Eleven

It's almost the end of the week, and I feel like I'm going to explode; physically and mentally. Avery hasn't called or texted, and she hasn't shown up once for school. We're now Friday, and I can't count on my hands how many times I have called and messaged her.

I would have gone over to her house, of Scott and Tammy didn't already see that coming, and either try to talk me out of it or physically hold me back, every time my nerves got too much and I tried to race over there.

"You told her to call if she is in trouble, you can't go running over to her house demanding answers. If anything is going on, that might back it worst," she would keep saying to me, in different contexts, thinking somehow that it would calm me down.

It didn't which usually resulted in her and Scott wrestling me to the ground.

"What if one of you guys went over and checked on her?" I ask them while we sit down for lunch. I have barely eaten anything, not having an appetite with my nerves eating away at my stomach consistently, and the worry coursing through me causing it to flip at any thought of food.

"Why is that any better? We're strangers?" Scotts asks.

"Exactly, one of you guys can go and say you're a classmate from school, and you have notes for Avery from what she missed. Tammy, maybe it's better if you go?" I say and turn to her.

She gives me an incredulous look. "Why me?"

"Because, you're a girl. It might seem less suspicious, and you may have a better chance of her dad actually listening and believing you, since you aren't some random guy showing up. If Scott were to appear on the doorstep, I feel like he would be kicked off the moment he asks for Avery," I joke lightly, tossing him a teasing look.

Tammy rolls her eyes. "Aiden, you are worrying yourself to death; literally. You haven't eaten anything in days, and your skin is grossly pale. Have you not been sleeping, either?" she asks, concern shining through her eyes.

I rub a hand down my face, suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit me, like the mention of sleep caused my body to react and want to go into sleep mode.

"I can't stop thinking about what could be happening right now, and I can't help but think that he is beating her right now, ever since you guys showed me that article."

Tammy lets out a deep sigh. "I really regret showing you that, if I knew this is what it would do to you. For all you know, she got sick and is taking a few days off work."

She stops and chews her lip, looking like she just came up with a brilliant idea, though those come rare to her.

"What if we stopped by the office before class, and asked the secretary if she knows anything about Avery's absence. I can make up a lie about being her partner in class and not being able to get a hold of her for the assignment," she says and smiles at me, grasping my hand and squeezing it.

It doesn't sound like a half bad idea. If Avery really is sick, then her parents, even her mother at least, would have called the school and informed them. With a lie as innocent sounding as something educational and to do with academics, I can't see them with holding simple information like that.

I give her a nod and try to smile, but the muscles in my face are too tired to work, or maybe I'm too depressed to even muster a fake smile at this point.

I just want to see Avery. Just hear her voice.

Hear that she is okay. That I'm going to see her again.

I need to see her again.

We finish up lunch quickly and Tammy and I head to the office. I can't help but smile a little when I step inside, remembering the last time I was in here.

Tammy walks up to the desk and slaps on a cheery fake smile, one she has used many times to win over teachers and other faculty members, to get out of detentions or running track, stuff like that.

"Sorry to bother you, I just have a question about a student, Avery Reynolds? You see, we've been assigned as partners for a pretty big project, and she's been absent for the past few days. I haven't been able to get a hold of her to discuss our assignment ideas. I just need to know if there's a chance her parents called about her being sick or something?"

The secretary lifts an eyebrow, but turns towards a little stack of papers next to her computer, a sticky note on the top paper marked Absences.

She flips through it, a little too slow for my liking, before stopping on a page and scanning her finger down it.

"No, it doesn't seem anyone has called concerning her absence. We have made several phone calls, but we haven't been able to reach anyone," she says, her tone lacking any emotion. She drops the stack and turns back to Tammy, her expression matching her tone.

"If you hear anything, let me know. I'm very eager to finish this project and get top marks," Tammy says, and barely turns on her heel before she's rolling her eyes.

"Well, that was a waste of time," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

Tammy frowns, making me instantly regret my comment. She tried her best to help me, and here I am complaining.

"I'm sorry, it's not your fault. It was a really good idea, even if it didn't work out."

She looks up and smiles a little at me. "Thanks, I'm sorry it didn't work out."

I try and shrug it off, but the fact that neither of her parents have contacted the school to say why she is absent, and they're ignoring the school's calls, just makes the tight ball of fear in my stomach grow.

I walk back to class with the determination to stop by her place after school, regardless of what Scott and Tammy say. They can fight me all they want.

Something isn't right.

I've already made the promise that no matter what, I will be there for her.

***

When the bell rings, signaling the end of my final class, I bolt out of the room before anyone has the chance to pack up their things and run to my locker. I don't think about the books or assignments I need for the weekend and shove everything in my locker before taking off towards the bus.

I pull my phone out to check the online schedule for the next arrival. Before I can open the app, my phone lights up, and Avery's name flashes across the screen as she calls me.

My fingers tremble with adrenaline at seeing her name as I rush to press the screen.

"Avery, are you okay? Where are you?" I realize just how worried I am by the vicious quiver in my voice.

I hear a slight sniffle on the other line.

"Aiden?" Her sweet, broken voice drifts through.

The damaged sound of her voice strikes at me heart, but hearing it in general allows a breath of relief to enter my lungs.

"It's me, I'm here, Avery."

Another sniffle.

"I'm sorry to ask this, but can I come over?"

I don't need to think of the answer. "Yes, of course. I'll be right there."

More silence, but I can feel her hesitation and the tension probably rolling off her right now.

"I'm actually already at your house, I'm sitting outside."

I'm already running towards the bus, scrambling to get my bus pass out of my pocket with my free hand.

"Is there a car in the driveway?"

"No, it's empty."

Thank god, he isn't home yet.

"Stay where you are, hide in the back yard if you want, the gate should be unlocked. I'll be right there."

"Okay, thank you, Aiden."

"Please don't thank me, I'm just so glad to hear your voice."

The bus rounds the corner and thankfully, quickly pulls up to the curb in front of me.

"I'm getting on the bus now, do you want me to stay on the phone until I get there?" I don't feel right getting off the phone with her, leaving her in anyway until I'm there in person.

She hasn't said anything, but I can tell clearly by the way she answered the phone, that something is very wrong.

I've been right this entire time.

I should have trusted my gut.

"It's okay, my phone is dying. I was also hoping to use your phone charger, I think I lost mine," she says.

"Okay, I'll see you soon." I reluctantly hang up the phone and slump back into my seat, my eyes drifting out the window. After letting everything sink in for a few seconds, I turn my phone back on and call my dad, to let him know I'll have Avery over after school.

"Hey son, so glad you called!" he yelled through the phone, though it isn't loud in the background, it's actually silent. "I was just about to call; I have the best news."

"What's going on?" I ask, trying not to sound too weirded out. My dad isn't one to ever get overly-excited. He has been excited about things, like when he tells his work stories or his favorite team scores a goal or wins a game.

He's never sounded like Tom Brady has been elected President.

"One of the guys at the shop won tickets to the Yankees and Tigers game this weekend. It's a whole trip that was offered by the local news station, the whole weekend covered."

"That's great, dad, but it doesn't explain why you sound so excited."

He chuckles. "That's the best part, his wife is pregnant, they think she is going to give birth any day now. He doesn't want to be too far away in case she does, and she isn't able to travel, so he gave the tickets to Sean and I."

Well that really explains the excessive excitement. My dad loves sports, any kind, even golf.

No one likes golf.

No one except my dad, apparently.

"Wow, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity," I say, emphasizing my enthusiasm towards him leaving for the whole weekend.

There's a chance I can get there before he does, hide Avery for the evening or at worst, the night, until he leaves.

Then, given the possible circumstances when I get there, we can spend the whole weekend together at my place.

Where I know for sure she is going to be safe.

"I know, right? I can't believe my luck. So, you don't mind being alone for the weekend?"

"Not at all, dad. I'm a grown man, I can take care of myself for a couple days. I'll probably just busy myself with TV, and when I get bored of that, I'll do homework." I try and joke, convincing him I won't be up to anything while he's gone.

"I don't like that order, but thanks, son. I'll be leaving tonight shortly after work, I'll just be stopping by home to pack a bag before we head off for our plane. I can leave some money for you to get food this weekend, I'll see you when I get home."

I end the call, and instantly want to will the bus to go faster.

When it finally gets to my area, I run home and only let out my breath when I reach Avery sitting on my steps. My rapid beating heart stops at the sight of her tear stained face.

I slowly walk up to her and sit down, cupping her face gently in my hands. I wipe my hands over her tear streaks, expecting them to by dry, but they still feel fresh.

"Are you okay?" I ask, feeling stupid the second the words leave my lips.

Of course, she isn't okay.

"I know you'd prefer if I say yes, but I don't want to lie to you," she whispers, her voice sounding weak.

I just nod and reach for her hand. "Come inside, you don't have to say anything right now."

I lead her towards my room, letting go of her hand only to move to my bed, clearing it off and making it a little more comfortable for her to sit on. She shuffles across the room and takes a seat on the edge, her movements almost robotic.

"Can I get you anything? Something to drink, or eat?" I ask, suddenly feeling awkward and slightly useless.

I want to make her feel better. I want to see her smile.

But I know there probably isn't much I can do right now to make her situation any brighter. I walk over to the wall and switch on the light, to get a better look at her.

She is wearing her usual over-sized sweater and baggy jeans, but I can see the fresh bruise on her right cheek, almost forming a perfect handprint. I can imagine she has a few other bruises hiding underneath her clothes, I have always suspected since I discovered her injuries, that it was the reason for the excessive clothing.

"Please, don't say anything," she whimpers, turning her face away from me. My heart crumbles at how frightened and ashamed she sounds.

She should have nothing to be ashamed off, other than having that bastard as a father. I know he did this to her, probably just for skipping one class. We didn't even have the chance to skip the whole day before he got a hold of her, doing god knows what this past week.

"Please, Avery, tell me what happened? My dad is going to be here in at least an hour to pack a bag and leave for the weekend. I'm not letting you leave this room until you at least tell me who did this to you."

Her eyes widen at the mention of my dad. I put a comforting hand on hers.

"He will only be here for a few minutes, you can stay in my room until he leaves, he won't even know you're here"

She nods, wiping a few stray tears with her now soaked sweater sleeve.

All her clothes were practically soaked, which doesn't make sense, because it didn't rain once the entire day today. Yet her sweater is still heavily damp, and her jeans are just starting to turn a lighter color from the semi-dry spots.

"Why are your clothes wet?" I ask. I look up to her hood and pull it down, revealing her soaking wet hair, as well. "What the hell happened?"

She closes her eyes and turns her head away from me, her body trembling. I move to my closet and tear through it until I find a clean pair of pajama bottoms, that haven't fit me in years but were a birthday present from my grandmother, and a pull-over sweater.

"Here, you can change into these and I can dry your clothes when my dad leaves," I say and hand her the bundle of clothes. "I'll go downstairs and wait for him; you can change and make yourself comfortable."

Avery nods and grabs the clothes, her eyes never meeting mine.

Without thinking, I reach out and pull her too me, setting the bundle of clothes aside to wrap my arms around her waist and engulf her tiny frame.

My heart cracks a little more when I feel her shaking, squeezing tighter in hopes to make it stop. I want her to know she is safe, that I won't let anything bad happen to her.

I have her, I'm not letting her go now.

***

While I let Avery change in my room, I went downstairs to make something to eat, hoping once she has calmed down, she will want to eat.

While I have microwave dinner heating up, my dad walks in the door and rushes into the living room.

"Hey son, how was your day?" he asks, though I can tell by his tone, his thoughts are distracted.

I keep it short and simple, since nothing too excited happened anyway, that I want him to know. "It was alright, just boring classes and throwing spit balls, in said classes." I give him a typical response whenever he has asked me in the past how my day was, instead of now asking how stable I still am.

"That's great, I'm going to run and pack a bag. Mind making me one of those too? I won't have time to eat anything before leaving, and that plane food is overpriced," he says and rushes off towards the stairs.

I shake my head and pray he doesn't check my room for whatever reason, or that Avery manages to stay quiet so she doesn't give him a reason to check it.

I made sure to close the door and tell her to lock it when I left, and I never usually have my door closed. I've always trusted my dad, even when I came back, and I've never had anything to hide from him, so my door is always open when I'm not in it.

Hell, half the time when I'm just sitting in there jamming out, my door is still open.

If he sees it closed, it might be the only reason for him to be suspicious.

Hopefully, he is too excited to notice or do anything about it if he does.

I rummage through the fridge to find another microwave dinner, my heart pounding in my ears, making it hard to listen for my dad's footsteps upstairs, trying to track where he is and make sure he doesn't wander down the hall towards my room.

When I hear his loud footsteps tumble down the stairs, I let out a deep breath and release the tension building in my chest. He still has a wide grin on his face as he grabs the microwave macaroni and cheese dinner, shoveling it into his mouth.

"Thanks, son. Here is some cash for the weekend, my phone will always be on in case there is an emergency. Call or text me at any time and I can be right back, I have a ticket back that I can exchange on any day of the weekend for family emergencies–"

I hold up my hands, cutting my dad's rants off. "I'll be perfectly fine, dad. I'll keep the place clean and stay out of trouble, I promise." I try and give a convincing smile, and not let the smirk threatening to stretch across my face slip through, knowing who I have waiting in my room.

I just want him to leave so I can get back up there. I'm not afraid of her snooping, there isn't anything she will find that will upset or offend her, my room is pretty plain.

I just want to be with her. I want to be up there comforting her, assuring her she won't ever be hurt again.

Thankfully, a knock on the front door grabs our attention. My dad walks over and opens the door to reveal his shop friend, Sean. My saving grace.

"Ready to go?" he asks, then looks past my dad and spots me, his eyes growing wide. "As I live and breathe. Is that you, Aiden?"

Crap. Maybe he isn't my savior after all.

He walks over and pats me on the shoulder, already going into memories of when I was younger, exaggerating how small I was when he last saw me. It was only two years ago, and though I hit my growth spurt in juvie, it wasn't that much bigger a difference than before.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and tap my foot, signaling how impatient I am and how much I just want this conversation to end.

"Come on, Sean, we better get going before we miss our plane." Thankfully, my dad finally gets the hint and pushes his friend out the door. He waves all the way down the driveway and until he is in the car.

I watch out the window until the instant their car pulls around the corner and disappears, then rush back upstairs to check on Avery. I haven't heard a sound come from upstairs, and though I should be relieved that she didn't give herself away, I can't help but fear that it might also mean she ran off again.

A breath of relief escapes my lungs when I throw open the door and see her sitting on my bed, her legs barely visible in my large sweater, gathering in a bunch in between her crossed legs.

Her head snaps up when I enter, her bright hazel eyes knocking the wind out of me like every other time.

"How are you feeling?" I ask quietly, like if I speak too loudly, I'll scare her.

She manages a weak smile. "A little better, listening to your dad fuss over you was quite entertaining."

I frown and curse my dad. Of course, she heard all that.

"He will be gone until at least Sunday, so you can stay here all weekend if you need to, and maybe when he gets back, I can talk to him about letting you stay a little longer–"

Avery lifts her finger and pressed it to my lips, cutting off my babbling.

"You're already doing too much, Aiden, I'm not asking for any more than just one night."

That causes me to frown, my heart sinking. I want her to stay, for as long as she needs, and until I'm at least satisfied enough with her safety.

One night is not enough.

But I can't push her to stay.

"Does this one night at least include an explanation?" I ask, letting out a breath of defeat.

She sits back down and pats the spot next to her on the bed. I walk over and sit down as close to her as possible, our thighs brushing together and my hand close enough to grasp hers.

I want to be her shoulder to cry on if she needs one. With the way she is taking quiet, deep breaths, tells me there is a large chance she will.

"To be honest, I don't really know where to begin explaining, so I guess the closest to the beginning is before I moved here," she starts, taking another calming breath.

"My parents and I used to live in Cleveland; it's where I was born. For the first few years of my life, that I can recall, everything was pretty normal. My parents loved each other, they took me to carnivals and movies when they could afford it, and I went to school and had a few friends like a regular kid."

The life she is describing, the parents that raised her, sound nothing like the one I read about.

"My father got laid off, and that's when my life and my family, went to shit," she continues, directly answering my silent question, as if she can sense it. The hair on the back of my neck raises, wondering briefly if she might know that I read the article, but she closes her eyes and continues as if nothing is suspicious.

"When he lost his job, I was around 10-years-old, and my mother was forced to work so we could keep our 2-bedroom apartment. She worked as a waitress; the best job she could get that paid good money. I won't lie, she was good looking then and still is now, so she drew in a lot of male attention, which was great for the tips, but terrible for when my father would wander in after he ran out of beer at the house, and needed more from the bar. The place she worked at was within walking distance from our place, since my father always used the car, my mother had to find something close to home.

"He would see the way the men would flirt with her, and the way she would politely turn them down, but still smile and laugh with them out of respect, being their server and wanting to cater to their needs to a professional degree, and in a way for personal so she would get a decent tip. My father never understood what being friendly meant, and would often beat my mother once she got home, claiming she was cheating on him while she was at work, and that was why she worked such late hours."

She stops and sucks in a sharp breath, one hand reaching up to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. My hand instinctively goes to her other one resting on her leg, locking our fingers together and squeezing lightly.

"This behavior continued for a couple years; my father would get drunk, beat my mother after work, then be apologizing to her by the morning, just to repeat it all after she left again. I couldn't take it anymore, and one day I tried to get in between them. I don't regret it, it took his attention away from my mother for once, and I took it instead."

I can feel the rage bubbling inside me.

"Did your mother do nothing to stop him?" I ask, my voice low, trying to contain my anger.

Avery shakes her head. "There wasn't much she could do; you've seen my father. He is no different now than he was before, maybe just less of a lightweight now, but he still had the same amount of strength when he gets that way. My mother has never been able to overcome him, he always pushes her way. Only difference, was back then, when he first pushed her away, she ran to the next house over and asked them to call the cops."

That calms my anger a little. But why is it different now? From what Avery she said, it sounds like now her mother just lets her father beat her.

"I never really got to meet our neighbors, but I remember hearing a woman outside, screaming at my mother to go away, that she wants nothing to do with her drama. My mother had come running back into the house, my vision barely able to make her out, and she tried going at my father again. He took his attention away from me and turned to her, then I blacked out. I remember waking up in bed the next morning, with quite a few bruises on my face and a wicked headache, but thankfully no black eye or split lip like I had thought.

"Both my parents had agreed it was better to take a few days off, and my father had tried apologizing to me, but my mother refused to let him into my room, which had only sparking another fight. I went to school the next week, but the bruises weren't healed, and one of my teachers clearly saw and told the principal, who then called the cops and an investigation was opened against my family for home abuse."

I try and show a bit of shock or surprise when hearing that, but she doesn't seem to be paying too much attention to my reaction, her mind lost in the past.

"It didn't take long for my mother to crack and confess everything. She told them about the 2-year long beatings and the final straw, when he beat me. She also confessed that she had tried running to a neighbor to call the cops because she was too scared, but was turned away. I remember a woman being brought in; her face twisted in a sour scowl, yelling at my mother that it was all her fault. My father was arrested and sentenced to prison, my mother and I moved away and tried starting a new life. But surprise, he was released a year later and managed to track us down within a week."

She stops and wiggles her hand under mine.

"Aiden?" she calls. I realize then I'm not even looking at her anymore, my eyes are glued to the ground. "Hey, are you alright? You're squeezing my hand a little tight."

That snaps me out of it completely, and I look down at our hands. My knuckles are wrapped tightly around her small hand, practically crushing it between mine. I notice my other hand is gripping the sheets next to me.

I can't help the anger coursing through me. I take one look at this sweet, gorgeous, caring girl next to me, and I can't ever imagine anyone wanting to lay a hand on her.

Thinking about it brings flashbacks of the man in the alley, and the girl he was taking advantage of. She had an innocent looking face, and though she was basically passed out when he raped her, I saw the fear in her eyes when I had ripped him off her and beat the crap out of him.

I thought the fear was for me, but the way she had mouthed a silent 'thank you' when I was being taken away by police, told me the fear wasn't for me.

It was for him.

Pure terror and distraught. I know what happened to her that night is haunting her still, even 2 long years after. 20-years isn't going to be enough to erase those emotional scars.

I don't ever want to see the same fear in Avery's eyes.

***

I can't believe this is happening. This is not how I imagined my night turning out.

Hell, I never thought I would even see the end of the week.

Yet here I am, sitting on Aiden's bed, wearing his clothes and spilling my guts.

I'm still not over the fact I'm here. I fought so hard, I didn't want to call him, I told myself I wasn't going to involve him in this.

But I couldn't take it anymore. My mother had given up fighting him the instant he tossed her into the wall. She already knew she was going to get a beating after me, she didn't want to make it any worst.

I didn't want her to either, she's always taking it, he is always going after her. When he doesn't get it out of his system once she is bloodied and bruised, that's when he turns to me.

Just as long as he doesn't touch her. That's all that matters.

"Why did she go back?"

Aiden's soft, overly concerned voice brings me back. I smile at the worry and anger laced in his tone, the fact the he cares so much that he is angry, warms me to my core. No one has ever cared, except my English teacher, Mrs. Lannoix.

"What?" I ask, not entirely hearing or understanding what he's asking.

He frowns and shuffles uncomfortably. "Your mother, why did she go back to your father, when she knew what he would do to her? Did she really think he changed?"

I'm already shaking my head before he finishes his sentence.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but in a way my mother needed my father, we both did and still do. She is sick and currently can't work, so my father is the only one able to make an income, and when the story broke out about my father, dating for my mother was hard."

His brows scrunch together. "What, how come?"

"No one wants to date a single mother with an abusive ex-husband, especially one who was practically friends with every police officer and business owner. He played a completely different part outside of the house than he did in it, the only reason he couldn't get another job, is because he met most of them at the bar, so they all knew he is a drunk. They only ever saw the happy-drunk side."

I feel his hand squeeze mine again, his other hand digging into the sheets. I know this is what he wants to hear, but I can't help but feel terrible for making him so angry.

It touches me that he is, but it's my pain and anger to carry. Not his.

He opens his mouth, and I know he is going to question more about my mother, and why she never left, but I'm running out of lies, so I try and cut it short.

"Can we talk about something else? Just for tonight?" I ask and avert my eyes, hoping he will think I'm trying to drop it because it's upsetting me too much, which isn't entirely untrue.

But mainly because I can't tell him the truth, and I know if he keeps asking, I'm going to cave or mess up, and end up having to tell him.

He can never know the truth.

No one can ever know.