Chapter 7 – Art In The Park (Part 2)
What are you doing? Safety-Comes-First-River shouts inside my head. You've only known her for a week!
The realization is like cold water being dumped on my face.
"Um…" I carefully lift myself off of her body. "Sorry." I finish, snapped out of my trance.
She sits up and leans back on her elbows, looking only slightly confused.
"That's okay." She says.
I look around to find something to stare at, other than her.
I focus back on the painting, and then the paints.
"Maybe we should finish the painting?" I ask her, hesitantly turning my head back to face her.
She's sitting completely upright now.
"Sure." She says, longing swirling in her eyes.
I look away.
That is, until she leans forward, her top gaping in front of me.
Not. Helping.
With physical restraint, I force my eyes back to the painting and start mixing up various shades of black and grey watercolour.
For the rest of the time in the park, Willow and I paint the picture, using the watercolour.
As the time hits 1:00, we only have to paint the eyes.
"Uh, what colour do you want to use for the eyes?" I ask Willow, coughing as my voice breaks.
We had barely spoken to each other for the 2 hours, only talking when we had an occasional small comment on the artwork.
She wipes her hair away from her forehead, and tucks the paintbrush behind her ear to keep it there.
"What colour do you want to use?" She questions.
"I was thinking green because of, you know, your eyes." I say, looking up at her.
She was smiling softly.
"Okay," She whispers. "Green it is."
With that, I mix up a watercolour to match her eyes and start working on the drawing, making the green as close to her actual eye colour as possible.
Another half an hour, and the entire painting is finished.
I stand up, brushing dirt off of my pants before grabbing Willow's hand and helping her up, another spark flying through my arm as we make contact.
She stands beside me, but doesn't let go of my hand.
And I don't want her to.
Sure, before I hadn't done what I had wanted to with her, but I could still hold her hand.
Right?
We gaze down at the piece of art and Willow sighs, resting her head on my shoulder again.
"It looks beautiful, River." She says quietly.
"Hey, you did most of the painting." I say. I didn't like taking a lot of credit.
"No, I didn't." She says, and gazes up at me.
I gaze back down at her, before flicking a glance to her lips.
A mistake.
Now I couldn't look away.
Stop it! My mind yells at me.
I groan and manage to tear my focus away from her.
"What?" She asks, hurt.
I close my eyes and use my free hand to rub my temple.
"It's just… I've only known you a week, and I don't want to do anything you or I might regret. But, if I keep staring at you, or touching you, I have a strong feeling that plan is going to fail." I say, peeking one eye open tentatively, fearing her reaction.
Her eyes are shining, but not with tears.
"So, does that mean you… like me? Or something?" She asks, hope in her words.
I look at her.
I look at her angelic face and hair and body.
I look at the painting we have both just completed together.
And I look at all of her inner beauty.
Yes, I did like her.
A lot.
"Yes." I whisper, praying that was what she wanted to hear as I focus pointedly on my feet.
People were right in saying how hard it is for a guy to admit his feelings to a girl. Hell, I'd only known this girl a week, making it a lot harder to determine how she was going to react to what I told her.
Her hand appears in my line of vision, and she places her fingers gently under my chin, lifting it up.
I look directly into her eyes, getting caught up in all that gorgeous green.
"I like you too." She whispers back to me, and my heart soars, my eyes going wide.
She liked me too?
I felt like someone should pinch me, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming and that this was reality.
Her phone rings all of a sudden, and we both jump.
Yup, reality.
She gives me an apologetic look and I wave her off.
"Answer it." I say as calmly as I can, considering the fact that the girl I had a crush on happened to have a crush on me.
She moves away and let's go of my hand, grabbing her phone from her purse and answering it.
"Hello?" She asks, and I hear someone shout from the other end of the line.
I flinch and so does she.
Inch by inch, I walk closer to her, standing beside her.
Whoever was on the other line continued to yell, and Willow listens for a while before finally trying to interject.
"No! Just– listen to me!" She pleads.
Her eyes gradually widen with panic at each word the other person screams into the phone.
I glare at the stupid device and gesture for Willow to put it on speakerphone.
She shakes her head in refusal for a second, before I gesture again.
She reluctantly puts the phone on speaker, and I listen to what this person was saying.
"You little bitch! How dare you sneak out without telling me! You are fucking in for it when you get home you hear me? Fucking little shit!" This… man yells at Willow.
I growl softly.
Her eyes are shining again, this time they are with tears. She runs a hand through her hair.
"I'm sorry!" She sniffles.
"You better be you little bitch! You think your real Daddy would have let you do something like this too? I'm telling you right now he would be calling you up exactly like I am!"
At that line, Willow's sniffling stops and something hard settles in her eyes.
Her unexpectedly cold voice answers this man after a moment.
"You have no fucking idea what my real Dad would have done." She snarls into her phone, and an uncomfortable silence greets her. "If you ever speak about him like that again, I assure you, you will be leaving the fucking house with your ass hitting the doorframe on the way out. You hear me?!" She cries and I place my hand on her lower back, trying to comfort her while being in partial shock over hearing her swear.
She takes a breath and hangs up the phone.
I stare at her, rubbing circles into her back, before pulling her into a hug.
She buries her face in my shoulder, and a soft sob escapes her lips.
Oh, shit…
"That guy is a fucking bastard, Willow." I say in her ear, and I promise to myself that that is the only time I will swear in such a way in front of her.
I feel her tears on my shirt, and I can't help remembering when I was crying on Caro's shoulder.
The feeling of seeing someone like this…
It's awful.
"He-he's my step-father." She stutters into my neck.
I don't say anything, just continue rubbing her back and breathing into her hair.
Reluctantly, I pull away from her and settle my hands on her waist, trying to figure out a way to prevent her from going back to the fuckwit at her house.
An idea hits me.
"Do… do you want to stay at mine for the night?" I whisper, my heart thumping loudly for a number of reasons.
One, Willow could possibly be staying in my house. For the night.
Two, I would have to make sure my parents didn't know, and if my father found out, he would be very unhappy.
And three, what would my sisters think of her?
Willow sniffles.
"I don't want to be an inconvenience." She mumbles.
"You would most definitely not be an inconvenience." I mumble back and she gives a watery laugh.
"No, it's alright. It would be better if I deal with Jason now rather than later." She says as she steps out of my grip to get her things and help pack up.
"What do you mean, 'deal with him'?" I ask her curiously and she glances up from the grass.
"If I avoid him for longer, I'm much more likely to get… well, you know." She says, shame fluttering over her face before she looks back down.
"What do you mean?" I ask her, already knowing the answer, but wanting proof.
She sighs wearily, then stands and rolls her long-sleeve up her arm.
I gasp.
Bruises in colours of blue, purple and yellow litter her fair arm.
I reach out and gently run a finger across one of them, feeling Willow tense underneath my touch.
"Does it hurt?" I ask her softly.
She bites her lip.
Shit.
I drop my arm weakly, and try to banish all thought of Willow getting hit out of my head.
If I don't, I'm probably going to follow her home and beat the crap out of this 'Jason' guy.
And he most likely won't get back up.
"Willow, I don't want you going home to that guy. He'll hurt you." I say, and I knew then that I wouldn't be letting Willow go home to her step-father.
She knew it too.
"River, he won't hurt me. I know when he will. But he knows he crossed a line bringing up my… father." She ends, her voice breaking. "So, he won't." She gazes sadly up at me.
"Willow, you are not going home to him, he will hurt you and I don't think I could live with myself if he–" But I'm cut off as Willow leans forward and plants a soft kiss on my cheek.
I don't move as my body freezes up from contact, and her lips gently caress my cheek, running up and down. My face tingles as electricity shoots from her lips to my body.
Her lips stop applying pressure and just linger on my cheekbone, breathing me in.
It's not enough for me.
My hands move of their own accord to her face and cup her cheeks, bringing her face to mine, but halting as our noses touch.
She gives a breathless gasp at our proximity, but doesn't move.
I close my eyes and harshly breathe in and out, trying to compose myself.
After another moment, I pull away from her, staggering backwards as her scent and touch overpower my senses.
Wordlessly, I stalk back underneath the weeping willow and roll up our art piece, the watercolour already dry as I pack it carefully into my backpack.
I shove the art supplies and sketch pads in as well, zip up the bag and hoist it on to my shoulders.
Willow stands in front of me, appearing dazed.
I quickly walk over to her, say a farewell and hug her tightly, which she returns, before I practically sprint away from her.
I know that if I stop running, I'm going to go back and kiss her.
Properly.
And she would not be prepared for me kissing her properly.
Only when I exit the park do I feel better, although, guilt hangs around me like a cloud.
I had just left Willow alone.
I had ditched her, and now she was going to go home, alone.
To Jason.
I glare at the ground and walk to the bus stop, stalking to the very back when it arrives.
As soon as I sit down, I get out my phone and plug in my earphones.
I flick through my music absentmindedly, before selecting something that was going to block my thoughts.
Death metal.
As the screaming of the singer blares through my ears and the pounding of the drummer vibrates my body, I begin to feel slightly better.
When I arrive home, I run up to the front door and unlock it, carefully opening it wide enough so that my body can just slip through.
I softly close it behind me and turn around.
I cry out.
My father stands in front of me, holding Camilla and Caroline by the collars of their shirts, their faces battered and bleeding. Tears cutting tracks through the bloody mess.
I cover my mouth with my hand.
"I'm sorry, River. I tried." Milla whispers weakly.
My father shoves my sisters towards me and I rush forward, catching them before they hit the floor.
"Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Talk to me. Milla? Caro? Talk to me. Please." I plead pathetically, hearing their ragged breaths.
"Let this be a lesson to you, you piece of shit." My father's voice coldly addresses me.
I look up at him, tears blurring my vision.
"Why did you hurt them?!" I scream at him and he punches me across the face.
Blood sprays as my head whips with the impact, and my nose crunches.
Still, I clutch my sisters to me, not letting them fall.
They both let out gurgled screams as I yell at my nose breaking.
My father punches me again, this time slamming my cheek into the floor, my head rebounding off of the wooden boards.
I shove my sisters away from me as carefully as I can as my father beats me, punching me in the face and kicking me in the chest and stomach.
Distantly, Caro and Milla scream again.
I cough and blood spills from the corners of my mouth, dripping onto my chin.
As the hits become harder, I curl up in a ball and clutch at my knees, trying to block out the pain.
Don't hurt Caro and Milla, don't hurt Caro and Milla…
When he gives me a final hard kick to the chest, he walks off, leaving me and my sisters in the hallway, bleeding and bruised.
He doesn't return.
My body shakes as I try to sit up, but I fall back down again as my arms give way.
I take a breath and get up again, trying to ignore the trembling in my body. I can only manage getting to my knees, so I crawl over to Camilla first, checking her pulse.
Alive.
I do the same to Caroline and collapse to the ground when I feel a steady thump-thump under my fingertips.
They were both alive but unconscious.
I lay back onto the ground and close my eyes, trying to breathe in and out.
Every breath is agonizing; one of my ribs most likely broken.
So tired…
No.
I try to get up again, my legs flailing, and I finally get to my knees again. This time, I attempt to stand up, planting my feet as firmly as I can on the ground.
I lean on to the wall for support, and eventually get my legs to stay straight.
A wave of dizziness overcomes me as I try to stay upright.
I walk over to Milla first, hooking my arms under hers and trying to drag her to the laundry, where I can wash the blood off of her.
I pant with exertion as I pull on her arms.
It feels as if she weighs a million tonnes, but I know I can pull her; I've done it before in a situation similar to this one.
Because I'm half-unconscious and have a beaten-up body, however, it makes it extremely difficult.
When I eventually drag her into the laundry, I sit her up against a wall and then stumble back out to get Caro.
Pulling Caro in is slightly easier now that I know what to expect.
When they are both in the laundry, I shut and lock the door, ensuring no one can come in.
I grab out a sponge, towel, bucket and a bottle of vodka from the hidden stash my father keeps under the laundry cupboard.
I fill the bucket with water then dip the sponge in.
Carefully, I wash and sponge all of the blood off of my sisters, paying no attention when I clean their chests and lower abdomens; I had done it so many times, I barely noticed.
Once all the blood is removed, even from their hair, I splash some vodka on to the towel and rub it gently over each open cut on their bodies.
Rummaging through the cupboard once more, I find the first-aid kit I bought and hid, taking out some bandages and some tape.
Using these, I wrap bandages and tape them off, tugging them tightly.
I chuck their dirty clothes into the bin and quickly sneak out of the laundry and up the stairs, not encountering my father at any time.
I almost collapse against the banister of the staircase, but force myself to trudge up the stairs, regardless of the nausea that floods me.
I grab them and myself a fresh change of clothes and race back down to the laundry, helping them dress.
Once I clean up myself, I change as well.
Sweat drips down my forehead once I finish.
I feel like I'm going to pass out, but I can't, no matter how sweet unconsciousness seems.
I shake my sisters for a while and when they eventually wake up, I help them up the stairs and to their room, attending Caro special care to get to the top bunk.
I tuck their sheets in and make sure they are comfortable, stacking up pillows behind their heads and backs.
Milla turns to me as I place a pillow behind her.
"River?"
I ignore her.
"River." She repeats.
I gulp and turn weakly towards her, feeling my eyelids droop.
She widens her eyes, wincing when her black eye kicks in.
"River, you need to see a doctor."
I shake my head.
"No. I'm fine. You need your rest. I'll get you guys some Advil–"
"No." Milla says, cutting me off. "You will get your ass in bed and rest; you're hurt much more than we are." She continues, her voice rasping.
I sigh and instantly regret it; my chest sets on fire.
"I'm getting that Advil" Is all I say as I finish with her pillows.
I glance up at Caro and see her doing nothing but glaring at the ceiling, her arms folded across her stomach.
"You okay, Caro?" I whisper hoarsely to her.
She just nods.
I limp back down the stairs and clutch at the banister, almost crumpling when I reach the bottom floor.
I power on and yank on cupboard doors in the kitchen, shuffling my hand around inside.
I grab a packet and pull it out, seeing that it's Advil.
I consider taking only a couple of capsules up with me, then decide to bring the entire thing.
I hobble back up the stairs and into the bedroom, slamming the door shut and sliding two chairs under the knob for good measure.
I lock the windows and pull the curtains.
No one is fucking getting in.
Scavenging around, I find a water bottle and give Milla and Caro two capsules each, telling them to swallow with water.
I take two as well, and then slide myself into my bed, resting my head on the pillow.
Peace.
Everything on my body hurts, and I probably do need medical attention, but I don't do anything as the medicine kicks in and I pass out.