I shake my head. Is that what that was? It felt like I was having a fucking heart attack and being suffocated at the same time.
“You do?” I ask, needing someone to understand, hoping he can be the one who does.
“No,” he says slowly. My face must reflect disappointment because he quickly says, “My mom does. She was in a bad car accident when I was like ten. I learned to help her calm down when my dad wasn’t around. You good?”
I nod and pull my knees to my chest. I wince as the pain in my ribs and…down there come back in full force. “I don’t feel good.”
“It’s okay,” Jax says, dragging the blanket up and placing it around me. “Go to sleep.”
I close my eyes, feeling drained. Before I drift off, I look down at Jax, at the steady presence of my best friend. At the one person that’s always in my corner. In another reality, where I wasn’t so fucked up and my life wasn’t shit, we could…be together, I could tell him how I feel about him and hope its reciprocated.
But I have nothing to offer him but my songs, my melodies, my words. He can’t have my heart because it’s a black and withered lump in my chest, not something fit to offer someone pure like him.
I can give him what I have. It’s not much, but it’s the only honest thing in my life.
My eyes heavy from exhaustion, I say, “I wanna leave, Jax. I can’t…it’s too much. It all hurts so much.” I stop short oftelling him of what Perry does to me and that my mom knows about the abuse. I can’t sound weak in front of Jax. I can’t. It would kill me. He probably already thinks I am since I don’t fight Perry when he puts his hands on me, but I can’t have it confirmed.
Iamweak though. My body refuses to do anything but freeze when Perry’s around. He’s able to do whatever he wants to me because I’m so fucking pitiful.
“I’m sorry, Wes. Did he hit you again?” I nod, and he curses. “Please, let me tell someone. My dad. He can help. He’s a lawyer.”
I shake my head quickly. “No. No one. Promise me.”
His impossibly sad eyes grow even sadder as he looks down at me. “Wesley…”
“Promise, Jaxon.”
He sighs like it hurts and nods. “Okay. I promise.”
A long breath leaves my lips. “You can sleep here,” I say, sliding over so he has room.
He shakes his head and turns away, hiding his eyes from me. “Nah. I’m good here. Go to sleep, Wes. I’ll watch over you.”
I faintly feel his fingers in my hair as I drift off into my first drug-induced sleep.
THREE
JAXON
When I’msure Wesley is asleep, with soft hands, I pull the blanket down until it pools around his waist. He stirs slightly, making me freeze, but he only turns his head in the other direction, letting out a soft exhale.
After a few beats of tense silence, I reach up and drag his shirt past his ribs. A sharp curse leaves my lips. Boot-shaped bruises cover his torso.
Tears flood my eyes, and it takes effort to push them back, though one manages to escape. How could anyone do this to another person? To a fucking kid?
I’m a shitty friend for not telling someone about this. An adult. Perry could end up killing Wesley. I promised him I wouldn’t tell, and I plan to keep that promise, but I need an insurance policy just in case I get to the point where I can’t.
The last time he came over with his face bruised, I told myself I would make sure if he wanted to come forward, he would have evidence. Since my father is a lawyer—and I want to follow in his footsteps— a plan formulated in my mind, and Wesley being drunk or high works in my favor.
So he can’t stop me.
I wipe the stray tear from my cheek, and as quietly as I can, I open my nightstand drawer and pull out the disposable camera. I make sure the flash is off but flick on my bedside light so I can have some illumination. Then I snap as many pictures of Wesley’s battered body as I can. I take them quickly so I don’t have to look at the angry contusions for too long.
Once I’ve taken photos from all angles, I return the camera to my nightstand drawer. Then I go to my closet and grab an extra pillow and blanket so I can make a pallet on the floor. After Perry put his hands on Wesley tonight, I’m sure he won’t want anyone to touch him right now. Judging from the way he kicked me when I tried to get him comfortable, he has had enough of people pawing at him, even if I was only trying to help.
I relax as much as I can and drop off into an uneasy sleep, waking every hour or so to check on Wesley.
The next morning, I wake before he does and head to the kitchen. I’m not surprised to find my mother in there already. She has her back to me, putting coffee into the coffee maker.
