Dangerous | b.w.s

37

"Do you want to go home?" Brad asks me softly.

I don't think I can go home and lie to Sam tonight and I certainly can't tell her the truth or I'll never be allowed out of the house again. I just want to be alone or with someone I don't have to explain everything to.

"Not really." My throat croaks, I sound like a mess.

Brad glances at me for a second before looking back to the road.

"Do you want to come back to mine?" He asks me and not even in a suggestive way which surprises me.

"Yeah." I mumble quietly. I'm so tired.

The rest of the journey is in a comfortable silence as we both watch the dark road and bright lights of cars going by. Eventually, we reach Brad's apartment that he shares with James. We both get out of the car and walk towards the door, Brad holding it open for me.

"Can you please let me wash your cuts?" I ask as soon as he shuts the door. I don't want them to get infected.

"They're fine Liv." He looks down at me with a hint of a smile etched upon his lips.

"Okay but if they get infected and you have to have your fingers cut off then what use will I have for you then?" I tease him.

"Okay you can clean them." He almost immediately responds making me chuckle quietly at his desperation.

I take his wrist in my hand and lead him to the kitchen, placing his hand under the tap and turning it on. He doesn't even react as the cold water hits his open wounds. I begin to clean the cuts delicately whilst feeling his eyes watching me the entire time. I look up to meet them, he continues staring at me.

"What?" I ask him.

"Nothing." He simply replies. I watch him as I see a small smile on his lips. And by small I mean the tiniest curl of the corners of his mouth. I focus back on his cuts for about 2 minutes until he speaks up.

"Why do you live with your aunt?" Brad asks me softly. Wow that's a bit forward. My stomach gets butterflies as the nerves kick in. I never tell anyone this and I don't know if I can trust Brad yet. All I know is he certainly won't tell anyone.

"Why do you need to know?" I answer him.

"I'm curious." He shrugs. "I mean I'm definitely not in a position to judge I don't exactly have a great track record with parents." He says simply as if he doesn't care.

I guess I could tell him, I already trust him more than a few of my friends which is scary but true.

"I don't have any parents." I sigh whilst not making eye contact but staring at his wounds.

"What happened?" He asks a little more soothingly.

"Do you want the short version or the long version?" I ask quietly as I switch from Brad's left hand to his right hand.

"Long." He replies quickly.

"Well." I sigh. "My dad wasn't very happy and was on a lot of pills. Eventually, after hurting for so long he killed himself when I was 7. My mum was distraught and we struggled to get by with only one income; then she met a guy. He wasn't very nice but she liked him for some reason, they ended up getting married when I was 11 and we could finally afford things. Then I started to notice bruises on my mum and she was getting a lot more sad. I would ask her what's wrong and she would tell me nothing, just the stress of work and I believed her. I believed her because I was young and naive. Then it all got worse, she would have new bruises and injuries every single day, my step-dad would become more powerful, my mum more weak. I knew something was wrong but I couldn't figure out what. Then one day when I was 13, I came home to a house full of police." I stop my story to regain control of my emotions.