We Were Ghosts--The Secret Life of a Survivor Page 11

  I nodded and put my arms around his neck. I hugged him and put my head against his shoulder, as I should have done earlier. It was easier to hug him in the safety of the bright light of the hallway than in the intimate dim lighting in the gym.

  He lightly put his arms around me, just as he had done in the woods. He kissed the top of my head and slowly let go of me.

  Taking a deep breath, I looked around to make sure that no one was gossiping about us. “Have I ruined the night, or do you think we can pretend to be normal for the rest of the dance?” I said, hoping that we could restart the evening.

  The sparkle answered the question for me. He held out his hand and pulled me toward the dance floor, motioning for Megan, Kris, and Jill to join us. For the rest of the night, we jumped around to every fast song that played and acted stupid, just as we were supposed to. During the one remaining slow song, Zack stood about six inches away from me, and held the sides of my waist. We danced to, “The Flame” by Cheap Trick and it was everything I hoped it would be. He was with me and I was with him.

  Chapter 11

  The evening ended with me running from the dance like Cinderella at the end of the ball, though I kept my shoes on. I briefly explained to Zack that I couldn’t be seen with him, which he understood. I didn’t get my kiss, but I was okay with that. We had taken a major step forward in our relationship. We had confirmed that we had a relationship. I had a hard time containing my excitement, until I saw Phil’s car in the parking lot.

  I said goodbye to my friends and switched off every emotion that I possessed. I tucked away everything that had happened and shut the door on my school life.

  Reality crashed down on me the second he opened his mouth. “Why do you smell like cologne?”

  I resisted the urge to sniff myself. I probably smelled more like sweat socks and wet paper towels than Zack’s mild cologne, so I ignored the accusation. I stared out the window and drifted off to a place where I couldn’t hear his unending questions and presumptions. When he started yelling, I was forced to snap out of my daze. He must have really believed that I was with someone for him to lose his temper. He usually traversed down an eerie, calm path and spoke with purpose, which made him sound more like a serial killer than a crazy mass-murderer.

  “What do you want me to say? You won’t listen to the truth regardless of what I say. You already have all the answers,” I retorted. As long as he was getting his way, I was allowed to yell back. Once my mother was asleep, he knew I had no escape, so I could say whatever I wanted. It was only when we were in public and he had his reputation to worry about, or worse, when my mother was within earshot that I was not allowed to say something snide. She would question why we were fighting.

  He pulled the car over and curbed it on someone’s front lawn. For the first time I was afraid of him. I had no idea what was wrong with him, but I considered bolting from the car until he hit the power locks in his fancy car.

  “Stop lying to me!” he yelled. His breath was heaving and his eyes were wild. He grabbed the steering wheel and clenched his fists around it.

  “What do you want?” I asked as my voice cracked. I didn’t want to admit to him that I was afraid, but my body was trembling.

  He glared at me. He looked angry enough to hit me. I suddenly understood why Zack didn’t stand up to his father. The crazy look in Phil’s eyes made him unpredictable and my instinct was to run.

  “I want you to admit the truth! Admit that there is a boy! I know what I saw at Megan’s party. No matter how much you lie to me, I won’t believe you!” he sneered.

  I relaxed a tiny bit since Phil was working off incorrect information. He believed I was with Mitch from the party. I wanted to roll my eyes at his horrible sleuthing skills, but thought better of it.

  “Tell me what you want me to say and I will say it,” I said indifferently as I released my strangle hold on the strap over the window.

  He leaned over and got right in my face. “Tell me that you are sleeping with someone else!” he yelled.

  My confused expression was apparently not what he wanted to see. He popped the button on my seatbelt and grabbed my arm.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled, trying to push him away.

  “Punishing you for lying to me!” he screamed as he blocked my flailing arms and snaked his arm around my back. Before I could tell up from down, he had me pinned over his lap and the steering console and he was spanking me.

  I cried for him to stop hitting me, but he was beyond listening. I tried to push myself away from him, but his elbow dug into my back. I had no idea how this was going to satisfy his need for the truth, but I was helpless to defend myself, unless I wanted to leave marks on him, giving him a reason to get me in trouble with my mother, or the police.

  “Do you think I’m blind? I see your dress and your makeup. You certainly didn’t dress up like this for me, so I want to know who this dress is for!” he yelled as the hitting continued.

  I made incoherent noises as I sobbed, unable to give him any kind of answer. I could have told him what he wanted to hear, but I knew it would make things ten times worse. I bit my lip and refused to speak.

  I had no idea how long the spanking lasted since I eventually phased out when my skin started to burn. When I was roughly placed back into my seat, I wasn’t in my body. I was on a beach somewhere watching the seagulls play in the wind current and hover over the water. I was in my safe place.

  That night, unfortunately, wasn’t any better. He was rougher than usual and I had bruises the next morning. I stayed in bed most of Saturday claiming that I was sick.

  When my mother tried to coax me out of bed, I pulled the covers over my head and blocked out the world.

  I hated him. I hated myself. I hated everything. I couldn’t even think about the dance or Zack. I wanted to evaporate into the air and disappear forever.

  By Monday morning, my 48-hour flu had passed and I recovered enough to go to school. Stepping over the threshold and into the main lobby, I breathed in the first real breath I had taken since leaving the dance. I wanted to pretend that I was invisible. I would be a ghost who roamed the halls, forever stuck in one place. I would be no one, having never existed. Sadly, I had two tests and a report to hand in.

  I avoided my locker and stayed in the bathroom until the bell rang. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Everyone would be talking about how great the dance was and telling the people who couldn’t go what they had missed. All the gossip would be replayed. Heather might even confide in her friends about our incident, if she had the guts.

  I wanted to laugh with my friends and see Zack, but the sting on my backside and the sore spots from the bruises were a constant reminder that I was not a part of this place. I occupied space here, but I didn’t have the luxury of interacting with others. I had to keep my walls firmly in place until I could sort out the pain and humiliation I had enduring during the last 48 hours. I wished that I could go home and go back to bed, but I couldn’t be there. It wasn’t my home. It wasn’t a safe place.

  Wiping my hands across my face, I decided where I needed to go tonight.

  When questioned by Megan and Kris as to where I was during the weekend, I told them that I’d been under the weather and was still off kilter. They accepted my lie and gave me their sympathy. Later, I ditched lunch and went to the office, unable to look Zack in the eye.

  Knocking on the Guidance Counselor’s door, she told me to come in and sit down. Today, we were supposed to go over my options for college and review my grades, though I had come in earlier than expected.

  Mrs. Kern was a nice lady who believed that children could follow their hopes and dreams. She was an optimist and I hated her for it. I’d had multiple meetings with her over the years to go over my schedule or to talk about random school-related activities. She was kind and had a convincing smile, but part of me resented her for not seeing my perpetual sadness.

  “Well, your grades look good, and as long as you do we
ll on your SATs, you should be on track to go to your top choices of colleges. I will need to speak to your parents about financial aid and scholarships, but you have the grades. My only concern is your lack of activities. Every year, smart students are passed over because they don’t have many extracurricular activities. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you. Colleges are looking for well-rounded students,” she explained, looking down at her manila folder containing my school records.

  I bit my nail and tried to restrain my thoughts on the Deans of Admissions and their unwillingness to understand the restrictions of abused teens. Not everyone had the energy to be on the cheer squad or the flexibility to join clubs where they might possibly talk to boys. I tapped my foot and once again cursed Phil. I refused to jeopardize my future escape plans, so I had to do something to fix this. I needed to be accepted to a college far enough away so that I didn’t have to come home—ever.

  “What are my options for joining clubs or activities? What looks good on a college entrance form that I can do in the next year and a half?” I asked, attempting not to sound snarky.

  She pulled out a planner next to her desk and thumbed through it. “You can always join the Spanish Club since this is your third year in the language. They only meet once in a while, but it still counts. They have a party during Parent’s Night. You’ll have to bring a dish,” she said, wetting her thumb and turning the page. She peered over her half-moon glasses at the next event.

  I shrugged. I could handle making flan. Check the box for Spanish Club.

  “There’s yearbook, which your friend Jill is on. They could always use help,” she suggested.

  I nodded. I could help Jill. She was always talking about how she needed more photos for the yearbook. I liked the idea of making sure there were a few photos of me displayed in the yearbook.

  “I suppose sports are out of the question, unless you have any interest in winter or spring sports,” she muttered, handing me a sheet of paper.

  My eyes scanned the list, snorting when I saw golf listed. I stopped when I saw bowling. I enjoyed it as a rule and I knew it didn’t require a ton of skill. I was acquainted with two of the other kids on the team and had overheard them saying that there was no real tryouts to speak of. If you wanted to join, you were pretty much set.

  “I can bowl, or rather, I like to bowl. My Algebra teacher is the coach. I can talk to him,” I shrugged.

  “Good, good,” she said making a note in my file.

  She continued to run through the list of available clubs until I had a few options to choose from. I thanked her and headed off to Health.

  I felt a little better about my future after talking with Mrs. Kern, so I wasn’t as grumpy when I saw Zack sitting in his seat. I handed my hall pass to Scott, who didn’t bother looking at it before tossing it on his desk.

  “You okay? I thought you might have gone home sick,” Zack whispered as I sat down.

  I nodded and gave him a small smile.

  Sitting so close to him made my nerves unravel. Never once did I consider breaking up with Zack, no matter what Phil subjected me to during the weekend. Now, looking at him from the corner of my eye, I wondered if it was really worth it. I didn’t want to give up on having a life, but the stress of lying and hiding my feelings for him was hard to deal with. If Phil ever found out about Zack, the punishment would be worse than anything I had ever experienced in my life.

  I put my arms on my desk and rested my chin on them. I listened to Scott talk about trauma to the body and how people went into shock when severely injured. The injured person was supposed to lay down and put their feet up. CPR was to be administered as needed. Once their injuries were treated, they were supposed to be wrapped in a blanket and reassured. After that, they were supposed to follow up with a trip to the hospital.

  I felt like I was in shock, but I didn’t think putting my feet up would help, though a blanket would be nice. I assumed emotional trauma was a little different. I felt like nothing was real. Everything was far away and I felt disconnected. It was a familiar feeling having experienced it for years, but this time it was different. Looking at Zack, I knew what was different. The other times I had felt like this, I hadn’t been with Zack. I hadn’t had any hope in my life. He gave me a reason to fight, but this time I felt tired. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fight anymore.

  At the end of the class, Zack leaned over and smiled at me. “Promise me you’ll meet me in the woods after school. I know it’s supposed to rain, but I need to talk to you,” he said quietly. His expression was light and almost playful. It was the exact opposite of how I felt.

  I nodded, but didn’t respond. My lack of enthusiasm didn’t dampen his mood. He winked at me and left the room.

  By the time I got home, I just wanted to crawl into bed and forget everything that had happened since Friday. Tossing my backpack in the corner of the foyer, I headed toward the stairs until I remembered that I was supposed to see Zack.

  Grabbing my obnoxiously bright pink waterproof jacket and a thick blue sweater to put under it, I headed off into the backyard. It had started to sprinkle on my way home, but it hadn’t gotten any worse. The ground was still dry, so I didn’t have to worry about tracking in any mud.

  I made it to my log and looked around. I was alone, which made me feel even more depressed. I wondered if Zack had been held up by his father. When I heard a screen door slam, I knew he was on his way.

  I stepped up on top of the log, wanting to be taller for some reason. I didn’t want to be small or feel helpless. It was a strange thing to do, but I didn’t care.

  Zack jogged through the woods and smiled when he saw me. Sadly, even the sparkle couldn’t pull me out of my depression.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said, looking up at me.

  “You asked, so I came,” I replied indifferently.

  He held out his hand, but I didn’t take it. Instead, I stared at it, contemplating what I wanted to do. Taking his hand would be simple, but holding on to it was a different story. Holding his hand implied that I was willing to fight against the current and rebel. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to do it.

  He let his hand drop to his side and he frowned. “I was afraid of this,” he replied so softly I wasn’t sure I’d heard him properly.

  I stared blankly at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

  “I knew he would hurt you and try to break you. Right now, you look like the world chewed you up and spit you out. You aren’t even angry, you’re empty,” he said matter-of-factly. He sounded as if he’d been through something similar.

  “I was already broken,” I said disdainfully. “I just pretended like I wasn’t.” My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears.

  He let out a long breath. “Even though I may not have acknowledged you when you were putting ice on my back, I knew you were there. I was grateful that you were there. I’ve been alone for so long. I don’t want to be alone anymore. As much as I didn’t want you to see me like that, I felt better having you there. I want to be there for you. I need to be there. I won’t let him shove you into this hole. I won’t let him break you,” he said, his voice filling with anger and determination.

  Though I heard what he was saying, my heart felt like it was made of ice. I had truly shutdown and it was easier this way. It felt better than the rage and fear I experienced during the weekend. I preferred to be numb than in constant pain.

  “There isn’t anything you can do,” I said resentfully.

  He looked at me with compassion in his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I don’t know if it’s worth it to break the rules anymore,” I said indifferently.

  He looked down at the ground and nodded. “I felt like that when I saw you at my backdoor after my father left to go to the liquor store. I’m not supposed to talk about how screwed up my family is. My mother has warned me plenty of times to keep my mouth shut. What would people think of us? What would my father do if someone
found out about his drinking and his anger issues? He provides for the family, so he’s allowed to take out his stress as he sees fit—that’s always my favorite excuse. I could have sent you away that night, I should have, but I didn’t want to. You are the only thing that makes me smile in the morning. You’re the reason I get out of bed. I can’t wait to see you, even if it’s for a few minutes. Things are better since I met you. If I haven’t said that before, then I’m sorry. I’m not used to telling people how I feel,” he said, attempting to draw me out of my shell.

  “He pulled the car over after the dance and spanked me over his knee,” I said as my anger finally surfaced.

  He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth. “He did what?”

  I shook my head. “That wasn’t the worst of it, Zack.” I lifted the side of my jacket and sweater to show him the bruises along my sides, the bruises from being held too tightly.

  His mouth fell open and I saw the rage in his eyes.

  I lowered my jacket and crossed my arms. I needed him to see why I was giving up.

  “I’m sorry. Had I known, I would have never agreed to go to the dance with you,” he whispered.

  Hearing him say that he wouldn’t have gone to the dance with me shattered something inside. I was too screwed up to deal with dating someone. My life was too complicated. I wanted to storm away and scream at the world. I wanted to tear things apart and punch things, but something made me stop. I could see the sorrow in his eyes when he realized that he couldn’t help me. He couldn’t stop any of this. How could I be the reason he got up in the morning when I didn’t want to get out of bed myself? As much as I wanted to be there for him, I couldn’t be there for myself.