Trapped

Whether or not they would ever admit it out loud, I knew it wasn't exactly easy for my parents to have me around under the circumstances and the situations I put them in. I didn't want them to feel that way. I didn't want to be a burden on the people who raised me, so I did my best to make it easier for them. I cleaned up around the house, did the dishes, washed clothes, and even took out the trash; all the things I begged to get out of doing when I was a kid. This time, I didn't mind. No, this time, it gave me something to do instead of sitting around bored all the time.

One day on a warm summer morning in June, I overheard my parents getting the shopping list together so my mom could go to the store. Wanting to help as much as possible, I told them I'd go for them. When they heard me, they were more than skeptical of the idea, but my dad was the only one to voice this emotion by asking me if I was sure. Anyone on the outside looking in probably thought the question was one from a dad being normally careful, but I knew otherwise. Behind those three words was a whole other load of underlying questions that I was almost positive my parents tried to tip-toe around. One of the most obvious ones was, "What about TJ?" But they'd never come out and say it because they saw me as one would see a Christmas ornament; fragile and easily broken.

I chose to ignore the underlying questions and instead told them that I was sure. This caused my dad to shrug and toss me the all too familiar keys to one of the vehicles in the garage. While my mother got the shopping list together, I went upstairs to change out of my sweats and into a pair of jeans that I paired with a simple top and a thin cardigan. Finishing the look off with a pair of converse for shoes, I headed back downstairs to find my parents cuddled up on the couch together.

My mother smiled and pointed me in the direction of the kitchen, where I found the grocery list and what looked like my dad's cell phone.

Armed with a long list of groceries and a cell phone courtesy of my father in my back pocket, I was more than ready to get this shopping done. I grabbed a metal shopping cart and took off to get the warm stuff first. I would get the cold items near the end of my trip, so nothing would melt or get hot. I knew we needed paper towels and toilet paper, both of which were at the top of the list, so I headed in that direction while it was on my mind.

It wasn't until I was halfway through the list that I found myself face to face with someone I never wanted to see; Dalton Neil Harrison. He was TJ's right-hand man and creepy as all get out.

"Well, look who it is!" He grinned, almost sarcastically. "You know TJ's looking for you, right? He says he wants you back so he can show you real pain." He laughed almost manically. "No one will be able to recognize you when he's through with you, baby."

"You're sick," I hissed at him, repulsed at the fact that he found his words funny.

I turned to push my cart in the other direction, trying to get away from the creep before me, but he grabbed me from behind before I could. "Let go of me!"

"Why should I?" He snickered. "You wouldn't dare scream. Would you, Kymmie?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You wanna bet?"

"Oh ho ho," He chuckled. "Little Stevens has balls," He moved his mouth closer to my ear, his breath hitting my neck and shoulder in repulsive waves. "I dare you to do it, Kymber." He chuckled. "I dare you to draw attention to us because when you do, everyone will see just how pathetic you truly are."

"Screw you!" I huffed.

"Oh, honey," He murmured. "That sounds like fun, but I don't think your boyfriend would allow it. TJ isn't very good at sharing his things!"

"He's not my boyfriend! And I'm not a thing!" I huffed. "Now, let go of me!"

"Then, what are you, babe?"

"Certainly not your babe!"

"She's a woman, Harrison." Dalton let go of me to turn and see who dared to intervene. I knew that voice, though. It was so familiar. "Which is why you should keep your hands off of her."

Turning to face my hero, I felt my heartbeat quicken up. I knew that face; those pretty brown eyes, dark hair, ad sun-kissed skin. The high cheekbones were a dead giveaway, though.

Dalton looked pissed that someone was telling him what to do. "This doesn't concern you, asshole."

"Actually, it does," Brent mentioned. "I know the girl you're manhandling, and I don't exactly like the way you're talking to her."

"Oh, yeah?" Dalton questioned, sarcastically. "Well, you can have her, then!" He shoved me towards Brent in a rough manner, grinning as I nearly tripped over my feet. "Fucking klutz. We'll be back for you, Kymber. Just you wait. . . " And with that, he was gone, leaving me to cling onto Brent Haner for comfort.



"What exactly did he do to you, Kymmie?"

Turning to face him, I let out a rough sigh. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Well, no, I'm not sure I want to know, but I need to know, Kymber." Brent sighed. "Its hard to explain, but I feel like it would help you to talk about it."

Sending him a small smile, I looked up to the sky as I thought about how to start. "I tried not to do anything to upset him, but that didn't ever work out, seeing as just breathing the same air as him seemed to set him off most days. I tried to be perfect, but no matter what I did, he was never satisfied." I paused momentarily as I began to remember it all as if it were yesterday. "I remember one time, he got mad because there were dishes in the sink, and he slapped me so hard, I fell to the ground, spitting up blood. He always just laughed at my pain. He was cruel and merciless, and I grew to despise everything he stood for, but I was too scared to leave."

"Why? I mean, you know your brother would've killed anyone who even thought about hurting you. Not to mention what everyone else would've done. All you had to do was tell us, Kymberlin."

"That's just it, Brent! I couldn't tell anyone. Everyone was busy with their own things in their own life, and I just told myself that I could handle it.

"But that's just it, Kymberlin; you couldn't handle it — and no person should have to. You're lucky to even still be alive, do you know that?"

"Of course I know that," I mumbled. "How could I forget? I told myself I was lucky to be alive every time he got mad and decided to 'punish' me." I sighed aloud as all these emotions came over me. "He had some kind of power over, some kind of hold that left me too scared to do anything to protect myself. He broke down my barriers and I hate that I allowed him to, but once he was in my head, he was there to stay. I couldn't do anything to stop him."

"Its called fear, and it does a number on the human mind," He told me. "It can make a person do something he or she wouldn't normally do."

"Even cut off all ties to their family and friends to protect themselves . . ?"

"No one blames you for that, Kymmie."

"How could they not, Brent? I did it to protect my own ass. I was being selfish."

"Is that really how you see it?" He murmured, pulling me closer to him. "Kymmie, you're not selfish. Selfish people do things that benefit only themselves. You did that to keep us from seeing into your world, to protect us from TJ and his many friends. You didn't do it to save your own ass, Kymmie. I know you didn't." He stated, nearly positively. "He still hit you, even after you lost contact with us. You're a good person."

"No, I'm not," I replied, shaking my head as I found myself crying for the first time in a long time. "And I'm almost positive my brother and yours would agree that I'm not."

"You mean because you slept with Brian and never told Matt and then cut off ties with everyone, that makes you a bad person . . . ?" He chuckled. "Everyone knows you and my brother had a thing, babe — even your brother. Of course, he didn't find out until after you cut off ties with us, but he was still pissed. I think he thought my brother talked you into something you weren't ready for."

"That's . . . embarrassing." I giggled. "I'm just glad it was Brian and not some other asshole."

Brent was quiet after that, but not for long. "Kymmie . . . I," He paused for a few seconds to gather his words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that. I wish . . . I could have done something to help you."

"It's not your fault." I smiled at him. "There was nothing you could have done. I made the decision to stay with him, and I had to deal with the consequences. Don't blame yourself, Brent."

"Does anyone else know you're here?"

I felt somewhat ashamed of my next answer. "Jimmy and Johnny do," I told him. "Johnny knows because his girlfriend is the one that brought me to my parents house. Jimmy knows simply because he was there when he wasn't supposed to be. His wife, Leana, also knows, but that's it." I told him, honestly. "I didn't want anyone else to see me like this . . . I —"

"Like what? I see nothing wrong with you, Kymberlin."

"Well, it started out like that because I was bruised and scratched and more than messed up, but now I'm not so sure anymore. I think I may just be scared . . . I mean, can you imagine what my brother thinks of me after years of no contact? What about Brian and Zacky?"

"The same thing you did when they stopped talking to us."

"So, they think I hate them?"

Brent rolled his eyes and shoved me playfully. "They don't hate you, and they never did."

When I didn't respond to him, he grabbed my chin and looked me in the eyes. "Kymber, will you promise me something?"

Looking into his pretty brown eyes, I nodded my head. "Anything,"