SIXTEEN YEARS OLD
IT’S BEEN six months since the school dance and six months since I started dating Rafferty.
I never did make it back into the gym or back to Chance that night. Rafferty and I, soaked and freezing from dancing in the rain, ran to his car and left without letting anyone know.
That following Monday morning was awkward when I had to face the nice boy I had abandoned. He asked me a million questions while I tried to apologize to him for bailing. I hadn’t gotten a chance to admit the reasoning for my quick departure when Rafferty walked up behind me. All of Chance’s questions were answered when Rafferty wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my neck. As realization hit, Chance’s face fell. In the end, he wasn’t super happy about it, but he had been gracious and that’s all I could have asked for in a situation like that. Two weeks later, I saw him making out with Hannah in the stairwell, so I think it’s safe to say that everything worked out okay for everyone involved.
People stared and whispered when news spread that Rafferty and I were together, but neither one of us could be bothered to give a shit what they thought about us. We were happy.
We are happy.
Something that we both needed fell perfectly into place that night and we’ve been side by side ever since. We didn’t come right out and announce we were dating to our parents, but when Mollie found out after about a month, she seemed genuinely happy. Paxton seemed okay with it too, saying he’d always suspected we both had feelings for each other, but like with everything else lately, he was fairly quiet on the matter. Adrian… well, Adrian wasn’t and still isn’t thrilled. He hasn’t said anything, but I can tell by the way he looks at me when he’s home that given the chance, he’d choose someone else for his son.
My dad told me I was old enough to decide who I wanted to date and that he didn’t really have any say in who I picked. He also made some comment about how he wasn’t surprised since I spend more time with the Blackwell boys than anyone else. He shrugged and added, “I just always thought it would be Paxton” before changing the topic to something completely unrelated. I’ve always appreciated how my dad trusted me to make my own decisions and supported me in any way he could. This was no different.
With a robe over my sleep tank and shorts, I step out of the guest bathroom that had become mine a very long time ago and into my bedroom. Using a towel to wring the excess water out of my hair, I’m surprised I don’t find Rafferty lying across my bed waiting for me like he said he would be when I got out of the shower. He doesn’t spend the night with me every night, but it’s becoming more frequent.
I never sleep alone when I’m here because the nights he’s not in bed with me, Paxton is. His nightmares are getting worse, and he says sleeping next to me helps keep them at bay. I’ve asked him if he should talk to his mom about maybe going to see someone for help, but he shoots down the idea every time. Since he won’t talk to me about what’s going on, letting him sleep with me feels like the only way I can help him right now. I’ll keep doing it until he decides otherwise.
Dropping my towel on the floor, I head out the bedroom door to look for Raff. His room is in the other wing on the opposite side of the house, but he’s nowhere to be found when I get there. Every light is off, and it doesn’t look like he’s been in there all day. Deciding to check downstairs, thinking he might be getting a late-night snack or watching TV, I tiptoe down the grand staircase.
The lights were turned off when Mollie went upstairs to go to bed, but now there’s soft light streaming out of the kitchen. I hope to find Rafferty at the end of the illuminated path, but the only thing I find in the kitchen is a full bowl of microwave popcorn that’s long gone cold. My theory about him getting a snack was right, the only difference is he’s not here eating it.
Leaving the kitchen, I wander the large house for signs of him. I even look out the big windows and down at the backyard to see if he decided to take a dip in the heated pool, but there are no signs of him out there either. My next guess is he may be working out in the home gym. The stairs leading to the finished basement are on the other side of the house, so I move quietly in that direction. I don’t want to accidentally wake up Adrian. He got home late tonight and immediately went upstairs to his bedroom. I haven’t seen him since and I’m assuming he’s been sleeping.
My theory is proved wrong when I reach the top of the stairs but see the light on in Adrian’s office down the arched hallway. Rafferty is never in there so I’m not even remotely considering that to be the location of his hiding spot until I hear his voice.
I know I shouldn’t, but I find myself stepping in that direction before I can stop myself. Something in my gut tells me I need to see what’s happening in there so late at night. Pulling my gray fluffy robe tighter around my body, I move as quietly as I possibly can toward the cracked wooden door.
When I discover what’s happening behind it, my blood turns to ice.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve asked my dad what it felt like to see horrific crime scenes and the cruel things humans do to each other. He’s always said it’s hard to describe unless you’ve witnessed it yourself. Standing here watching as Adrian brings his brown leather belt down on Rafferty’s back, I finally understand what my father meant.
It’s hard to describe the emotions because it’s impossible to pinpoint exactly what you’re experiencing. You feel everything at once but you’re also numb. Your skin grows warm but you’re freezing. Things are moving fast but painfully slow at the same time. You want to help but your fear and shock are keeping you firmly in place.
How can this be happening? How long has this been going on? Why isn’t Rafferty fighting back? The questions circulate around in my head like a broken record but come to an abrupt stop when the sound of the belt on Rafferty’s skin hits my ears again.
He’s kneeling in front of his father’s big wooden desk with his discarded shirt in front of him. His head is bowed, and his hands are braced on the rug on either side of his legs. When the leather whips him, he remains perfectly still and silent. The only evidence that it hurts him at all is the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips pull in the slightest grimace. I have no idea how he’s sitting there taking it, but like with everything else, he faces it with unwavering stoicism.
I know Rafferty and that’s why I know, while he might not be showing external pain, his mind is in anguish. His body will heal from this brutality, but can his head ever properly recover from experiencing something like this?
For longer than I should, I stand there doing nothing, unsure how I could possibly help him right now. Can I tell my dad, and can he then do something to put an end to this? He’ll need more than just my testimony to go against a man like Adrian Blackwell. Adrian’s six-figure attorneys will have the case dismissed before it even reaches a jury. No, my dad will need tangible evidence.
Holding my breath, my hand slips into the pocket of my thigh-length robe and my fingers wrap around my cell phone. If I get caught doing this, it will not go well for Rafferty or me, and that’s why my heart thunders almost painfully against my chest wall as I begin recording.
“One day, you’ll learn to fucking respect me and we won’t have to do this,” Adrian snarls, his fingers running over the smooth leather he’s using to hurt his child. “One day, you’ll do as you are told and not fucking embarrass me.”
“I missed two classes. That’s it,” Rafferty grits out between his teeth.
Oh crap, he skipped his first two classes today because he already understands the units. A teacher must have grown tired of his absences and called his father. Usually, they don’t even attempt to punish Rafferty, but I’m thinking Mr. Cornwell has finally had enough of Rafferty’s shit. Last week, Raff pissed off the calculus teacher when he asked in front of the whole class how he’d managed to hold on to his job for so long seeing as he barely seemed to understand the material herself. He found it wildly entertaining at the time to embarrass him in front of everyone, but it looks like it might be biting him in the ass now.
My hand is shaking holding my phone and my lungs are burning because I’m too afraid if I breathe they’ll hear me. When Adrian brings the belt down on Rafferty’s back again, I flinch at the horrific cracking sound it makes. The way Adrian appears so comfortable doing such a horrible thing tells me that this isn’t the first or the last time he plans on doing this to his son. And Rafferty, the way he sits, just accepting his tarnished reality, also confirms this isn’t new for him.
How have I never seen welts or marks on his back? I think back to all the times I’ve been around him shirtless, but for the life of me, I can’t remember ever seeing any evidence on his skin. When he’s lain naked with me in bed, my fingers trailing over his pale skin, I’ve never felt welts. Somehow, he’s managed to find a way to hide this from me. Does he keep his shirt on and me at arm’s length after it happens to ensure I don’t find out?
I just don’t understand how I could have missed that this was happening. It makes so much sense now why Rafferty is always so tense when his father is home. He knew what was coming.
Adrian lifts the cigarette that’s been burning in the ashtray on his desk and brings it to his lips. He draws a lungful of the nicotine and his eyes close in satisfaction. I can’t help but wonder if he gets more pleasure out of the cigarette or leaving red marks on his son’s back. My gut tells me it’s the latter.
“What you do reflects on me,” Adrian explains, blowing out a plume of smoke. “When you look like a lazy degenerate, people assume that’s what I’ve raised you to be, and that is simply not the case. We both know what kind of man I’m raising you to be.”
Rafferty lifts his head, and he stares at the wall next to the door I’m behind. His eyes look as dull and lifeless as Mollie’s can be.
“You’re raising me to be just like you.”
Adrian pauses at this, a murderous glare forming on his face. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Raff stiffly shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not convinced it’s not.”
Dropping the belt on the rug at his feet, Adrian marches forward. My stomach rolls as he flips the lit cigarette in his hand, and he presses it to his son’s back. This finally has Rafferty making a noise. He groans, his perfect teeth digging into his lip, stopping it from being too loud, and tries to pull forward to escape the pain, but Adrian holds him in place.
“You’re such a little shit,” Adrian seethes. “I’m going to burn those smart-ass remarks right out of you.”
Finally letting go of him, Adrian steps back and Rafferty sags forward. His entire body moves as he takes big deep breaths through his nose. Behind him, his dad is weaving his belt through the loops in his pants, preparing to leave.
Adrenaline shoots through me. I have to be out of sight when he leaves his office. With my tear-filled eyes, I look at Rafferty one more time. I stop recording and stash the phone back in my robe.
As gracefully and quiet as I can, I tiptoe back away from the door and down the hallway. When I’m far enough away, I pick up my pace and race toward my bedroom. With each step I take, my heart breaks a little bit more for the boy I’ve fallen in love with.
TEN MINUTES LATER, I’m sitting in the middle of my bed with my knees pulled to my chest when Rafferty slips into my room.
If I wasn’t looking for signs of what had just occurred, I probably wouldn’t notice that his skin is slightly paler than usual and his movements are a little rigid. He either has an amazing pain tolerance or needs to take up a career in acting because had that happened to me, I would still be lying on the ground unable to move. The strength that this boy has is awe-inspiring to me, and so, so fucking sad.
No one should have to be that strong.
I almost choke on a sob when he looks at me and asks, “Are you okay?”
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling when I blink. “You’re asking me that?”
Moving to the bed, he rests his knees on the mattress and leans over so he can wipe the tears off my face. “You’re the one who’s sitting alone in their room crying, so yes, I want to know if you’re okay.” Frowning at my current state, he gently cups my cheek in his hand. “What’s got you so upset, baby?”
I turn my head and kiss his palm, my hand holding on to his wrist for dear life. Once I tell him what I saw, we can never go back to how things were, but that’s a risk I have to take. I have to know how I can help him because I can’t sit back and allow his father to hurt him like that for a second longer.
“I saw, Raff,” I whisper, looking up at him.
“What did you see?”
“I went looking for you when you didn’t show up here like you said you would,” I start, the anxiety is like a boulder sitting on my chest. “I saw the light on in your dad’s office and I heard voices, so I checked to see if you were in there…”
When Rafferty rips his hand away from me like I’d been the one to burn him, it’s like a hot blade to my heart. He stumbles back a step from my bed, his face now ghastly pale and his eyes have this wild look in them.
“Raff…” I try, shifting so I’m sitting on my knees. “You have to tell someone what he did. He can’t do that to you anymore.”
His head shakes. “He didn’t do anything to me, Posie. I don’t know what you saw.”
There’s a twinge of anger flaring in my chest that he’d try to gaslight me into thinking I mistook what was happening in that office. “I know exactly what I saw.” I stand my ground. “He used his belt on you and then he”—I choke on my words as emotion builds in my throat again. “He put his cigarette out on your skin.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Lift up your shirt then and prove me wrong, Raff. Prove to me that you don’t need help.”
He stares at me for what must be longer than a minute before I watch his strong facade crumple. Like a perfectly constructed wall, it falls apart brick by brick until it’s nothing but dust. His fingers shove through his hair as he falls back another step.
Walking on my knees closer to the edge of the bed and him, I say, “We have to go to my dad. He can help you and keep you safe.” If I could, I’d be dragging us both to my dad’s police station right now. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to get him to safety.
Panic takes over his distraught expression. His hands drop to his sides, and he rushes toward me. “No!” he hisses, trying to keep his voice down so his parents don’t hear us. “No cops. No one can know.”
I disagree instantly, my head shaking. “No, we have to tell someone. He can’t get away with this, Rafferty.”
“We can’t,” he argues sharply, making me jerk back from him out of instinct. Catching his mistake, he drops to the floor in front of me and gathers my hands in his. He kisses my fingers before continuing, this time in a much softer voice. “We can’t let anyone know. My mom…” he pauses, swallowing hard. “My mom won’t survive it. Our names will be plastered on every news outlet, and everyone will know she was married to a man who did … this. The scrutinization and the gossip will destroy her. She’s been so sick for so long. She used to be on better medication that helped her, but she’s self-medicating now. I’m afraid of what she’ll do if I tear apart her life like that.”
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t seen Mollie taking pills. I’ve never known what they are, but I knew she was taking too many of them throughout the day. There are nights she takes so many, that she’s not even awake before we get home from school. The vacant, glassy look in her sad eyes is caused by the pills.
“We can get her the help she needs,” I argue, desperate to find a solution. “She can go to rehab.”
“She’s not mentally strong enough to do that and she’d never risk her reputation by checking into rehab. She’d rather slowly fall apart in her picture-perfect home and in her designer clothes than let the world know she needs help. My dad’s used the last twenty years to brainwash her into thinking their image is the priority.” He looks away, like he can’t stand to look at me as he adds, “My dad may not leave marks on her skin, but make no mistake, Posie, he’s abused her in other ways. He saw her as an easy target when they started dating, and over the years, he’s torn her down until she’s a shell of a human.”
“There has to be something we can do. You can’t endure his pain and wrath forever.”
He looks back at me. “I can,” he insists vehemently, leaving no room for argument. “I can because as long as he’s taking his anger out on me, he stays away from Pax, and as long as I keep it a secret, my mom is okay. For them, I can bear anything. They are my priority.”
“While you’re protecting them, who is protecting you? How can I sit back and know this is happening and not tell my dad? He would help you. All of you—”
I’m cut off when Rafferty’s hand wraps painfully around my chin. His fingers dig into my skin, and I worry he’s leaving marks. “If you go to your father, I will deny everything you tell him. Without evidence, it’s your word against mine, and you won’t win that fight, Posie.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to admit I have video evidence, but he speaks again before I get the chance to tell him.
“And if for some reason this gets out to the press and it affects my mom in any way, I will never forgive you.” He releases my face and drops his forehead against mine. “It will ruin us. You will lose me if you betray me, and I’m not ready to lose you. So, I beg you, Butterfly, please don’t say anything.”
My eyes flutter closed. There are so many conflicting feelings coursing through me. The pain that his father causes will pale in comparison to the pain of something happening to his mom or little brother. It’s a fact set in stone, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone but know all I want to do is protect you. I don’t like seeing someone I love in pain.” Everything comes to a screeching standstill as I realize what I just said.
Rafferty’s thumb, which had been creating small circles on the back of my hand, freezes, and he lifts his head so he can look at me. I don’t immediately do the same, instead choosing to stare at the gray and blue comforter a moment longer so I can conceal my embarrassment. Nothing I said wasn’t true, I just hadn’t planned on letting it slip like that.
Tipping my chin up with his finger, he forces me to make eye contact. I’m afraid of what I’ll see on his face until I spot the corners of his mouth pulling up in a small smile.
“What did you just say?”
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “Come on, Raff, you heard me. Please don’t try to embarrass me by making me repeat it,” I groan, wishing I could bury my face in my pillow.
“I don’t want to embarrass you,” he insists, not a hint of humor or mockery in his voice. In fact, he looks very serious. “I just want to hear those words come from your lips one more time.”
Breath catching, I stare at the boy I am somehow lucky enough to call mine. “I love you, Raff.” My voice may only be a whisper, but I feel what I say with so much intensity it’s an all-consuming sensation. My heart beats for Rafferty Blackwell.
His face retains that serious look, and for a second, I start to worry I’ve ruined everything by opening my big dumb mouth, but when he leans forward and captures my lips with his, my fear evaporates.
I will never get tired of the way my heart skips a beat when he kisses me. It’s like no matter how much time passes or how many times we’ve kissed, I still get that delicious mixture of nervousness and excitement in my belly like I did the first time he kissed me. I hope it’s a feeling that never fades.
My lips part for him and he groans as my tongue licks against his teasingly. His hands release mine and travel down my arms in a ghostlike touch before reaching my hips. Never breaking our kiss, he slowly stands to his feet and his hold on me tightens. As he deepens the kiss, he lifts me off the bed with surprising ease. My legs circle his waist and my arms loop around his neck in a desperate attempt to somehow bring myself closer to him. The only thing separating us is our clothes, but he still feels too far away.
With one hand, I reach between our bodies and untie the robe. I manage to shimmy it off my shoulders. It falls to our feet, and Rafferty steps over it as he lays me down on the bed. He’s trying hard to not crush me, but I love his weight on me. While some might find it claustrophobic being trapped like that, I feel safe. Protected.
Abandoning my mouth, he kisses along my jaw and then down my throat. My back arches into him when his lips softly suck at the sensitive skin there.
“Say it again,” he pleads against my neck, his warm breath causing goose bumps to dance down my spine.
I smile at this and my hands thread softly through the wavy strands of his hair. “I love you,” I tell him in his ear.
Pulling back, he looks down at me with a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. It’s so soft. Warm. I could drown in that look and die happily. “I’ve been in love with you longer than I’ve probably known.” He pushes the still-damp strands of hair off my face, tucking them behind my ear. “I think I always knew you were going to be mine, but I just didn’t understand what I was feeling when I looked at you. I do now.”
I can’t think of another time I’ve ever been happier. Lifting my head, I seal my lips to his once more and gently wrap my arms over his shoulders, careful to not touch the skin on his back.
Between my legs and through the thin cotton of my pajama shorts, I can feel him growing hard. When I first got together with Rafferty, I thought he would be in a race to take my virginity, but to my surprise, he’s been patient with me. He’s been taking his time and making sure I’m comfortable with him.
We’ve fooled around before, and the first time he put his mouth on me, I thought he was pulling my very soul from my body. I was nervous about doing the same for him, but he talked me through it and was happy to teach me how he liked it. After discovering the sounds I could force out of him, falling to my knees became one of my favorite things to do.
We’ve done everything but actually have sex. I know he’s been waiting for me to tell him that I’m ready, and I’ve never felt surer about anything than I do right now.
“Raff,” I whisper against his mouth, my pelvis starting to grind against him. “I’m ready.”
His body freezes. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.” I nip his bottom lip with my teeth before licking away the bite of pain with my tongue. “I want you.”
He groans. “Fuck, Posie, those are my second favorite three words you’ve told me tonight.”
“I meant everything I said.”
Rafferty bows his head and kisses me deeply, and with each stroke of his tongue, I forget about the video sitting on my phone. Instead, I fall into oblivion as he finally claims the last piece of me as his.
