My body is a mosaic of black and blue and purple.
A fist shaped bruise on my rib cage; purple fingerprints marking my upper arm; dark smudges under my eyes, unconcealable even with the strongest of make-up.
Like always, bile rises up my throat as my eyes sweep over my bare body, covered only by a pair of matching black bra and underpants. But I bite down on my tongue, hard, to keep the nausea at bay. A metallic taste fills my mouth but I ignore it. My tongue must be permanently scarred from biting down on it so much.
I turn away from my mirror, reaching out to grab the light brown sweater I had laid out the night before. I inspect it carefully to make sure there are no stains or rips, then pull it over my thin frame. The soft, knitted material engulfs me, the hemline coming to an end halfway down my thighs. I push back the long sleeves and continue getting dressed, keeping my back to the mirror the entire time.
The entire lunch table grows quiet the moment I arrive. Averted gazes, pursed lips, and awkward silence are the things that greet me. I smile halfheartedly at my group of friends and take a seat between Robbie and Andre. The only one who doesn't look away from me is Beck; his warm brown eyes are unusually intense, and I have to look away. But I can still feel his gaze on me, until finally, I sigh.
"Yes, Beckett?" I say, stabbing my spaghetti with a fork, which my mother had packed for me the night before from our dinner leftovers.
"You look awful." He's blunt, but that's how Beck's always been. No beating around the bush. It's usually Jade greeting me with these type of straight to the point comments, but she isn't here today.
The casual conversation that had started with the other members of the group stop, and they all turn to look at either Beck or me. I shrug, dropping my fork and pushing back the plate of food in front of me. Lately, my stomach has been extremely picky, and the spaghetti suddenly seems unappealing to me.
"Gee, thanks." Good. Sarcasm usually works well with Beck. I manage to look up and give him a mock glare, earning a chuckle from Robbie and Andre and Cat. Beck, however, doesn't crack a smile. He still stares at me, even as I give him the reassuring smile that I've mastered now.
"Can we talk? In private?" He doesn't give me the chance to respond. He just gets up and walks off, leaving behind his half-eaten turkey sandwich. I bite my lip, considering just ignoring him, because I know what's coming, The questions from him, the lies from me, the fake smiles and reassurances that always come across just a tad too bright. But I can feel the questioning looks from Cat and Andre and Robbie, and I know it's either them or him. So I get up and follow.
He leads me inside the school, to the empty hallway in front of my locker. All of the other kids are either at lunch outside or in class. He stops and turns to look at me, his arms crossed. I can see the questions in his eyes, the worry. And it brings tears to my eyes that I struggle to blink back.
"Tori...what's going? And don't give my any lies."
"Beck, I'm fine. I don't know-"
He reaches out to me and I flinch back roughly, backing up into my locker. Beck freezes. And then the scariest thing happens: his eyes fill with understanding. I can see every emotion flit through his wide eyes: shock, hurt, understanding, pain, anger, and worst of all, sadness. I close my eyes and hold my breath as he reaches out once more, slowly, until I feel his touch on my hand. gently pulling back my sleeve. He gasps, and I flinch, slightly this time.
I expect a lot of things: disgust, accusations, anger. But what I don't expect is him, wrapping his arms around me and dragging me back against his chest. He ignores my protests, and instead hugs me tighter. His hugs are suffocating and constricting. But Beck's arms make me feel safe. Safe and warm and light. Which is strange, considering I've never felt more grounded in my life. It takes me a while, but he doesn't let go until I let myself go - something I haven't done in what seems like forever. The tears flow freely now, soaking into his back t-shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind. I don't have to explain myself. He seems to already know. I have a sneaking suspicion he always knew, and he just wanted confirmation. He doesn't say anything, just holds me until I've cried myself out.
"We'll figure this out together," he says, his voice thick. I close my eyes and he squeezes me tighter. I nod as he repeats himself, although I know there's nothing to figure out. Nothing anyone can say or do will change anything. But I don't stay this.
"Yes, we will," I whisper back. "I know we will." It makes me feel dirty, telling him these lies. Because it reminds me of Him, of how he would whisper his sweet lies in my ears that pulls my back to him every time. Despite the fact that I know nothing will change, I listen to him. And now the situation is reversed as I whisper my lies to Beck. I want to tell him the truth. But instead, I bite down on my tongue and cry.