ actions taking control over my happiness, or perhaps it’s the pessimistic view that will always be engrained in my brain. I’ve never been able to see the bright side of things, but who can blame me considering what I have endured so far, and I am only eighteen-years-old.

“Will anyone see us?” I whisper.

“Don’t you worry, darling. I won’t let anyone see us,” he whispers back, showing me that smile of his that makes me burn with need.

I shake my head yes and he pulls his shorts down after retrieving a condom from his pocket. My eyes widen when I have a full look at him. He rolls it onto himself and situates his hips between my legs. He slides himself inside and sighs with appreciation.

Is it always going to hurt?

His lips meet mine once more and his movements become faster. Within minutes, his body stills as he enjoys his release.

Pain and three minutes, what is the hype about sex anyway?

He pulls out of me and offers me a kiss on the cheek. I put my panties back on as he dresses himself. We sit in an awkward silence for the remainder of the night.

He holds my hand as we drive home and as he pulls into my long driveway he begins his speech.

“Look, Lyla, I really like you and all, but senior year is hella busy for me with school and football. And I just broke up with Betsy last month. Can we keep this between us? Like our secret. I still want to see you when I have time.”

I knew it, I should’ve trusted my instincts. I failed myself again, and clearly I am not good enough to be wrapped around his arm while walking down the halls at school. I don’t meet the standards to be considered his girl or wear his letter jacket during sport seasons. Why did I allow myself to do this? Why? One awful word that will always have the upper hand with me…
failure.

Homecoming night used to be fun for me. The week prior was full of themed days at school, one being camo day which was everyone’s favorite. Students and teachers paint their faces and dress in crazy school colors on Spirit Day. I wasn’t in tune with it this year. I hadn’t been since sophomore year when Garett was a senior. He was the star football player and those were times when people didn’t fuck with me.

Davis has continued to keep his distance and Nathan calls me at random times to meet him behind the basketball stadium at school, only when it is dark and no one can find us. He tells me what I want to hear when we are together, that I am beautiful in my own
”
way
”
and that if the timing was right, we would be able to have a proper relationship. I give into his lines every time. When he kisses me and runs his fingers through my hair while whispering how good I feel, it yields the gap that is in my heart, but only for a short while.

The moments that follow our meetings make me feel a million times worse. Those seconds are when he won’t look at me while he’s dressing himself and discarding the condom. He doesn’t say much afterwards either, except that he will call me. But he won’t ever call me to talk to me and ask me how my day went. He doesn’t chat with me to find out what my plans are for the weekend because I am not good enough to attend the parties or go to the movies with the “it” group. I don’t meet those standards until he is bored and horny, and at that time I become just “good enough”. I’m tired of that. I want to be more than that, I want to be someone’s…

Why can’t I be the girl that is posing proudly for a Christmas Dance photo or the one that goes to dinner with her boy’s parents, allowing them to dote on her about how wonderful she is? That isn’t me and it won’t ever be me. I just need to accept it and break the cycle with Nathan, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I am not strong enough. He senses my vulnerability and takes advantage of it. I allow it, so I am just as much the culprit as he is.

I relent to my mother’s pleas and agree to go to the Homecoming football game with her and Rick. Yeah, I am the teen who goes to games with her parents on a Friday night when the others are getting ready and adding black and red sparkles to their eyes with painted numbers on their faces of their boyfriends’ jersey number. That isn’t me…

I go dressed in a Rigdon High T-shirt and sit at the home team section next to all the mothers chanting loudly with their ringing cowbells. I hear screams of disproval when the ref makes a call against one of their sons and hoorays when they score. It’s rather annoying, but I am trying to compromise with my mother. After all, it is only six months until the ball and chain is released from me and I start the new life that I long for. A life away from Rigdon where no one knows my past and isn’t going to judge me for rumors that they heard at the café. People in Chicago won’t be privy to the cloud of dismay that has followed me for years. I will just be another girl at Loyola trying to start anew. I don’t plan on ever looking back when I leave this place either.

The boys pull off a victory. They rush off the field, smiling at the praise from the crowd and into the tunnel to shower and change before they head to their trucks and waiting girlfriends. They will then go and drink off of one of the many back roads in Shelton County and talk about the biggest play of the night. The boys will pull pranks on one another while the girls laugh in an annoying high-pitched cackle.

I start to make my way down the bleachers, but Betsy stops me. Yes, the Betsy Snyder that once had Nathan’s heart, the same boy that takes me weekly behind the stadium after dark. My heart sinks. I hope she doesn’t know anything. That would add fuel to a fire that doesn’t need to be out of control.

“Lyla, hey.”

“Hey, Betsy.”

“Good game, huh?” she asks.

What the fuck is this small talk about?

“Look, the girls and I are headed to the café and wanted to know if you would like to come along.”

My mother nudges me. Damn, there isn’t a way I can get out of this. I know it bothers Momma that I am not a social butterfly like her other kids. I suppose I can get through one night for her, especially if it makes her smile.

“Okay, I will meet you there,” I say.

“Great!” she says while clapping her hands together playfully.

She’s an idiot. I look over at my mom, less than pleased with my agreement.

“It will do you some good to get out of the house, baby. All you do is read and study. It will be fun!” she chimes.

I hope.

Thirty minutes later I am sitting at a table of obnoxious girls hearing their remarks about how hot all the boys looked in their uniforms. I smile when appropriate, but remain quiet sipping on a glass of soda pop.

“What about you, Lyla?” asks a girl from the end of the table.

Her southern drawl is so thick, I have to take a second to process what she just said.

“Come again?” I ask.

“Who is your crush right now?” she asks.

“No one.”

“Come on… you’re not a lesbo are you? You must be if you don’t think any boys are cute…”

“Of course I’m not,” I interject.

What a bitch! I knew this was how the evening would pan out. I try to shield myself from the comments that will come, but I am still a wounded little bird. I’d be lying if I said that their words and rulings don’t hurt me.

“Who then?” she presses.

“I don’t have a crush, but I think Nathan Wilcox is cute.”

Betsy stares at me, and if looks could kill I would be dead. It’s inevitable to be attracted to him, any girl would be lying if she said she wasn’t. Girls make up most of our class, so it’s only normal for the boys to bounce around between friends. Lyla Elizabeth Harper isn’t one of the girls, though. It’s at that inkling in time that I know this gathering was premeditated.

“You know, Betsy, I have seen Lyla’s car and Nathan’s truck parked in the lot by the stadium several times. I wonder if she is fucking around with him behind your back.”

“What? No, I wouldn’t,” I say, trying to convince the army of girls surrounding me.

“Makes sense. He’s been off the past few months,” seethes Betsy.

Before I have time to think about the words that are streaming from my mouth, it is too late.

“He broke up with you, Betsy. Get over yourself.”

I try to stand to leave and feel a tight grip around my upper arm.

“Don’t think you are going anywhere, you stupid skank,” fumes Betsy.

“Fuck off,” I say, before yanking my arm free.

I try hurrying out the doors to my car, but I hear the clicks of their cowboy boots, and yes, heels, on the surface of the blacktop. As I insert my key into the lock of my old Toyota Corolla, I feel a sting of pain on the back of my head. And then another. Before I have time to defend myself, I am curled up on the ground, covering my face from their punches.

“Fuck with him again, it will be worse next time,” says Betsy, before spitting on me and walking away.

I should’ve known that their intentions were not wholehearted. Again, my need for acceptance is my own worst enemy. I wait until I am certain that they are gone and stand to get into my car. I see the bright royal blue truck pull into the lot next to Betsy’s Honda Accord. Nathan steps out and eyes me carefully, his gaze apologizing without words. It doesn’t matter, the destruction has been completed. The girl that is good enough for him jumps into his arms and presses her lips to his.

My tears well up in my eyes as I enter my car to drive away. The urge snakes up my spine and I’m finding it impossible not to head to Concord Street to grab a pint from Bill. I need to be numb again. The cruel world has shown its angry side once again, and I am at the brunt of its evil. Please God, help me forget. Take away this pain.

It’s ten at night and I am sitting in the vacant parking lot at the liquor store. My feelings are in a heated battle with one another. One side is telling me that it isn’t worth it and to deal with the shit for a few more months before I start over in Chicago. The other side is telling me to feed into my sorrow, because quite frankly it is the easier route… to give into the dimness.

I pull out the hidden pack of Parliament Lights in my glove box and retrieve the pink Bic lighter from my console. Out of habit I reach under the passenger seat only to find nothing. I don’t feel the brown paper bag beneath my grasp and I make the choice to go inside after I finish my stag to get a pint of Dark Eyes Vodka, hit a desolate back road, and drink myself into a stupor.

I take two more long drags from my cigarette, exhaling the smoke and making perfect circles in the air. I blow them away and toss my butt into the parking lot. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the moments that are before me. I see Bill’s car in the parking lot, a comfort knowing that I will soon flavor the liquor on the taste buds that are going through their withdrawal.

I open the door and I am greeted by the familiar thick fog of cigarette smoke and the country tunes blaring from the aged radio on the counter. I see his figure coming out of the back stock room. A smile spreads across his crooked face. My heart flutters as I see his mouth opening to speak.