Lie In The Grass, Next To The Mausoleum

I don't even remember who won. Honestly.
I watched Pete jog off of the field and grab his water bottle before running over to me. His body slammed into mine and he wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the grass and swinging me around. I laughed, feeling my smooth cheek brush against his prickly one and rubbed his back.

"Great job." I grinned once he let me down. He reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Thanks for coming." He said quietly, his hand lingering on my cheek, which burned.

"Any excuse to watch you for two hours." I confessed, winking.

**************************************
"Mom?" I asked cautiously, pushing the door open. I hadn't been home for five days, so I was a little nervous about what my parents would say if I just came back to get some clothes and then left again.
Pete, Siobhan, and Casey were waiting out by the mailbox.
They had wanted to come in but Siobhan and I managed to talk them out of it on the grounds that my "parents were really religious and didn't like me hanging out with boys". Total bullshit, but hey, all for the greater good.

"Where the hell have you been?"
I jumped as my fathers voice boomed from the top of the stairs, and he descended them menacingly.

"I was at Siobhan's." I said quickly, looking at the floor as my father's shadow loomed over me.

"Didn't we discuss Siobhan's?" He asked quietly, cocking his head to the side. This was not good. He only got quiet when he was about to explode.

"Yes." I said, in barely a whisper. He grabbed my chin and wrenched it up so I was looking him in the face. My jaw ached as his fingers dug into my skin but I remained quiet and still.

"Look at me when you're taking to me, Evangeline." He said warningly, so I looked him right in the face and said

"YES." loudly.
There was a loud crack as his palm met my cheek. My ears rang as I staggered backward; steadying myself on the back of the sofa and willing back the tears threatening to pour from my eyes.

"Don't you dare get smart with me!" He yelled, and I winced, desperately hoping the boys hadn't heard it. He grabbed my arm roughly and yanked me toward him, shaking me violently. I felt his nails piercing my flesh and I sniffled, trying to pull away.

"Trying to get away from me?!" He bellowed, shaking me harder. I felt my face scrunch up like it does when you're about to cry and I shook my head, silently willing him to stop yelling.
He shoved me back, and I fell to the wood floor, taking great racking breaths.

"Get out." He whispered, and I scrambled up off of the floor, running for the door but not making it. I felt his foot connect with my lower back, and cried out as I smashed into the screen door.

"Out!" He screamed, and I fumbled quickly with the handle before bursting out onto the doorstep. I wilted as I saw Pete and Casey staring at me with wide eyes, and Siobhan looking down, tears running down her cheeks.
I couldn't even look them in the face.
I just kept running.
I ran as far as I could, feeling the sting as my tears left flowed into the fingernail scratches on my jaw line, and crying out when someone seized my arm.
For a minute, I thought it was my father.
But then I realized that the pain was coming from the blue bruises already on my arm, and not the gentle hand which had closed around my shoulder.
I slowed to a jog before collapsing onto the sidewalk, my body shaking with sobs.
Why did it have to be like this?
Pete dropped to the ground beside me (never try to outrun a soccer player) and put his hand on the back of my neck softly.
I cried harder, pulling away as he tried to hug me, and instead got back to my feet. I covered my face as I walked away from him quickly, just wanting him to leave me alone.
I didn't want him to see what I really was. This was beyond the façade he had been "falling for." This was really me. A whimpering crying, frightened child.

Pete had jogged ahead so he was in front of me, and wrapped his arms around my body, clutching me to him like a rag doll. I tried to pull away, but Pete was stronger than me, and he held me in place, whispering

"Shhhhh…" and stroking my hair.
I dissolved into tears. No, it was beyond tears. It was hysteria.
My lungs racked with sobs and I gasped for breath, coughing and crying and hiccupping all at the same time.
Pete held me tightly as I melted, wrapping his arms around my waist and rocking slightly as I bawled into his shoulder. I cried because my father slapped me, I cried because Pete had heard him yelling like that, but mostly I cried because Pete was seeing me like this. Everything else would be okay if he thought that those things didn't bother me; if he thought I was strong.
But they did bother me.
And I wasn't strong.