Beyond Repair (Broken Girl Book 1) (15 page)

Tears begin to fall from her eyes, "She held me for ages in that fucking classroom. She cried with me, told me everything was going to be okay and that she’d help me through it. I didn't want anyone to know, and I made her promise to never tell. She said she'd keep my secret if I promised to never let him near me again. Before we could leave, he came back. He had Mayor Baker with him. Our Beloved Mayor wanted to make sure that this would never be spoken of. I don't know the full story there, a lot of it is Lydia's to tell but he was adamant that no one find out about it. When he threatened me, Lydia lost it. She said she was going to tell the world just how fucked up he is, that she’d tell the entire town her their Mayor really was. He'd already called you at this point to come and pick me up so I didn’t hear what she meant exactly but it was enough to have her dad turning beet red. He knew Lydia had some issues, probably due to the way he treated her at home. He played on them, I could see it in his eyes that night. He pushed every button she had and caused her to have a complete meltdown in front of everyone in the parking lot. I'm sure you remember it."

I nod. I could never forget that night. Lydia looked wild as she fought with her father that night. 

"Well, he had her committed that night. I didn't hear from her for almost two weeks. She'd been sent to some bum-fuck town in the middle of nowhere, but she managed to send me a letter. In it, she promised me that she'd never tell my secret," she huffs in annoyance. "I let her. I let her bury it despite knowing it was tearing her life apart. If I'd just told, confessed everything, then she'd never have been stuck in that place. She could have come home. That hospital made her worse, heightened her disorders because she was all alone. I did that to her, Callum. Me. I fucking ruined my best friend because I was too scared to take him on."

This is a lot of information to process. I can't fully register anything but anger. Pure, unadulterated rage is burning hot inside me right now and I have no clue on how to diffuse it. It swirls around, mixing with the black tar of guilt already buckling my bones.

"Who was it, Kate?" I ask, but I already know.

It all makes sense now. All of it. That night, Kate, Lydia, today – all of it makes sense. I can see it clear as fucking day. She’s right. Lydia is right. I’ve been conditioned, raised to never look past the obvious and see the truth. Now I can’t help myself thinking,
what else have I missed?

Kate sniffs a little, "I can't tell you until I know you're not going to go postal. I need this to stay buried, Callum. I can't have all of this out there now we have a baby coming. Promise me."

"I can't do that. He shouldn't get to walk around the streets like nothing's happened."

"Callum, please," she's begging me, her voice breaking as sobs rack through it.

I turn to Joe. How can he be okay with this? How has he not torn this fucker apart?

"I know what you're thinking, Cal. Trust me on this; I’ve been there. Think about Kate, think about what this will do to her. Think about what it will do to Kate
and
Lydia."

I relent and nod, but I can't promise that will stay the case. If I see the sick bastard, then I'm likely to fucking kill him.

"Name," I grunt. "Tell me his name. Say it, Kate."

She releases a heavy sigh, her head falling back against the sofa.

"Officer Stanton."

Nothing.

I bang again at the door, calling her name. The only response I receive is the music from inside getting louder. She’s pissed, I get that. She has every right to be, I guess. If I was her, I wouldn’t want to speak to me either right now, but we have to fix this. The close bond we have built over the past few weeks has been shattered, torn apart to nothing and I only have myself to blame. I’m a fucking idiot.

“Lydia,” I shout. “Open the door please, Little Bit.”

Again I’m met with nothing. I drop to the floor and let my head bang against the door. She won’t answer my texts or calls, won’t open the door, won’t fucking acknowledge me at all. She avoids me at all cost. It’s been an entire week. A long ass week where I’ve felt like I’m missing a limb. I didn’t realize just how much a part of my daily life she’s become. There have been so many times over the past week that I’ve wanted to just chill with her. I’m plagued with constant thoughts of her, wondering how she is and what she’s doing. I’ve hoped to catch her at Kate’s but she hasn’t been round. Kate comes here to her now. It’s hopeless and I don’t even know why I’m trying anymore. Now I’m lying to myself. I know exactly what this is. It’s the guilt, the knowledge that this is all my fault. I hurt her, and that rips me apart in ways I can’t even describe.

Reluctantly, I pull myself back up and bang once again on the door.

Nothing.

Well this is awkward. And tense,
really
fucking tense. Ever since Kitty’s confession two weeks ago, she’s been hell bent on putting us all back together again. So here I am, thanks to being best friends with a sadist, in a fucking bowling alley on a Friday night. Why on earth she thinks putting seven people who don’t even really like each other in one big room, with heavy balls to use for weapons too is a good idea is a mystery to me. I mean,
really?
Especially considering that we’re all pissed at each other. I glance around at the unhappy faces and almost laugh. The conversation within our group is stilted, forced and I’m getting relatively bored of pretending to give a shit. Honestly, I don’t particularly give a fuck if I never speak to four of these people ever again. I was perfectly fine with just Kate and Joe before, I’ll be perfectly fine again now. There are several places I’d rather be right now than here, one of them being Satan’s fucking dinner table. Tensions between us all have been high since I was arrested, and wasn’t
that
just the best day ever?

We’re all pissed at each other for various reasons, silently seething and discreetly death glaring. Kate is pissed at Joe, because Joe is pissed at Callum. I’m pissed at Kate for caving and spilling her secret, meaning Callum isn’t pissed at me anymore. In fact, he’s so
un
-pissed that he’s been blowing up my cell with his apologies for the past two weeks.
Asshole.
I’m pissed at him, too, but that’s okay because he’s pissed at the entire town. I cast my gaze over to Cerys in the corner, a vicious scowl on her face. I guess she’s just pissed she’s stuck in the middle of all this. I‘d feel sorry for her if it wasn’t for the image of her unkempt vagina popping into my head everytime I look at her. That I could really do without. I wonder if I bought her a waxing kit she’d get the hint? Or is that too far? Maybe. I wish I could care. I’m just so fucking tired all the time.

Jake and Dale are here too, and they’ve gotta be pissed that none of their lame asses are getting laid any time soon. I look at the glass of water sitting on the table between us all and frown. I’m still on an alcohol ban because of my medication and it sucks. Tyde saved my ass from taking a small holiday to the City Jail, but now there is strictly no drinking, no skipping therapy sessions and definitely no punching officers of the law. Even if they are moronic. Saying that, these new pills have me wound so fucking tight that I’m not sure even alcohol could keep the nightmares away.

“Lyds, it’s your turn.”

I lift my gaze to Joe at the sound of his voice. He smiles, but it’s tight. He looks like he’d be happier if he found out he had herpes. Glad to see it’s not just me full of joy tonight.

“Faaaaaabulous,” I drawl, with faux enthusiasm.

I stand, casting an annoyed glance at the hideous shoes I’ve been forced into. A shudder runs through me as thoughts of all the other cretin creatures who could have worn these before me invade my mind. The pervy guy at the counter assured me his little magic spray bottle got rid of all the bad germs, but I don’t trust him for a second. He was wearing a ridiculous shirt with some preppy #YOLO slogan across the front. I just can’t respect the word of a guy like that.

I take longer than necessary to pick a bowling ball in a half-assed attempt to delay the task. Everything I do lately is half-assed. I can barely summon up the motivation needed to get my fine ass out of bed in a morning, and honestly, even that’s wavering.

A screech coming from the lane next to ours causes me to flinch and almost drop the bright pink bowling ball in my hands. I turn my head to the noise, frowning at the sight. They’re obviously on a date, by the way he’s staring after her in awe as she pretends she doesn’t want to kick his ass on the game by gently rolling the ball. More noise distracts me away, this time from the group of teens at the arcade games. Their laughter assaults my ears, the flashing lights of the machines aiding in the attack of my senses. I suck in a breath.
Please not now.
I can feel the fragments of my reality falling away from my psych, deserting me when I need it. My eyes begin to dart around me, the normal,
sane
girl inside me screaming to get out.
Keep it together.

“Are you going to bowl or what?” Dale asks from behind me.

A hand lands softly on my arm, and from the electricity shooting through my veins I know it’s Callum. His warmth turns my skin to ice instantly, the harshness of his words two weeks ago still vivid in my mind. It doesn’t matter how much he apologizes, he can’t take that back. I brush him off and turn to Dale. I force my best smile, letting my chest push out just a little. His eyes widen, the corner of his lip curling into what I think is supposed to be his ‘come fuck me now, wench’ look. It’s sort of terrifying, but I squash that urge and shift the bowling ball to one hand. With my now free hand, I twist my fingers into the candy pink tips of my hair.

“Actually, I was kinda hoping you’d bowl it for me,” I say, being sure to put forward my best dixie bimbo voice.

He eats it up like the special little moron he is and rushes over to be. I hand him the ball, press a feather light kiss to his cheek and stroll away from the group, grabbing my purse from the table. I give Kitty the universal ‘going to pee’ eye stare and head into the bathroom. Once inside I lock myself into a stall and slump down onto the toilet seat. At least it’s quiet in here. I dig in my purse for my pills and tip two into the palm of my hand. The usual wave of resentment and bitterness at myself swells in my stomach like a lead ball. I feel the strength of it, the weight of it suffocating me from the inside.

I stare at the little white drops as they silently mock me. They know, as well as the rest of the people around me, that I will always need them to survive. Being myself isn’t good enough. Being myself is wrong. Being myself causes the people I love to hurt, so I have to be this girl. I have to be the girl who walks around in a prescribed mood, whilst the real me stays locked up tight in her mental prison. I toss the pills to the back of my throat and wipe away the stray tear falling down my face.
I have to be strong.
I fix my make up and leave the bathroom, making my way back to our group.

“Oh well, here she comes. How about we ask her, huh? It seems that’s the only opinion anyone gives a shit about.”

I’m not sure how long I spent contemplating my life on the toilet, but all hell seems to have broken loose in my absence. I’m actually a little disappointed that they didn’t wait for me.

“I think you need to watch what you’re saying right now, Cerys. You might be my cousin’s girlfriend and I might be pregnant, but don’t think for a second I won’t kick your ass to Sunday and back.”

I drop myself into the seat next to Jack and watch as Kitty and Cerys face off. This is going to be the highlight of the night, I’m sure.

“My money's on Kitty,” I mumble.

Jack chuckles beside me, “I don’t know. I met Cerys when Callum first started dating her. She’s got manipulative bitch written all over her, and she can be psychotic.”

I raise my eyebrow in his direction, “Can’t we all. So what exactly did I miss?”

“Cerys made a comment about you being a hot mess.”

Figures.
She’s never really been Team Lyds. I don’t really know her all that well but I assume she holds a grudge about me walking in on her and Callum. Internally I shrug. I don’t have room in my already overcrowded mind for someone else to look down on me. I offer Jack a weak smile and fully turn to take in the show. At least she called me hot.

Joe is desperately trying to get Kate to back off and sit down, and Callum is doing the same with Cerys, but she’s too busy burning holes through my face with her amber eyes. Her stare makes me itch, makes me want to hurl myself out of the nearest building, but I hold it. I refuse to give this bitch the satisfaction of making me fall apart, even if I’m shattered and breaking on the inside.

“This is all your fault,” she growls in my direction.

I roll my eyes. I haven’t got the energy to fight off the insults of someone who could never understand me. I mean, what’s the point? I am so done with trying to defend my own insanity, I’m done trying to be a part of a society that isn’t ready to accept that there are all different kinds of people in the world.

“Isn’t it always,” I mutter, then stand and turn to my friend. “Sorry, Kitty. I tried, but getting us all here together isn’t ever going to be a good idea. I’m gonna go. I’ll catch you later.”

“Little Bit,” Callum says, causing every organ in my body to tighten. “Don’t leave.”

Cerys snorts and mumbles something I don’t quite catch but I imagine it’s something not too sunshiny about me.
Bring it on,
I think to myself. Nothing she can say to me will ever be harsher than what I tell myself daily. The noise around me amplifies in my brain making it almost impossible to think straight. I can feel the worried stares from Callum, Kate, and Joe. Their concern for me sends a dull ache to my chest, rising until it’s lodged in my throat. I hate this, hate feeling like this. My emotions are more out of control than they have ever been. I can’t focus, can’t organize the conflicting words spinning around my mind. I know the right way to think is in there somewhere, but it’s buried under years of forcefully suppressed thoughts.

One word flashes clearer than all the others, the same word I’ve lived by all my life.
Run.
The urge to escape, to find refuge overtakes every crevice of my brain. Somewhere in the distance I can hear Callum and Cerys arguing but I don’t register it. I’m stuck, compelled under my latest spell of anxiety. It eats at every last ounce of confidence I have. I don’t think about my actions. I don’t offer any explanation. I just leave. I swap my shoes at the counter, ignoring Kitty’s calls to me, and rush from the building. Once outside, I take desperate gulps of air. I close my eyes and lean against the wall, letting the cool air of the night soothe the screams in my head. I crouch down, rest my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands. I can’t even drum up enough sense to insult myself on how ridiculous I must look. I’m stuck here now too because I can’t fucking drive anywhere.
Fuck my life.
I need to get out of here before one of them comes after me. As soon as the thought enters my mind I feel him. I lift my head slowly. He’s looking down at me, his eyes soft but not filled with the pity I expect. I hate him, and I don’t. He drops down so he’s level with me, placing his hands on top of mine.

“Hey, Little Bit.”

I smile, and even I can feel how pathetic it must look, “Hi Callum.”

“I like your new hair,” he says.

I laugh a little.

“Thanks,” I mumble, releasing a shaky breath. “Can you take me somewhere?”

“Absolutely.”

ROSE-ANNE BAKER

Loving wife and mother

1964 – 1991

I stare at the granite slab in front of me, running my fingers across her name. I sit crossed legged in front of her gravestone, not caring that the moisture from the ground is seeping through my jeans. I can’t feel anything but the melancholy that’s taken over my heart, body, and soul. I know Callum is sitting on the bench behind me, but I may as well be here alone. I’ve never felt more alone.

“Hey mom,” I whisper. She doesn’t reply, obviously, but it doesn’t stop me from continuing our conversation as if she’s right here with me. “I’m a big mess right now, and I really need you. I hate that you can’t be here and I’m sorry, but I kind of hate you too because of it.”