Every Broken Thing: Far From Ruined Book 1

Chapter 2

"Don't touch me!" I curled in on myself, and the boy immediately retreated.

Raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender, he spoke again, and I blinked several times as I tried to translate his words. "...name?"

"Huh?" I furrowed my brows as I gasped in short breaths, trying to calm the adrenaline-laced fear pumping through my body.

Concern carved a deep frown in his angelic face, and he repeated his question slowly in a soft tenor reserved for a cornered, wounded animal. "Everything's gonna be okay. What's your name?"

My name?

Weakness burrowed into my shaking limbs as I peeked at the still-unconscious Boyt, but eventually I was able to stutter out a pathetic, "S-Silas."

"I'm Ben." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a shiny cellphone. "Silas, are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance or just the police?"

His words confused me, and my panic grew exponentially at the implications of his questions. Police? Was he insane? There was no way in hell I was calling the police! Everyone would find out; the whole school would know, and I had enough problems already without adding on something like this.

And who would believe me anyway? A guy getting assaulted? Yeah, right! Without physical proof, it was my word against his. Other than the light bruises forming around my wrists, I showed no signs of trauma. Ben was crazy to think I would breathe a word of this.

I shook my head violently as the numbness encasing my body dissipated. I ran my hand through my messy hair and straightened my shirt, choking as my fingers brushed my unbuttoned jeans. Dangerously close to falling down, they hung on my hips by sheer determination, and I fought off the strangled moan clawing its way up my throat as I forced my trembling fingers to close them. I couldn't remember Boyt opening my jeans. Oh God, I was going to throw up.

"Silas?"

Remembering I wasn't alone, I jerked my gaze away from my shaky hands and met worried blue eyes. Ben stood in the exact position as before with his fingers poised over his phone as he watched me expectantly. Did he ask me a question?

"What?"

Something akin to pity colored his face, and I flushed hot with mortification at getting caught in such a predicament. What must he think of me, witnessing such a pitiful display? I was such a fucking pussy, standing there as Eric touched me. I didn't even fight him, did I? He put his hands on me, and I did nothing but beg for mercy. Jesus, I was pathetic.

I wanted to go home, take a scalding-hot shower, and hide away in my bed as I cried like a baby. When did I turn into such a girl?

"Listen, my coach is still here, and we can go get him, tell him everything before we call the police." His soothing voice conflicted with the humiliating notion, and I once again shook my head.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." I swiped my hands over my clothes, cleaning the nonexistent dirt from the fabric. "Don't call anyone. Just forget it."

"Forget it?" Unease morphed into astonishment, and his eyes crashed with turbulent waves of barely controlled anger. "Am I crazy, or was he just trying to—"

I interrupted him before he could say the word that would break me, the word that made this all too real. "Jesus Christ! Would you let it go? Just forget it!"

Retrieving my backpack from where I dropped it haphazardly during the scuffle, I shuffled around him. I took extra care to keep myself from touching both him and the comatose dickwad lying on the floor, and though Ben called my name, I ignored him. I wanted nothing to do with him, the strange boy who saved me, but when I made to rush from the bathroom to escape into the early evening, I was stopped by a hand cinched around my wrist. I knew it wasn't Eric, but my hysteria surged forward, snapping my self-control. I spun with my fist flying.