All Rubber Duckies Go To Heaven

Chapter Twenty-Four

He had me backed up against the wall. One hand was on the wall over my shoulder and he held a half empty bottle of beer in the other. The bitter smell of alcohol was present in his words and had me flinching as he spoke.

“I just came to see you. Was that what’s-his-face? Aiden?” His eyes leaked anger.

“No,” I lied briskly. “I got a ride home from this guy. Didn’t have money for the bus.”

Jayden growled. “I hate it when you do that. He could have been some creep pedo or some shit. You should have just called me.”

It felt like I was getting drunk just by breathing in his words. This wasn’t good. He was mad and the beer had probably rewired his brain so he had a shorter fuse. The feeling of danger seemed to jump my heart and I scrambled to ease into a defensive position in this conversation.

“Sorry hon,” I played back as I saw his hand tighten on the bottle’s neck. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

He pushed off the wall and I flinched. Sympathy pooled off his composure for a moment as he leaned against the opposite wall. He sighed. “Whatever. Are we gonna go inside or what? I’m freezing.”

Uh…

“I think my dad is home. That probably isn’t the best idea right now.”

Jayden scoffed. “I can protect you from him Jan. He doesn’t have any excuse to do the things he does. Just let me come up. I can talk to him or something. Or I could spend the night.” His brown eyes seemed to gleam. “Remember when we used to do that? ‘Sleep overs’,” he laughed as he finger quoted. “Those were pretty awesome nights. I mean, we didn’t do much. But just watching you sleep… It was intoxicating. I miss that, being with you like that.” He took a step toward me ad set the bottle down on the ground. The clanking of glass on concrete reverberated off the narrow entrance walls and sent chills up my spine. He reached out and touched my shaking arm gingerly, frowning at my response. “Jan, I miss you. God, it’s only been, what, two days? I can’t stand it.”

I slid further toward the entrance door, away from Jayden. “Please, don’t. I need this. Just…give me some time, okay? I need some time to think.” I started for the door but Jayden grabbed onto my arm. Hard. I tried pulling away put his grip was firm. He tried taking a step toward me but stumbled and fell to the ground, taking me down with him. I screamed as the skin on my arm was twisted but what hurt more was the actual hitting the wall with my head part. The blow stunned me but that was all. I was a little shaken but that was all.

Jayden’s grip on me was slack now and I pushed away so I could evaluate what had happened to him.

“Jayden?” I whispered roughly and tentatively, shaking him. He groaned and rolled onto his back, putting a hand to his side.

“Sorry Princess,” he apologized, looking into my eyes. For a moment his looked clear. “Guess I’m not at my best right now.”

I couldn’t help it as sympathy ran its course through me and my head leaned against the wall, lolling to the side so I could look back at him, smiling weakly. “You should really stop drinking.”

He pushed off the ground so he could sit up beside me, grunting as he did so. “So you’ve said.” There was a brief silence before he tried getting up. “Guess I better be heading home. Don’t want my car to be towed or some shit.” His hand was splayed out and against the wall as he tried to stand. The attempt failed as he cursed and hit the ground again.

I bit my lip. “Fine, you can stay. But if you do anything it’s not gonna sit pretty in my mind. And…my dad is home so...” I helped him up and he staggered, throwing my balance off. It was a task to get him up to the apartment.

The sound of entrance was amplified by the still setting of the apartment. I dumped Jayden on the couch before slipping into the kitchen. “Do you want something?” I asked, sort of loud but hushed as to not bother the irritable representation of my sleeping father.

“Uh, do you have a tortilla or something? My stomach isn’t in a good mood.” His voice was starting to slur, which, surprisingly, wasn’t common with Drunk Jayden.

“Uh, okay?” I pulled the package out of our bread box and pulled a soda out of the fridge for me (I’m horribly hooked on caffeine). When I strode back into the living room I tossed the tortilla at Jayden. “There.”

His lack of response was very out of character. I did a double take as I slid into my chair. “Jayden?”

Nothing.

“Jayden?”

Again, nothing. I stood tentatively to take a better look at him and was in for some mind blowing things.

While I had been in the kitchen he had been shrugging out of his jacket. Up his arms were heavy black bruises and a thick, healing scar. I fell to my knees in shock.

My fingers ran over the bruises lightly, carefully grazing his skin. They were the distinct marks of fingers, much like my own but somehow horribly worse. The scar was like a nightmare. It was clean and as long as my hand, running up the top side of his right forearm. The sides were puffy and red, agitated and infected.

My first though was that Jayden had done this himself but it didn’t add up. Jayden was right handed, nearly handicapped with his left hand. When he was little he had burned it pretty bad so now the nerves were all screwed up and it made it hard for him to hold a cup in that hand, much less the handle of a knife. And that cut was straight as a ruler.

Something was horribly screwed up.