But You Said You Loved Me

I sighed as I waited outside of my house, my left foot on the first step of our porch. The sun was still glaring heat-waves down on my skin, and I could already feel the perspiration accumulating, if it were possible. My feet would be gross that was for sure. I grunted, climbed up the four steps and sat down on the little bench with a heavy sigh, letting my bag fall to the boards beneath my feet.

After I had left English, Heath was waiting for me outside the room. I was scared shitless, but knew that I was in school with people rushing about, trying to run home. His intense gaze had me cowering, just like it has been for the past couple of months. We didn’t start dating until the middle of our junior year, and he was a perfect gentleman up until late summer—right before school started. Right around the time I had asked him if we could try and sustain from sex, just for a little bit because I was afraid I was pregnant. I wasn’t, but he clearly hadn’t liked the idea.

That’s when he had started pinching me—rather hard, really. It began to leave bruises all over my skin. I had to cover them up with my clothing, or even my cover up. I’ve used more cover up within the past couple of months than I’ve used in a year. “What did he say to you?” He snapped, his bright blue eyes glaring at me. I breathed in and tried to ignore that fact that his vibe was spitting out how angry he was. “Did you touch you, or even look at you in the wrong way? Because I saw him reach out and grab you.” I winced at the menace in his tone and choked at the irony. Grabbed me in the wrong way? Wasn’t that what he was just doing? What the fuck entails wrong for him?

There are times, such as this, that I honestly feel that Heath could kill someone, anyone, with the snap of his fingers. He was on the wrestling team, and was really good at what he did. Sometimes, I fear that I stay with him because I’m scared shitless. But then he’ll have those rare and beautiful moments, where I remember that I loved him.

I’m just not so sure anymore. “That’s ridiculous.” I muttered, trying to go around him. He side-stepped in front of me, however, clearly having ulterior motives. I looked behind me to see that the door was closed and I could just picture him sitting there at his desk, getting ready to leave. I begged for him to make an entrance right now.

But life didn’t work that way. “I need to get to my locker, Heath. I have work at five, and you’re wasting my time.” I gasped as he grabbed my injured hard tightly, in the same spot, and yanked me. I looked around see that the hallways have emptied out. He began pulling me down the hall. Before I knew it, he was yanking me into the mens room. When the door hit the frame, it made a loud noise but it was drowned out by my cry.

My back was slammed into the hard wall and he was pushing up against me, his face millimeters from my own. “Wasting your time?” He snickered, “I’ll tell you what.” His hand removed itself from my arm, went to rest on the wall while his free one came up and grasped my chin—his grasp was strong—I could already feel a bruise coming. I sucked up the pain though. “You’re a waste of fucking time, Eleanor. “You won’t fuck me, Ellie. You won’t touch me. You can’t even rightfully look me in the eyes—not like you used to. I’ve begun to wonder if you’re fucking someone else behind my back. That’s what you girls do, right?” He tightened his grasp on my chin and I let a whimper slip past my lips.

“Heath, please,” I cried out in pain, the best I could. “I’m sorry, I really am! You know I wouldn’t do that to you, baby, please.” I begged. Tears began to slip past me just as he was about to say something. “I love you, I do, but I was scared.”

“From what?” He spat out.

“I thought I was…please, it hurts, let go.” He had begun to tighten his hold. “I’ll explain, baby, please.” He ripped his hand away from my face, but he didn’t move from me. I watched him for a few seconds, gathering myself before I could get my thoughts together. I never really told him why I had asked him to stop. Part of the reason why I don’t touch him like I did before was because I was scared—I was so scared to the point where I thought that I would touch him wrong and he’d flip.

“You thought, what, Eleanor?”

He couldn’t even let me breathe for a fucking second? Angered suddenly, I lifted my head and glared at him—looking him straight in the eyes. “I thought that I was pregnant, you asshole!” I spat out.

And it didn’t progress. He just looked down at me, his arm still beside my head. I took his silence as my way out, pushed him away from me and ran out of there. Josh’s door was still closed, and I found myself wondering if he had left or was still in the room. Instead of finding out, I found my way home and here I was, sitting on our little white bench on our little farmer’s porch.

I was scuffing my shoes up more as I swung my feet back and forth, leaning over with my palms hanging off the edge of the bench. My arm and jaw hurt, but I haven’t even looked at what damaged he had done. I didn’t even care right now, I was just so upset. My fingers itched for my paint and my canvas, but I wasn’t in the mood for it.

I was brooding.

“Ellie?” I looked up to see Jake sitting there, his face showing that he had just gotten up. He was not supporting a pair of basketball shorts and no top. He was rubbing the back of his head with his left hand. Then he stopped moving all together, his eyes glued to my chin. In a matter of seconds he was standing in front of me, grasping my bruised chin lightly—it stung a bit, but I bit back the tears. “Who did this?” He seethed his eyes full of brother love and worry. I shrugged and casted my eyes down, something I do when I lie.

“No one, don’t worry about it.” I whispered. But he knew me too well. There was a slight hitch in my voice, and I realized I hadn’t even tried to cover it. Jake let go of my chin and sat down beside me. Suddenly, I was a mess and water was leaking from my eyes like faucets. I felt his arms wrapping around me and bringing me into his warm body. It was already so hot, but it was comforting. So I curled up into the bench and sobbed into his body.

“Ellie, what’s wrong? Who hurt you?” He said, trying to coax the answer from me. I knew that I shouldn’t say who did it, because he would go after Heath in a heartbeat—he wouldn’t dare to think about it. His family came first—it’s always been like that. It’s something I admired about him—he wasn’t selfish, well when it came to his family. Maybe he was a bit selfish when it came to Sarah.

But honestly, my brother is a wonderful guy and would someday make a great husband and father. His kids would be smothered in affection.

“I just…” I whimpered out, “Just be quiet okay?” I whispered. “I’m glad you’re home Jacob, I totally am. And I’m sorry for being this way right now, but just give me a bit, okay?” Jake nodded, kissed my temple and I looked away, out at the passing cars—the few ones that we got on our road. We were in the middle of nowhere, really. It was times like this that I really missed having the animals, but when Dad passed away and we were granted all this money we had to use it for other reasons. So we had to sell the animals.

Now we just have a lonely barn.

__

Later on that night, I was locked away in my room with some old CD I found that I had burned when I was younger. It varied of Taylor Swift to My Chemical Romance. But it didn’t matter anyways, I was painting and I was in my own world as I did so.

Right now, Taylors Song ‘Last Kiss’ was playing and I stopped painting—the canvas nearly filled with shades of blues. Sighing, I sat down on my bed and stared at the canvas, her voice drowning me in my own sorrow.

I tried to pinpoint any signs that Heath is abusive, but I can’t find anything. He has always, within these past three year I’ve known him, been a great person. He held doors open, pulled out my chairs, and held my books. This is what makes me incredibly sad—he’s a different person. I don’t know this Heath—this, manipulative, jealous and zealous Heath. Who was he? Have I just met the real Heath, or is this someone else entirely? The soreness on my jaw told me that this was the Heath, that I was really just meeting him.

I pulled my legs up and rested my chin on my bare knees. I had changed into something less warmer—a pair of shorts, a ratty t-shirts and some random socks. I hated not wearing socks. Mostly just because I hated my feet.

“Ellie?” I looked up to see my mum sitting there, her eyes landing on me. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun and she sporting her work clothes. Her face showed me how worried she was and I sighed. “Jake said you weren’t doing to well, so I figured I’d come and talk to you.”

I bit my lip and returned my head to my knees as she made her way over towards me. I felt the spot besides me dip and could feel her body next to mine. We stayed quiet for a little bit, and I kind of just enjoyed my mother’s presence. But I needed her. “Mom,” I whispered softly, my eyes stinging, “How do you know if you really know someone?” I asked.

Her bright blue eyes found mine and she frowned. I felt her hand find my back and she began to run her hand in a circle, it was soothing. “What do you mean, baby?” She asked me. I sighed, dropped my legs and turned so that I was facing her. Her head was tilted in worry. She was such an empathetic woman—and strong. My mother was the strongest woman I have ever known. Even when we got news that Dad had passed away, she was strong. It was almost like she was a fortress, holding up the grounds when she knew that Jake and I just couldn’t.

I wouldn’t forget that year at all.

“I mean,” I said, struggling to get the right explanation. “Like, how are you sure that you know someone? How you so sure it’s really them?”

She sighed, “You don’t, baby.”

I frowned. “But then what’s the use of getting to know someone?” I muttered, my eyes brimming with tears. “Like, what’s the use of getting to know someone if all they are going to do is change in the end?”

She frowned, “Baby, is this about the bruise on your chin?” He hand came out to softly grasp my chin, her eyes looking at me with concern. “Because, if this was due to because someone had changed...well, that’s just because you didn’t know him to begin with.”

“I’ve known Heath for nearly four years now.” I murmured. Mum removed her hand from my chin and instead removed some of my hair from my face.

“All I can say is this, okay?” I bit my lip and nodded and watched as she sighed, her shoulder going along with it. Both hands came up to cup my face—the warmth of her palms somehow giving me some hope, and maybe a little strength. I sniffled and she smiled warmly. “It is okay to not know someone. I was still getting to know your father up until he passed. Believe me, I found things out about him every day—it was always something new. The way he brushed what little hair he had, the way he would brush his teeth and then eat…I even found out that he never liked my chicken, but he ate it anyway.” She chuckled, her eyes glazing over. I felt a tug at center of my chest at the mention of my father. He was a great man, too. “But I knew who he was, and he wasn’t like this.” She took one hand and put it to my chin. “He didn’t do this to me.”

I felt a sob rise up in my throat. “And it’s okay,” She murmured, “it’s okay if you don’t love him. There is no need to be afraid. If he were a man, he wouldn’t touch you like this.” I was crying now, as mom looked at me.

“I do love him though.” I whispered sadly. I lifted my palm up and wiped at my eyes, her hands gone from my face. “And I feel that, if I don’t love him, I’m betraying him.”

She scoffed. “It’s bad for you to betray him, but when he lifts a fist your face, it isn’t betraying? Baby, you are my daughter. You’re stronger than this—don’t stay with him because you feel like you have to. And don’t love him because it’s your job to. Love him because you want to, touch him because you like to. But not because you feel like you have to.” I bit my lip to keep in another sob while I nodded my head. “Baby, this is life, and like it or not, it’s going to bite you in the ass. But it’s your choice to make those moments’ memories, or the past. Do you understand what I am saying? Because my daughter would never flinch at a fist, but rather fight her way through it.” She stood up, kissed my temple and smiled. “Dinner will be done in an hour. Clean up, come downstairs and chat with your brother and I.