We All Need That Person Who Can Be True to You

"What's wrong with caring?" I asked at lunch the next day. "And do I need a reason?"

"Nothing.... Just that we only really spoke that one day a week ago and.... it's weird," Bridget mumbled, shaking her head. Apparently she wasn't used to the idea of people caring for her. What about her parents?

"Why is it weird?" I questioned. "You've got parents that care about you, right?"

She actually scoffed at that. "You obviously haven't figured out what Concrete Angel is."

"I've been meaning to ask about that.... What the hell is Concrete Angel?" Bridget shook her head, not answering. "A hint?"

She gnawed on her bottom lip, thinking. "M.M."

"Cryptic much?"

Bridget shrugged nonchalantly. "You asked," she said simply before taking a bite out of her sandwich.

I pouted at her, using my best kicked puppy expression. She merely stared at me, one eyebrow raised. "Cute. But that ain't gonna work."

"What?!" I gasped in mock outrage, not missing that ever-so-tiny flinch of hers. "That's absurd!" Bridget rolled her eyes. "But it always works," I resorted to whining now.

Bridget snorted in laughter, then started cracking up. "That was too cute!" she cooed when she settled down. "Wow. I haven't laughed that hard since....ever actually." She looked a little puzzled, as if remember. Then nodded as if to confirm her words. Bridget looked up at me, her blue-gray eyes showing a sincere smile. "So you'll give me a ride after school?"

-----

"Barbie Girl? Really, Matthew?" Bridget asked incredulously, her qeustion directed to the bigteddy bear guy who nodded. She giggled, flashing a bright smile.

She and the guys warmed up to each other instantly, cracking jokes, jokingly flirting, just screwing around. Bridget had called her parents, asking if she could stay for the weekend, she sounded surprised when they did. We were on the beach, soda in hand, sitting around a bonfire and eating s'mores. Bridget was on the sand, leaning back against my legs, a lazy smile on her face. She fit right in, seeming at ease, so what was the problem?

"Brian? Yo! Earth to Brian!" Zack tried getting my attention. I looked up, startled. "Morning, Sunshine!" I scowled at him and he grinned cheekily. "So are you bringing B to band practice tomorrow?"

"Duh. You'd think I'd leave her at my place bored out of her mind?"

He shrugged and Bridget yawned quietly. Honestly, I wouldn't have even noticed if I didn't turn around just then. "Tired?" I asked, ruffling her hair. Hey, her hair's pretty soft..... Okaaaay, ignoring that thought. She blinked a couple of times and nodded, tilting her head back on my knees and looked up at me. "Alright, bed time for our Little One," I teased, getting up carefully and helped Bridget to her feet. She stuck her tongue out at me but didn't say anything. "Later."

"Leaving so soon?" Michelle pouted, I could see thesubtle glare she was giving Bridget.

Bridget shrugged sleepily, resting her forehead on my chest, mumbling something I couldn't make out. Sounded something like 'sleepy time' but I couldn't be too sure. "Yeah, nappy time for Baby." Val laughed. "We'll see ya Brian."

"Yeah. Later." I said again. "Come on, B. "I murmured, taking her heand and took her back to my old, still in good condition, 1976 Mustang.

Bridget trudged behind automatically, I had to reach across her and get her seatbelt. Just as I was clippping it in, I noticed the black and blue bruise on the sliver of skin showing from her raised shirt. Something's wrong here.....

------

Slowly, carefully, I set Bridget down on the bed, eyes fixated on that spot on her lower abdomen. Taking a deep breath, I pushed her shirt up, more evidence of an injury showed. Pushing the shirt up to just under her chest revealed all the bruises and cuts on her stomach. Swallowing the hard lump lodged in my throat, I reached out, brushing my fingers across one of the brusies, focused on the long jagged scar racing across her stomach.

Bridget squirmed under my heand, settling down when I lifted my hand. With a heavy sigh, I grabbed a shirt and pajama pants, carefully stripping her down to her underwear, wincing at the infected-looking wounds I saw. Not all of them were from another person, some were self-inflicted. Slowly dressing her, my heart wept and crumbled for this broken girl..... my broken angel.