149Note: This chapter HAS been edited but mostly only in the beginning and a little bit throughout. Comments about what you guys think are always great :)
Chapter One,
I lay, curled up on my bed, unmoving, its covers pulled up to my chin as I stared at the ceiling. It was so strange, I felt so empty, now that Victoria was gone. I mean, things were so different after just one night, and it was still somewhat of a shock.
Christina, my twin sister, came trotting into the room, in high spirits as usual; she was never one to let things get her down for long. Not that she should be sad. Victoria hadn't been her horse. She flung open the curtains of our largest window, sending piercing late afternoon light flooding through the room. "Come on Kris! Perk up! Get your lazy ass out of that bed and you'll start feeling better!" she called in an obnoxiously-fake, excited voice. I shot her a glare through squinted eyes. Sometimes I really hated her.
"Gee, love you too Christy," I muttered sarcastically. Unfortunately for us, our unexplainable mother was going through one of her "wouldn't it be sooo cute" stages at the time of our birth and given us matching names: Kristen and Christina. Hey, we were twins after all! Our matching names were something that both Christina and I never liked much. This was, of course, similar to the time she'd color schemed the whole house shades of green. This effect, combined with any plants in the room, gave you the eerie feeling that you were in a giant bowl of salad. Thankfully though, this terribly strange person I called my mother, had redesigned the house in the more...how should I say...normal fashion of a country style home.
"Wanna come to a party with me tonight?" Christina asked, interrupting my thoughts. I looked at her hard. A party was where it all had began after all.
"Where?"
"Jay's place. Jake and I think you need a little fun and excitement!" Christina laughed cheerily. Once again I'll have to say that I really never liked the way she always dragged me around with her, yet at school she didn't know me. And if she did happen to notice me, it was to "take me under her wing" to try to "fix" her "poor little twin sister" from the social suicide I was making by wearing my "gawd awful" clothes. Those "gawd awful" clothes consisted of my cowboy boots, straight leg jeans, non-skin-tight shirts, and my cowboy hat. Sorry, but that was me. Personally I thought her overly happy and flamboyant little self clad in shrink wrap clothing which just barely covered all her unmentionables and advertised her belly button ring and god knows what else…. Well I thought all that was pretty "gawd awful" too. But you don't see me "taking her under my wing" to straighten her out do you?
"No," I growled, pulled my second pillow over my head. Jay's place was pretty much a club. Jay Baker owned the place, obviously, and took a lot of pride in it, possibly too much for his own good. He'd started it about a year ago and now it was about the most popular spot for about fifty miles in every direction, if not further. He was twenty-eight, quite the gentleman, and a friend of Christina's. I hadn't a clue why or how my twin was good friends with some guy eleven years older than her, but obviously she was. Fortunately though, this got the two of us underage girls not only in, but free of charge; a very handy friendship, if you ask me.
"Why not?" Christina whined. A sound that, unfortunately, pierced through my down pillow and reached my ears. I looked at her hard again.
"Not now," I snapped, my eyes brimmed and threatened to overflow.
"Alright, alright, I just thought it might cheer you up," she muttered.
That was the end of it. Christina trotted out of the room with a goodbye and a "you're gonna miss all the fun". I sighed and pulled the covers over my head. God… what am I gonna do now? Ever since that night I'd lost all hope of being happy again.
After awhile I threw back the covers and climbed out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. Once I'd finished my "business", so to speak, and I was washing my hands in the sink, I looked up at myself in the mirror. My short, lower jawbone length blonde hair was strewn about in a mess and my eyes bloodshot from crying. My face was finely boned and quite pretty, not that my eyes could see that beauty anymore and wouldn't for a long time. Down my thin, elegant neck, I looked to my mirror image's arms and shoulders, which were thin, but toned and lightly tanned. My hands were strong, and my fingers long and slender. Like my twin, I had a fairly good-sized bust, at 34B. Considered "small", but it fit my body well. My waist was thin and curved in above my slender hips. I looked down at my pajama bottoms and pictured my legs beneath them. They were muscled, strong, and sleek; perfect; and my butt and thighs were firm and well shaped. My ankles were thin, yet seemingly un-sprain-able, and my feet small, cute, and very ticklish.
Yet in my eyes at the time I was short and scraggly, fat even, my butt too big and my face too dull. Everything was seen at the minimal, the worst possible. To me I was ugly; a scarecrow, a demon. I saw an easy girl: used, abused, and loveless, which was true in a sense, yet I know now it was so far from the truth as well.
I, Kristen, stood at five feet, two inches; short for a seventeen-year-old girl. My passion had always been horses, which could explain why I was a "cowgirl" and dressed accordingly.
A black cowboy hat used to sit upon my head, but since that night, I hadn't put it on again. It lay in its hatbox under my bed, untouched. At times I desperately wanted to put it on and pretend everything was normal again, that I had never provoked Blake the night that started everything and that my beloved horse had never left me. But I never put it on, because I was afraid I'd never be able to take it back off, and never stop dreaming.
I sighed at myself and left the bathroom. Just as I was about to lay down again I heard the doorbell and, reluctantly, went to my bedroom window, fear creeping into the pit of my empty stomach and peeked out, though I couldn't see who was at the door, I could see who's car. And that was all I ever needed to know. But, to my relief, I saw the mailman driving out of our driveway. He always did ring after dropping off the mail, I recalled. I forced a smile, now that the fear was beginning to fade away and my body could relax again. It's kind of amusing, the way you can get so wrapped up in things, you forget little things like, the mailman's habit of ringing the doorbell. What wasn't amusing was the fact that I desperately wanted to get wrapped up again.
I decided that someone else could get the mail and was just about to climb in my bed when Christina called my name. I groaned, if it wasn't one thing, it was another. After casting my warm bed a longing glance I turned to the doorway where my twin was standing with the phone in her hand. "Oh, here she is. She's up too. She's doing a lot better," she was saying and that all too familiar twitch in my stomach returned as well as a zip of electricity up my arms. "Here Kris, its Blake," she said, holding out the phone to me and confirming my fears. The twitch turned into a lurch.
Careful to keep my face blank, if not radiating the excitement I ought to feel when hearing from my boyfriend, I took the purple cordless and raised it to the side of my face. "Hey," I said and sank into my bed. If there was ever I time I needed comfort in the past thirty-two hours or so, it was now.
"What the hell is going on?" he snapped. I still remember to this day, when he'd greet me with "hi baby" or something along those lines. Too bad those days were six months ago.
"Victoria died the night before last," I said, my voice catching.
"Yeah I know, your sister told me when I called yesterday. We had plans last night. Where the hell were you?"
I shifted away from Christina's line of sight, not that she was looking at me or at all concerned. I mean, he was, after all, the perfect boyfriend. "Didn't she tell you? I told her to tell you I couldn't go."
"Yeah, she told me alright. Why the hell couldn't you go? It was just a damn horse Kris. You made me look like a fool when I had to explain my girl wasn't showing cas her stupid horse died." His girl. Was that all I was, I wondered. Even Christina seemed to think he made up for my fashion errors, that because I was his girl I could be excused for everything I was. Like I was even myself anymore. I'd dress up for Blake sometimes, which Christina loved. And even to myself I was his girl and that, somehow, made me feel like I was important. Even though he told me time and time again that I wasn't worthy of the blessing. Still, I loved the power I felt when I walked at his side and all the girls in the room turned to stare in jealousy and when guys that wouldn't have given me the time of day before Blake, now treated me with respect or at least with plenty of courtesy because they feared Blake's wrath. Not nearly as much as I did though.
"I'm sorry," I said in a low voice, hoping Christina wouldn't hear. But, of course, she was too involved with the people she was chatting with online. Silently I thanked my parents for all the phone lines we had: one for the internet, one for Christina and I, one for Dad's business, and another for general use. Those four lines usually kept everyone busy, either on the phone, or the internet. And if someone wasn't on the line, they were either working or, in Christy's case, "out".
Blake ignored my apology and said, "I'm on my way over, be ready to go in ten." I opened and closed my mouth, the fear in the pit of my stomach exploding within me and making me feel like it might just burn its way up my throat and erupt out my mouth. I searched desperately for words, for an excuse not to. But I knew I would only be prolonging the inevitable and making that inevitable worse and worse with each growing second. I was just about to agree when his voice demanded loudly in my ear, "Got it?"
"Yeah, I'll be ready."
"Good," he snapped into the phone before I heard the click of disconnection.
"Love you too," I added for both my sake and Christina's who was now looking at me. And, shoot me now, I did love him.
"Are you going out?" she asked me.
"Yep," I said, putting out a false cheer and rushed into the bathroom. When Blake said ten, he usually meant five, and being late was not an option. Quickly I scrubbed my face, brushed my hair, and applied my makeup. It wasn't the best job I could do by far, but considering my time restraints, it was pretty damn good. Then I returned to our bedroom and tried to decide what today would be. He either wanted me to dress provocatively or cover every last inch of me with something big and bulky.
Deciding to play it safe, or as safe as it got with Blake, I pulled on a pair of tight fitting jeans and a loose long sleeve shirt that I could tie up if need be. Then the doorbell rung. Silently I praised myself for getting ready so fast. It was the closest I could get to boosting my self confidence. Not that it would matter in a second. Sometimes I wondered why I even tried, I'd only get knocked down further and all I could do was wonder when I would hit the zero mark on the confidence scale. Not that such a thing existed, though if it did I imagine I would be in the range of about 5 and 10 out of like… two hundred or something. What I didn't know, was what would happen when I did hit zero, but I was about to find out.
I ran to the door, opened it, and stepped outside before his cold voice could reach inside to my unsuspecting family. Not that they would even hear it. They loved him. He was, without doubt, the best thing that ever happened to me. Or at least that's what they thought because they were blind to it. Blind to the bruises, blind to the sorrow I couldn't always hide. All those great things had been true for only about three months.
"Hey," he said, his eyes darting to the kitchen window, which Christina was at, staring at us with googly eyes. Like we were such an adorable couple or something. His hand cupped around my elbow and clamped onto my arm like iron. I felt as though I could buckle down at any moment, but he crowed up against me, his hot breath at my neck where he kissed me oh-so-gently. To Christina it would never look as though his fingers were biting into my already bruised arms, threatening to bend the bones. But I knew it.
"Hi," I said, smiling because he liked that. "Let's go." I glanced over my shoulder at my twin and he nodded.
At one time I imagine I'd gotten to up close to that two hundred mark on the confidence scale. Back when Blake would tell me how beautiful I was and how much he loved me.
"Lets."
He let go of me so I could get in the car and, once the door was safely closed and blocking anyone's view, I rubbed my elbow. It was tender to the touch now. Or should I say more so. As if it ever hadn't been, ha.
Once he too was inside his little BMW sports car, the rest of the world shut out, he turned his angry eyes on me. They scrutinized every inch of my being. "Jezus Kris, the whole world doesn't want to see your fat ass. You dress like such a fucking slut. How the hell are people supposed to respect me when my bitch looks like a cock-sucking whore."
Now free to flinch, I did so, leaning against the door for support-and to get away from him. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice wavering. As much as I wanted to cry every time he said things like that, I never did. No, I'd learned that lesson before and it definitely hadn't been in the easiest way either. I slipped my hands beneath my thighs so neither Blake nor I could see my fingers as they twitched and trembled. Instead I wiggled my toes inside my cowboy boots. I dared not tap my foot, but moving some part of me helped me focus on something that didn't begin with Blake and end with the bruises covering my body.
Blake started up the car and we roared off, tires squealing, though I doubted anyone heard. Christina had no doubt returned to her computer or else to the phone, or maybe she was reading a fashion magazine while painting her nails. Either way she never would have noticed. I figured she had her music playing. Christina Aguilera was probably in our stereo.
Some thought it strange that my twin and I shared a room when our house was so big, our property so endless, and our family so wealthy. But we did. We had since we were little and neither of us had up and moved into a different room. At times we definitely wanted to, but overall, sharing the room was something we had in common. And we groped for things we could both relate to. First there was our looks. Then there was our room and that was about it. Minus a few things like, we both liked to chat online, though with completely different people and in completely different ways. We both liked to eat Ego waffles for breakfast, but I liked mine with syrup, Christina with jam.
When we got our horses we both thought that would be the ultimate thing to pull us together. But instead it merely pushed us farther apart. Christina liked to go riding with her friends, but she had quickly grown out of her horse becoming her best friend. Or even friend for that matter. I, on the other hand, had a bond between myself and Victoria that I hadn't had with another living creature-human or animal. I'd already been quite the tom boy, so the addition of a cowboy hat and boots didn't seem like much, but it changed who I was. As we grew older I divulged myself deeper into my horse, wanting only to spend my free time with her, while Christina moved on to parties, boys, and friends.
Sure, I went to my fair share of parties, but only when Christina dragged me along and I never had friends and I won't even go into boys, as there weren't any, save a few smelly, zit-faced, horny "nerds". Or at least until Blake came along.
Blake changed everything. Blake changed my world. Who I was. What I wanted. The things I loved. He changed every last thing about me, except Victoria. Except Victoria and the things she had changed in me. I was still a cowgirl at heart, though Blake had long ago forbidden me to wear my hat with him into clubs and such. He hated my boots too, but hadn't been able to dismiss those so easily, as he'd rather I wore cowboy boots than go barefoot and I had no other shoes. Though he had bought me shoes which he insisted I wore to certain things. He bought me a lot of things. And every last one of them sent pangs of fear through me every time I saw them.
"Are you listening to me?" Blake's voice cut through my thoughts and my entire body tensed up. I'd managed to relax some, but the anger in his words dispelled it twice over.
"I'm sorry," I said again, but didn't bother with an excuse. Anything more I said would only turn me into something else bad that he could prey on. And even if there was an excuse I could mutter that he would accept, I didn't have the strength nor courage to attempt it.
"God damn girl, stop your moping. Your fucking horse is dead." The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. I hadn't been thinking about that, but hearing his voice talk of Victoria with such distaste had my skin flaming. "Speaking of, are you going to stop wearing those stupid boots and that damn hat now?" It was weird how you could hate someone so much, but love them just as much at the same time. Weird how I would flinch in fear at his voice one moment, then love the deep, gruffness of it. How I could love the person so desperately who'd marred my body, stifled my bold and happy personality-granted the only person who'd actually seen that personality was, in fact, a horse-and completely decimated my self confidence. Not to mention left me wanting to cower in fear after one disgusted look. But love him I did.
"Probably," I said because that was as close to the answer he wanted as I could give him at the moment. "Where are we going?"
There was once a time when he'd been sweet and caring. When he'd hold my hand, kiss my knee if I scraped it, bring me flowers, and tell me he loved me. I remember we used to go riding together then we'd lay in the woods for hours, making out or making love, before riding back to society. We'd laugh for hours, just talking and being in each other's company. And, god, when we'd made love it had been so wonderful. He'd made it so special. He'd made me feel like I was beautiful, like I was every man's dream.
He'd been amazing.
He'd been challenging and different and being with him had made me feel so alive. The things we did together had seemed so dangerous but he kept his cool as he did his dealings and protected me if anything got rough. That danger had given me adrenaline rushes that I hadn't ever felt before. That danger was nothing compared to what I faced now. Only this time it was from him.
"Pete's house, we've got some unfinished business."
"He skimping on his bills again?" I asked. I knew this world. I knew the drugs, the people who dealt them, and exactly what happened if you didn't pay up. If Pete had a brain in his head, which he probably didn't, he'd have that money snugly in an envelope, with a little extra for good measure, and a shut mouth.
Blake smiled at me and I felt warmth settle inside me. It was the smile that I loved so much. It was the smile I looked for every time I saw him. It meant things were okay between us until I screwed something else up. Sometimes it lasted for the rest of the night. But most importantly and probably the most painful part about it, was the spark of hope that lit inside me as I wondered if it would be today that he'd turn back into the person he was when I met him. The person I'd fallen in love with. But today I knew better. It warmed me, but no sparks ignited. I knew he'd never change back. All I could hope for was that, if I were perfect enough, I'd see those smiles more often.
"Then to Rob's, he's having a party in about two hours and needs some shit."
I nodded, the little warmth inside me suddenly being squashed with ice. I didn't like Rob. In fact I downright despised him. He would always flirt with me whenever Blake was out of earshot and touch me when he was out of sight. I'd gotten a few good sized bruises on me because of Rob and what he'd been doing to me when Blake returned from dropping off some cocaine with someone else at the party.
Blake eyed me suspiciously, "You aren't gonna screw around with him again are you?"
There was no point in explaining that it hadn't been me and that I hadn't liked it any more than Blake had. No, that had only earned me another bruise for "lying". "No, I won't. I'll stay at your side all night if you let me," I said dutifully.
He smiled again. "Alright."
Blake had introduced me to the drug world. He'd taught me what cocaine could make you feel and how you take it. He'd shown me what it was like to get stoned off your ass with grass. Crystal meth, ecstasy, you name it. I learned what it was. He'd never forced me into doing anything though. Oh, he had wanted me to try the things he dealt, as if he were giving me a priceless gift. Which was pretty close to what it was, that shit was very expensive and I got it for just being his girl. But I was reasonably clean. I didn't do anything anymore unless he was and suggested I join him. In which case I didn't do much. Not like druggies, who couldn't get enough of the stuff, whatever it happened to be. I wasn't a druggie. I just enjoyed a little fun and relaxation now and then. Which I used to be able to get by just being in Blake's presence.
"Are we going anywhere after that?" I asked.
"Just my house," he said with a grin at me. "Where you're gonna make up for blowing me off yesterday," he said, his smile wavering into a frown for a second, but returned to a smile when I forced a smile too.
"That I will," I agreed, as I was supposed to.
Sex with Blake now was exactly that. Sex. It was no longer making love. That had left with the kindness in his eyes. Still, I loved him and knowing that he wanted me in such an intimate way helped stifle the pain I felt by merely being with him now. It also insured that I would be safe for at least an hour. And the moments that we'd lay together afterwards were priceless to me. Whenever I thought that he didn't love me anymore, all I had to do was think of the time we spent in each other's arms at night. Sometimes I'd stay the whole night and we'd just lay together and sleep.
A lot of people might wonder why I stayed with him and one of the reasons was those nights we spent together. Because he did love me. I knew that. To this day, I have no doubt that he loved me. I know it because why else would he have kept me? Kept me scared to leave him and held me so tight at night after we had sex, his face pressed into my hair. I know it because he knew no other way to treat me. Yes, there had been a time when he'd been gentle and loving, but that was before his mom walked out on him. We never talked about that night much, but it changed him. All the love he'd shown his mother, which had been a lot, didn't keep her here. I know now he only treated me the way he'd been taught to treat people. The way he'd been treated.
But, of course, at the time I didn't understand all that. I only understood by the way he held me when he slept that he truly did love me. And I understood that somewhere a long the line, his mother leaving him and scarred him for life. What I didn't understand was why he was scarring me now. Why he was lashing out at me. Now I think it was because I was the only constant in his life. The only one who gave him constant unconditional love. But I will never understand exactly why he had to keep hurting me.
"Jeezus, you're quiet," he said loudly. "What are you thinking about?"
"You," I said and smiled at him. He smiled too and my heart crept from its tiny dark hiding place.
"What about me?" he asked.
This was a close as I could get to getting back the old him and I soaked up every last drop because I knew it wouldn't last. "About you and me. About what we're going to do when we get to your place."
His grin widened, his eyes sparkling in what I told myself was love and the happiness he used to possess, "by all means, do continue."
"About making love with you," I told him, as he'd wished. I still called it "making love" when I spoke out loud. I knew it was far from that, but sometimes it came close. All I had left was hope and I hung on to every last thread of it. "About kissing you and taking you clothes off," I added for good measure.
"Damn," he muttered, still smiling at me, "I wish I didn't have a deadline tonight, else we'd go there right now."
I'd much rather we skip Rob's and go to his house so I blundered on. "You could skip it, they'll live. You can deal with Pete tomorrow and Rob…" My voice trailed off as I realized my dire mistake.
"No Kris, I can't just ditch this. This is my job. This is what I do. Stop trying to change me."
"I'm not trying to change you," I said quickly, but it was useless. The damage had been done. If I was lucky I'd get him back into a decent mood by the time we reached his house, but all that counted on his dealings to go smoothly and considering who today's druggies were, that would take a miracle. Pete was a pain in the ass and always owed money, rarely having all it the first few times Blake came calling. Then there was Rob. Rob already rubbed Blake the wrong way after Blake had seen the guy mauling me. Even though both he and Rob blamed the entire incident on me.
"The fuck you're not. You're always wanting me to stay clean, wanting me to give up dealing. What the fuck is your problem? This is who I fucking am." I always knew he was beyond recovery when "fuck" was in every sentence he spat out at me. "If you hate my life so fucking much why don't you go off with Rob. We all know you want to fuck his brains out. Or maybe you already have, you fucking whore. You sure fucking dress like one, why not just go along with the outfit and act on it bitch. God damn, I give you everything and you don't do shit in return. Fuck this. I don't know why I put up with you. You're fucking worthless."
I won't pretend his words didn't hurt. They cut deep into me and ripped down the little confidence and hope that had grown while he had smiled at me. Ripped it down twice over. I didn't understand how I could keep falling lower and lower and I never seemed to reach the bottom.
"What's he like? Does he pay you or do you do for free? What's the cost? Twenty-five for a quickie, fifty for the works? You've always been so cheap," he snarled then turned to look at me. His eyes burned with angry flames as he glared at me with contempt.
My eyes burned with tears but I dared not let one fall. Instead I pinched my thighs from where my hands were tucked to take my mind off some of it. "I don't sleep with anyone but you," I said, trying to stay calm.
He slammed his foot on the brake and swerved to the side of the road, causing me to rock in my seat and nearly crash into the dash. He then turned his body, broad powerful shoulders and all, towards me. "You fucking liar," his voice growled in a tone so low and familiar that the sudden pierce of pain as he grabbed my arm didn't even startle me.
"Blake please," I said, fumbling for words to silence his tirade. "Please," I repeated, "I love you. I wouldn't ever-" I was cut off mid sentence when his hand sunk into my hair, gripped hard, and twisted. I cried out in pain. Again I realized my mistake.