Chapter 7

When I arrived back home, my dad was still gone. I honestly didn't mind, but I was beginning to wonder where he was. 'Oh well,' I thought, 'I'm going to bed.' I first traveled over to the kitchen to take my trusty vicodin. It was always there when I got beaten up and for that I was thankful. I swallowed them down sharply then carried myself up the stairs and collapsed on my bed. I lay there, running over the day's events, and felt rather satisfied, to be honest. Although, I wasn't looking forward to running into Adam again, but hey, you gotta take it day by day. Yeah right, I'll keep telling myself that. I soon drifted to sleep, in one of the best moods I'd been in for years.

The next few weeks went by quite smoothly. My dad ended up coming home the next day. He pretty much stayed out of my way and probably hasn't said a word to me since. I like it that way though. It gives me less to worry about. On a second note, Sonny and I spent a lot of time together. I'd go over to his house after school and we'd work on our homework together, watch movies, and play guitar, whatever we felt like doing. We got to know each other pretty well, too. He'd talk about his old band that he had to leave when he moved here. I found it all fascinating. Every day I got closer to telling him what I so badly wanted to tell him, but couldn't. About my dad. About my mom. About everything. I just couldn't find the words to say though, so I always avoided it. He would even bring it up sometimes, but I still told him it was unimportant. My bruises had pretty much healed by now, so there wasn't really any proof. Until it happened again, of course.

I was lying on my back on Sonny's bed, and he was on top of me. We were just sitting there, talking, enjoying each other's company like usual. During the past few weeks I had grown increasingly comfortable being around Sonny. We'd become best friends. We looked out for each other now. I'm not quite sure where our relationship would go though, because I was too timid to say anything about it. I figured, I'd wait for him to say something, or do something. We'd see when the time came.

"Aiden?" Sonny questioned, looking at me with concerned eyes.

"Yeah?" I replied. I had a feeling what this was going to be about again. When he gave me the concerned look, I always knew.

"I just. . . I just feel like you'll never tell me what I've wanted to know for weeks now. You know I'm just concerned. You know I love you. That's why I want to know. But I just feel like you'll keep avoiding the answer forever. And I can't help you if I don't know what's been wrong." God damn it. I wanted to tell him so badly. I was ready to this time, but for some reason, I couldn't transform the thoughts into words. So all I did was stare at him. Stare at him with regret, and passion, and longing. He understood, too. He lowered his eyes and nodded, then kissed my forehead. These were the moments that I was thankful for. Where there was complete understanding in the midst of complete confusion. I loved him for it too. God, did I love him.

About an hour later, I headed home. I had thoughts swimming around my head about when I was finally going to tell Sonny. I knew I'd have to do it sooner or later, and it fucking frightened me beyond reasoning. I've never told anybody about it. The only person that knows is my dad, because he's the one that does it to me. But for now, I agreed to let it be. I'll know what to do when the time came.

I walked through my front door, kicked off my chucks and walked into the kitchen to see my dad fuming with anger. For what reason, I have no idea. But he'd thrown things across the kitchen to lay scattered across the floor. He was in a mood, and a bad one at that. I thought about running for it, but then thought about how that would make him even angrier. I knew what was about to happen. I didn't want it to, but I never have a choice.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?" he screamed at me. I looked down at the floor, not willing to meet his eyes. I started fiddling my fingers. I was just waiting for it. He lunged at me and punched me hard in the stomach, hard enough for me to lose my breath. I fell to the floor coughing, not able to breathe. I just wanted to get this over with so he'd leave. He began kicking my legs, screaming as he did it.

Finally he stopped and said, "Get up, boy. Why the fuck are you so weak?" I resisted the urge to be a smartass and say something back. I didn't want to make him even angrier than he already was. And when I didn't get up, he just started kicking me again. He kicked my ribs. Oh boy they would be bruised in the morning. With that, he let out a final scream and stormed out the door. I heard him start his car and drive away. Thank God he was gone.

I lied there for maybe a half hour, just sobbing. I couldn't take this that much longer. But, I didn't know what to do. Again, it hurt to move but just like always, I managed to get myself up. I got my vicodin and took a few too many than what I should have. Hey, I just wanted to be knocked out for a good long time, okay? I walked up the stairs to my bedroom, locked the door, slipped off my pants and shirt, and carefully laid my aching body down on the bed and passed out.

The next day I awakened to see Sonny sitting at the foot of my bed looking rather disturbed. I rubbed my eyes wondering how long I'd been out. Sonny turned his head to look at me and his shoulders relaxed. He looked so relieved.

"You're finally awake. You're lucky I trusted you and didn't call the hospital. You're lucky my judgment was fair and you're not dead. I know something's going on, Aiden. It's obvious to see. You OD'd and you're bruised. Now I'd really appreciate it if you would tell me what's wrong," he protested.

I looked at him and frowned. There was no way around it this time. He'd searched me while I was knocked out. I had to tell him now. I just didn't know how. "Well, I think it's pretty obvious what happened," I said. Great, you're real good at telling the truth, you dumbass.

"I have a pretty good assumption, but you're the one who needs to tell me who it is."

I opened my mouth to say something, but all I could do was stare. Then I started crying. It hurt, but what was I supposed to do? That instant, Sonny's face hardened and he came up to sit on the floor so he would be eye level with me.

"Please tell me, Aiden," he pleaded. Alright, he had me. I couldn't say no.

"It. .. he. ..uh. . It was. . . my. .my dad." There, I finally said it. Things could only get better now.

"That's what I was afraid of," he said as his eyes lowered to stare at the stitching in my comforter, "But don't worry. You're coming home with me. I'm not going to let him touch you again. . . I do love you, you know." He smiled warmly. That smile could make me melt every time.

"I love you too, Sonny." God how I could let things slip something, eh? Oh well. I needed the comfort right now and he knew that. I got up, but made small protesting noises because it hurt.

"There's some vicodin in the cupboard downstairs. I need some," I told him. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't protest. He knew I needed it. He helped me get dressed then he got me down the stairs, got me the meds, and watched me take them. After all that, he gently kissed me and escorted me out to his car. I got into the passenger seat and he walked over and got in on the driver's side. He looked over at me, meeting my eyes and he shook his head, and then smiled.

So I guess I was spending the weekend with Mr. Moore. What could be in store for me now?