Eight
R I V E R
I CAN’T GO HOME like this. To emphasize my point, Ryan’s name flashes across my cracked phone screen. The tiny fissures run through his name with a heart emoji on the end.
It’s symbolic, and I want to throw the fucking phone.
I press the volume button on the side of my phone. Instantly, the shrill sound silences. He’ll call again. I silence the phone completely so I don’t have to listen to the doom of my relationship anymore.
I’m soiled again. Tainted. Dirty. Stained.
Billy let me know just how much he missed me right in front of Barbie. She watched on with fear and resignation in her eyes. Again, not for my sake, but her own. Thank fuck he used a condom. Billy doesn’t want mini’s running around, that’s for sure.
After beating me black and blue, he turned to Barbie and made love to her. Laid her down on the kitchen floor and took her softly. It was a warning.
Be a good little Shallow Hill bitch, and you won’t get brutally raped and beaten. You’ll just get softly raped. In Billy’s head, that’s the better option.
With the way I feel, I’m thinking so, too.
We both knew Barbie would get it later. Billy was only giving her the illusion of safety. Barbie was smart enough to know that, though. Not for one second did she relax, though she pretended she was enjoying Billy’s dick inside of her regardless. If you snub Billy like that, he’ll snatch away that rare moment of tenderness and beat you till you need life support. I’d had already heard yelps of pain as I drug myself out of the house and into my car.
I paid her the same courtesy she paid me and drove the fuck off.
Or rather, swerved the fuck off. I definitely have a concussion, and everything feels broken. He broke my pinky when he slammed my hands in the freezer door and held it there as he took me from behind, that I’m sure of.
But it’s hard to catalog your injuries when everything feels broken.
Somehow, I make it out of Shallow Hill but I’m still a good ten minutes from home.
A home you can’t go to, River. What a depressing reminder that is.
All because I can’t just fucking stay away. It’s my own fault.
It’s my fault I was in that house. It’s my fault I was there when Billy showed up. It’s my fault he beat the shit out of me, and then raped me, too.
I put myself in that situation, so it’s my own fucking fault.
Fuck.
Sloppily, I wipe away the blood from my lip. For the final time, I swerve across the road. At this point, I’m an absolute menace to society. I’m basically driving drunk right now, and I could really hurt somebody.
I know misery loves company, but I’ve always been pretty intimate with the lonely life.
I pull the car over in a quaint neighborhood. Middle class. Nice homes with treated yards, but nothing over the top and excessive. The type of neighborhood that’s safe to park on the side of road on and not have to worry about getting mugged.
I would love to live in a house like these. Ryan’s house definitely falls in the ‘over the top’ category. But I grew up on nothing, so I don’t mind the simple things.
You put no value in something, you have nothing to hold onto. You put too much value in it, and you have everything to lose. I’ve already made that mistake because right now, it feels like I’ve lost everything.
A LOUD KNOCK JERKS me awake. Big mistake.
“Motherfuu… what the fuck?” I curse.
Pain. So much pain. I’m forced to swallow down the cry, otherwise it won’t ever stop. My bones feel broken, my lungs crushed, and my head splitting. Another more urgent knock sounds again next to my head.
If I was capable of lifting my arms, I’d clutch my head from the sound resounding in my skull.
Pretty sure there’s a jackhammer jackhammering my head or… something like that. I groan and flop my head over to look out the driver’s window. All I can see is the blurry image of a dark figure crouched over, looking through the glass with their hands cupped around their eyes. It’d be scary if I wasn’t so scatter-brained.
I passed out. Not good. Especially when I have a concussion. A tugging noise follows the knocking.
Great. Now someone is trying to break into my car. While I’m in it, no less. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. Oh yeah, that deceptively cute neighborhood. I guess I did have to worry about mugging after all. Maybe I’ll just let ‘em. Best case scenario, they’ll kill me. Worst case, they’ll drive off with my car and leave me to die slowly.
A muffled voice follows next. It sounds like—is the person saying my name?
“River!”
Yup, that was my name. And they’re shouting it. I’ve gone delusional.
Fuck it. I unlock the door. If I die, they’d be doing me a favor. A huge fucking favor.
The door flies open and gentle hands clutch my shoulders. I groan, uselessly attempting to raise my hands to get their hands off me. It’s futile.
“River, what the fuck happened?”
That voice. Ugh, not again.
“Go away,” I groan. Another hopeless attempt.
My seatbelt unbuckles and slides across my chest. Mako has to work to get my arm out of the strap. The clanging of the metal hitting the side of the car hurts. Gently, he sits me up and I’m
airborne. Only a second later, I’m cocooned in warm arms. Warm, warm arms.
I’m conscious enough to know I shouldn’t nestle deeper into said arms, but I do anyway. I’ll find time to regret it later when I’m not on the brink of death.
I’M NO LONGER IN warm arms, but a hospital bed. Ryan and his parents sit on one side of me. Mako on the other. I woke up only a minute ago to bright light and solemn faces staring at me.
The moment I saw Julie and Matt’s watching me with concern pinched into their faces, I nearly jumped out of the bed and ran. And Mako being here just makes me want to vomit. Why couldn’t he have just left? Another thing Ryan won’t like—Mako finding me. It’ll look like I sought him out somehow.
The tension in the room is enough to finish the job and kill me via suffocation.
“What happened?” I groan. My throat is incredibly dry. It burns to speak, let alone breathe.
“You were attacked,” Ryan answers, his hand covering mine. His touch feels cold, but his voice is warm and concerned.
Attacked? It takes a few seconds, but the events of… last night? —whenever it was—comes rushing back in full force.
Billy. I was in Shallow Hill collecting rent from Barbie and he showed up. It’s been awhile since Billy has beat me to this degree. I can’t say I’ve never been in this predicament before, but back then, my hospital bed was my twin sized bed at home. My nurse was… well, myself.
The aches and pains are familiar, but fuck, it’s still a shock to the system.
Turning my head, I look into Ryan’s eyes, tightened in the corners with distress. Hidden beneath is a darkness swirling in his dull blue pools.
I’ve no idea if it’s for me, or Billy.
“Oh, honey, how are you feeling? I’m calling the nurse,” Julie says. She stands and pushes the red button to call the nurse. I weakly signal towards the water. Julie rushes towards it before Ryan
can get to it.
Not that he attempted to try, anyway.
She holds up a straw to my busted lip, and orders me to drink slowly. It burns something fierce at first, but after a few swallows, it eases until the cool water is a balm to my throat.
The nurse shows up a few minutes later. I’m asked a bombardment of questions that I barely have the energy to answer. Her voice is overly sweet and grating on my last nerve. I try to be civil— she has to deal with enough shitty people in a day. The nurse is in the middle of checking my vitals when the doctor shows up.
He’s younger, only his thirties or so, with spiked hair and a killer smile. Even has a dimpled chin. He’s handsome. I’m not sure why that’s the first thing I latch onto.
Maybe because I don’t want to hear what he has to say.
“Hello, River. My name is Dr. Forrestt,” he says, smiling at me softly. He’s got really pretty blue eyes. Prettier than Ryan’s.
“I went over your chart, and the good news is that you’ll recover. You suffered a pretty severe concussion, along with two cracked ribs and a broken pinky. Other than that, you’re severely bruised.
No internal bleeding, and no other broken bones. I want to keep you another night or two to monitor your concussion, then you should be free to go home.”
I give him a weak thumbs up, not really caring what the damage is. They’re injuries I’ve suffered before. Probably won’t be the last time either.
He gives me a serious look. “River, due to the state we found your clothes in and the abrasions to your body, I have to ask. Would you like us to perform a rape kit?”
The blood drains from my face. “No,” I whisper.
“Why the hell not?” Ryan snaps from beside me, looking at me as if I have three heads.
“Because she said no,” Mako intervenes, glaring at Ryan with heat. I don’t like Mako sticking up for me—it makes my insides feel weird and only pisses Ryan off more.
The doctor nods his head anyway, not pushing the matter, while Ryan splits his glare between Mako and myself. There’s accusation in his eyes, assumptions forming in his head at rapid speed. I’m sure he thinks I cheated with Mako somehow. Maybe he even thinks Mako is the one that did this to me. Mako finding me was pure, unlucky coincidence. I would have preferred the devil find me himself.
“River, we did report this to the police. A couple officers are here and want to speak with you.
Is that okay?” Julie asks softly. Her face. That’s true concern. I appreciate that, but I really fucking wish she wouldn’t have called them. I know it’d be the obvious thing to do with normal families, but that’s not me. I don’t come from a functional family that cares about each other.
I force a smile and nod. She goes to call them in.
“Don’t you worry, River, they’ll figure out who did it. And when they do, I’ll be sure to put them away for life,” Matt says, leaning forward to pat my leg in assurance. How sweet, but not going to happen.
When they walk in, Mako stands. He obviously knows them.
“River, I’m Officer Brady and this is Officer Gonzalez. I see you already know Detective
Fitzgerald.”
Unfortunately.
The officer who introduced himself is a stocky man with a shining bald head and a bushy, blonde mustache. His head is red from the sun. He should put some sunblock on.
“Hi,” I say shortly. Officer Gonzalez steps forward. He’s attractive, with Hispanic heritage and warm chocolate eyes. I’d probably be interested in him if I lived a different life.
“River, do you remember anything that took place last night?”
“Based off where I am right now, I assume I was jumped.” Ryan tenses from beside me.
“Do you know who they were?”
A heartbeat passes.
“No.”
“Understandable, you were hit pretty hard in the head,” Officer Gonzalez concedes. “Do you remember where you were?”
Do you know, do you remember, do you this, do you that… “Shallow Hill.”
The officers shift uncomfortably. The police force mostly stays away from that area. It’s only
twenty-five minutes from where I live, but it might as well be a whole other state. I’ve always wanted to move out of state, but I got too damn attached to the college I was attending, and the people in it.
Amelia… Ryan… Stupid, River.
“Why were you there?” Ryan asks this time.
“To see my mother,” I answer shortly.
“River, do you remember anything about the night you were attacked? If there were more than one. What they looked like. If they said anything?” Officer Gonzalez asks, pinning me with warm sympathetic eyes.
His sympathy bounces off me like a basketball on the court. I’ve received sympathy my whole life for my situation, yet only one person cared enough to get me out of it, and she died before she could. Countless teachers and adults have crossed my path, and all of them turned a blind eye, even when I showed up to school dirty and covered in bruises. That’s what all the kids looked like that came from Shallow Hill. It wasn’t anything new to them.
These police officers aren’t going to be much different. They’ll pretend to care, ask questions, and then they’ll poke around for a few clues. When they don’t find anything and all their leads dry up, they’ll drop the façade, and I’ll be grateful for that. Because the minute these cops ask the wrong questions to the wrong people, they’ll go missing without a trace.
You’re welcome.
“I think it was just one person. But he came from behind me. I don’t remember anything,” I answer robotically.
They ask a few more probing questions without getting much of an answer from me.
Officer Brady clears his throat and steps forward, a card in hand. “We’ll need to take a statement from you when you get out. If you remember anything, gives us call.”
I nod and take it, and they both leave. It should go in the trash, but for reasons I can’t name, I hold onto it. Mako follows behind them, more than likely to tell his side of the story. Meddling fool.
Julie and Matt leave a few minutes later, wishing me well and promising to stop by again soon.
Their concern warms my heart. I’ve never had a family before.
“RYAN!” I SHOUT FROM the couch.
No answer.
He’s barely spoken to me since I was discharged from the hospital, which was only yesterday.
He hasn’t yelled at me or questioned me, either. He’s just… silent.
“Ryan!” I try again.
I’m stuck. Every muscle in my body is sore. My skin is mottled with bruises everywhere and I still can’t move easily. It feels like a plane crash-landed directly on my body. Billy beat my entire
body senseless. It’s a wonder that I didn’t end up with more complications than a couple broken ribs and black and blue skin.
“RYAN!” I scream, despite my ribs screaming at me in return.
I have to pee. Like really bad.
I attempt to sit up, but the pain is blinding. The doc sent me home with pain killers, but they only take the edge off. Gritting my teeth, I manage to sit myself up. I blow out a harsh breath before I haul myself up. Dizziness immediately assaults me, and before I know it, I’m back on my ass again.
This reminds me of being small again, when I was helpless and had no one to help me when I need to pee or eat. Most days, I ended up peeing myself until I had the strength to get up. It was also a pretty good deterrent from men. Fucking a little girl isn’t wrong but when she reeks of piss? Oh no, that’s gross. I promised myself I’d never go back to those days, where spoiling myself and going days on end without food was my way of life. La de da, here I am once again.
“Ryan!” I try once more, frustrated tears pricking my eyes.
I hear him moving around upstairs, and I know the bastard can hear me. There’s a half-bath on the other side of the house, but with how slow I’d move, it’d take me forever to get there myself. He doesn’t even need to carry me there; I just need help getting up and walking there. Giving a little assistance never fucking killed anyone the last time I checked.
The pressure in my bladder builds to the point that I’m cramping. It’s painful, and when I realize that I’m not going to make it to the bathroom, the tears bloom and fall over the eyes in rivers.
At least the couch is leather.
“Ryan!” I scream once more. The effort causes my bladder to release. A sob releases from my throat as I completely lose all dignity and piss myself on the couch. And when he still doesn’t answer, I’m forced to lay in it. Just like when I was kid.
Promises, promises, River. Can’t even keep promises to your own damn self.
The warmth is sickening, and soon, my skin grows itchy. My ass will never forget the feeling of rashes on the most sensitive areas on my body. They were almost as horrid as the injuries themselves.
Bad enough that I’d use my precious money for food on rash cream instead.
Snot soon joins the salty tears tracking down my face. Angrily, I wipe it away, but the tears and snot keep coming, which further frustrates me.
I’m fucking soaked enough, I don’t need this shit.
After another ten minutes, I hear Ryan’s footsteps. And I’m pissed. Fury boils in my veins. I’m trembling from the rage. How dare he leave me here by myself, completely incapacitated? It’s not like he left me for a minute, he’s been upstairs for over an hour.
He’s the one that brought me down here, claiming a change of scenery would help pep me up. He brings me down here, and then leaves me?
But no, I could’ve dealt with that. It’s the fact that I screamed for him several times, and he ignored me. He fucking ignored me.
He rounds the couch and then freezes when he sees my predicament. I’m nearly frothing at the mouth, but I keep my mouth shut. I want to see what he does first.
“You pissed all over my couch?”
I didn’t think it was possible to get angrier, but here we are.
“Are you serious right now?” I spit. I could literally kill him. “I yelled for you five fucking times!”
He looks down at the mess, anger flashing in his eyes. His jaw clenches and he turns his eyes up to glare at me. “I was busy,” he states.
“Doing what?!”
“None of your fucking business,” he snaps.
“It’s not my business? Really? What could possibly be more important than coming downstairs when you’re injured girlfriend needs you?!”
He stalks towards me and leans down in my face.
“If you want to act like a bitch, then I’ll fucking leave you to stew in your piss,” he threatens. It takes everything in me to keep my mouth closed. Everything. “If anyone has the right to be mad, it’s me. You went to that fucking bitch’s house and got yourself jumped. It’s your own goddamn fault, and you lied to the police about who did it. You’re protecting the people who injured you, so you can suffer through it.”
Speechless. I’m absolutely speechless. I had already blamed myself for putting myself in that situation, but I certainly didn’t ask for it. And I sure as hell didn’t deserve it.
“You also turned down a rape kit. And you know what that tells me, River?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “It tells me you fucked someone and don’t want to get caught.”
I blanch, my eyes widening with disbelief.
“Is that what you believe, Ryan? You think I went out and asked for any of this?”
“So, you admit you fucked someone?” he shouts, his spine snapping straight.
“No!” I protest angrily.
“Then why not get the rape kit?”
“Because I wasn’t raped!”
“How do you know? You said you don’t remember.”
“Because I’d be able to fucking know if someone hurt me down there!”
“Fucking liar!” he screams, right before his hand whips out backhands me across the face. The pain doesn’t register at first. I’m in too much shock.
No—my boyfriend couldn’t have just hit me when I’ve already been beaten half to death. No— not when he loves me.
But the pain does come for me, and it hurts. Everything hurts, including the goddamn muscle inside my chest that keeps getting me in these situations.
How could he treat me like this? How could he hurt me? And why can’t I be able to tell my truth to my boyfriend, and be comfortable and confident that he won’t blame me? That he won’t hit me?
I had no idea Billy was even going to be there. As much as he likes to call me a ghost, he doesn’t show up to that house but a few times a year. Usually Barbie goes to him. He caught us both by surprise.
“I don’t believe you,” he hisses, not even a miniscule amount of remorse reflected in his
darkened eyes.
“Why?” I demand pitifully.
“Because you’re a liar. Mako was the one that found you and brought you in. How did that happen, River? Is he the one you fucked? Maybe you didn’t go to Shallow Hill at all. Maybe you let that piece of shit fuck you and he decided to beat you, too. Wouldn’t fucking surprise me.”
Hypocrite.
But there’s the accusation I was waiting for. I knew he’d somehow involve Mako in this. I knew he’d assume I’m cheating on him with his brother. I knew it was coming, yet the accusation pisses me off to high heaven anyway.
“I was just driving and pulled over. I had no idea it was his house. It was… coincidence.”
A high-pitched, crazed laugh bursts out of his throat.
“Coincidence?” he repeats shrilly. “I doubt that. I knew you had a thing for him the moment you met him. You’re a goddamn whore, River.”
“I am not!” I screech. I’m just—I’m just so fucking tired of being called a whore!
“You are,” he growls. “He likes to call himself my brother, but he’s not. He’s a fraud pretending
to play the part.”
His words make no sense.
“If I find out you fucked him, I will kill you, River. Do you hear me? I will fucking slit your throat.” His eyes are wild, hair a mess as if he pulled at it, and his clothes askew. He looks unhinged.
Before I can muster a reply, he storms off towards the front door. His keys are swiped off the table by the door, and he’s slamming it shut behind him a second later.
“Don’t leave me like this!” I scream. I scream, and scream, and scream. He doesn’t come back.
Not even an hour later, while I’m still stuck on the couch.
I’m wet and my skin is extremely irritated, my broken ribs are probably cracked even further based off how little I can breathe, my lip is bleeding and I’m fucking miserable. This is what dying feels like.
Slowly, I slide off the couch, teeth gritted, and crawl over to the end table where my phone rests.
It takes a few attempts, but once I get it in my hand, I just stare at it.
Who the hell am I supposed to call?
There’s Amelia… but I don’t want her to see me like this. I don’t want to tell her about what Ryan did. I couldn’t call Ryan’s parents—not when it’s their own son that left me like this.
I have no one. Unless, I do something stupid and call someone I really don’t want to.
I put the phone to my ear. I’m past caring at this point.
“Officer Brady.”
“Hi, this is River. I… can you give me Detective Fitzgerald’s number please? I’d like to talk to
him about what happened.”
“Ma’am, I can take the repor—”
“I’d like to talk to Detective Fitzgerald, please.”
