The Bet

"I'm going to give you fair warning about the next one: it's graphic." Shayla looked Billie in the eyes as she was giving him a sincere warning. Her book of sketches, polaroids, and portraits were spread across both of their laps as they were going through one page at a time.

"Is is personal?" He asked, beginning to turn the page. Impatient.

"It's personal. It's me. But you have to understand that this is what has happened in the past. It's not...as much anymore."

He knew what she meant, so he finished flipping the page.

It was a self-portrait of her legs. Thin, frail, bruised.

"This is beautiful in a twisted sort of way." He complimented, looking up at her in a different light.

"That was the worst night. That is the worst it's ever gotten. This was in the beginning. I photographed the damage and eventually used it for an art project."

"We don't have to do this anymore if you're not comfortable--"

"It's ok." Shayla smiled, urging him to turn the page.

The front door slammed shut downstairs and Shayla's smiled disappeared as fast as it had come. Billie closed the book and stood up, not knowing where to go from there.

"I'll be right back. Stay here." She hissed through her teeth, making sure to present herself like she didn't have a strange boy in her bedroom.

*

As she descended down the stairs she could hear the clanking of beer bottles being put away in the fridge.

"Dad, you're home early." She forced a smile and made sure to keep the island between them.

Her dad stopped stacking the bottles and stumbled as he turned toward his daughter.

"Shayla, were the fuck have you ben the past da-week-ends?" He slurred, grabbing onto the island to hold himself up.

Shayla was suddenly thankful that Billie had ridden with her instead of taking his own car. At least she wouldn't have to explain that.

"Oh, I went to a social gathering with Dave."

"And that took all weekend?" He yelled, hitting the empty bottle and it fell off the marble counter, smashing at her feet. She tried to move so she wouldn't step on a piece, but his sudden yelling caused her to step right in the middle of the pile.

"You better not disappoint me this year, Shayla! This is the final fucking year and you better not start going out and partying on the weekends and throwing your life away! Your Chemistry teacher called this afternoon and said you were slacking and said she was worried about your grade! Why are you slacking you stupid whore!"

"I'm not a slut and I'm not partying! I study my ass off every single night for school so I can get out of here. Why would I slack and throw my grades down the drain? That would just get me stuck here with you and that's the last thing I want!"

She stepped backward and crushed the rest of the bottle beneath her feet. She cringed and began to hop away on her right foot.

"Don't fucking walk away from me, young lady!" He yelled, coming toward her.

"I have to go take care of my foot, you asshole. You made me step on pieces of glass." She hissed as her eyes threatened tears. She hopped toward the staircase and started going up on her hands and knees; not wanting to disturb her foot.

*

Billie Joe listened downstairs as the voices suddenly became silent. He slowly pushed her door open, peeking around the corner and saw Shayla crawling down the hallway toward him with tears in her eyes.

"Shayla," He whispered, "What happened?"

"I stepped on glass," She cried, "Can you pick me up?"

She looked up at him and seeing the tears in her eyes pulled at his heart. He nodded silently and bent down to pick her up in his arms bridal style.

"On both of your feet, or just one?" He asked, trying to navigate to her bedroom as silently as he could.

"Just one. My left. I'll need you to go into the bathroom across the hall and grab my first-aid kit."

"I'll do everything. Don't you worry baby." He sat her down on her soft bed and put her foot up on her desk chair.

As he headed for the bathroom, Shayla spoke up.

"Billie."

"Yeah?" He looked at her with a concerned face.

"You're not freaked out or anything?"

"You know, my dad died when I was ten. My mom has dated plenty of guys since then and some of them have been abusive. Trust me, I kind of know what it's like to be in the same household as abuse."

"I'm glad you're here." Shayla announced, feeling brave.

"I'm going to protect you. I promise." He half-smiled before disappearing into the hallway.

Shayla smiled as her eyes started to water again, but for a different reason: happiness.