Bruises (BWWM)

11

11

Tamra

I didn't think Ben was serious, but turned out he actually was, which greatly surprised me. It was when we arrived at his place and I realized that I was skipping last period for the second time in the same week and that my dad would probably yell me out on this one, that I understood he was stalling.

Taking me to his apartment which was located a great distance away from the school campus, stopping by 7/11 to buy some jelly beans he ended up forgetting on the backseat of his car on the way there and now asking me if I wanted my glass to be refilled with water, Ben was totally avoiding telling the truth.

It's like he regretted even saying that he'd tell me. Which was understandable, but as he noticed the family picture I found last time back in my hands when he came back from the very small kitchen with my water, he knew he couldn't push it any longer.

"This," he begun snatching the crumbled picture from my fingers, "is mine."

I rolled my eyes, taking the glass he was offering me and placing it onto the small coffee table, not even intending to drink from it.

"Just tell me the damn story Ben," I sighed and he pinched his lips together, making him look very serious.

He lowered his gaze to the floor and turned his back to me. He then slowly took off his shirt and with a slow pace, as if he was utterly ashamed, spun around to face me again. A huge scar covered a part of his abdomen. It was of a soft pink color, a thin line of skin in the shape of what looked like a distorted thunder to me. He pointed at it.

"This is the start of it all," he enunciated, "The bruise that caused all the others."

I stood there, in front him, my stare oscillating from his planetary eyes to his scar, waiting apprehensively for the rest of the story. It felt weird, because although I really wanted to know the cause of his wounds more than anything it still felt as if I was violating a sacred part of his life. Maybe it was because I knew there was slim chance that his story could be worse than my mother's. Or maybe it was because he was shirtless.

Man, get it together Tam.

I concentrated onto his deep blue eyes that pulled me in like magnets.

"Four years ago marks the anniversary of the accident my twin sister and I were involved in. It was a stupid game. Elle didn't want to play, she wasn't the type to party, but I convinced her to. Our parents weren't home, the night it happened. I used to think that if they were, maybe it would've never happened, but it was pointless. It was already done. The group of friends I wanted to hang out with desperately and tried so hard to impress wanted me to come at the abandonned bridge at midnight, and my dumb self brought Elle along, thinking she needed to have some fun and stop being a freaking vibe-killer all the time even though she disapproved."

I cringed at the word vibe-killer. I was Elle, and she was me, I had already figured it out. Labeled, undervalued, criticized. She, just like me, was the not fun one. The one who was insecure and felt like she had to sometimes overcompensate just so she could feel accepted.

Ben continued :

"We were only thirteen, and she was... She was too young to die. And I'll never be able to fully forgive myself because it was my fault that I let her drink too much from that throat-burning alcohol bottle one of my 'friends' stole from his parents. Or let them start a stupid game of truth or dare. And let them dare Elle and myself to jump off that bridge as well as convincing us that they'd done it all the time and that it was completely safe. I mean, you can easily guess how it went down. After the jump, I was gravely hurt to the abdomen, but when she fell she died almost instantly. We moved away from that town since and settled here."