Little Liars

Weightless

Miles led me inside his house and I gasped in awe at how lovely and huge it was.

"Miles I got you - oh, hello," a woman said as she walked into the entrance.

"Mum, this is Marcy," Miles introduced me to the heart-faced brunette. "Marcy, this is my mum, Lydia."

"Pleased to meet you," Lydia said with a smile as she extended her hand. I shook it tentatively.

"We'll be outside," Miles said to his mum with a smile.

"Alright, shout if you need anything and help yourself to the pantry, dear," Lydia directed to me. I nodded and smiled shyly before following Miles down the large archway and out the high-end glass backdoor. 

The backyard was huge - maybe an acre - and it had a pool connected to an in-ground spa beside the decking. There was a few meters of grass beyond the decking before the backyard was split in half by a black wrought iron fence. I wondered why they needed to fence off majority of the yard when a huge dog appeared from no where, wagging its massive tail enthusiastically.

"This is my dog, Bayard," Miles said, gestering to the fawn coloured Great Dane.

He opened the gate and we both slipped in. Bayard sniffed me curiously, his head level with my naval. I gently pat his head and his big watery, brown eyes looked curiously up at me.

Miles led across the grass and down towards the back corner of the backyard where a tree with a swing tied to it stood. Bayard happily followed us, occasionally nudging mine or Miles' hands for pats. I sat on the old wooden swing as Miles leant against the tree trunk.

"So, what happened?" Miles asked as he rubbed Bayard's ears. 

"Uh," I hesitated. Should I tell him? How will be react? I've never told anyone anything before. Who cares, you barely know him, if it ends badly you just leave.

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone," Miles said, his blue eyes looking into my grey ones.

"Okay, it's just that I've never talked to anyone about this before, I never talk to anyone about anything in all honesty," I explained. 

"That's okay, I'm here to listen," he smiled tentatively.

"Okay," I took a deep breath, trying to organise my thoughts. "When I was fourteen my mum passed away, and since then my step-dad has become really abusive in every way possible. Last night I didn't go home because he had a woman over and this morning when I got home he beat me. I grabbed my things and escaped out my bedroom window."

"Wow," Miles said, his eyebrows rising. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," I shrugged.

"How - how did you mum pass away?" Miles asked, looking down. "If I may ask?"

"Uh, she found out she had cancer and killed herself a few months later when they said they couldn't help her," I said, tears pricking my eyes. 

"Shit - Marcy - god, I'm sorry," Miles said as he ran his hand through his golden hair. 

"And after that my step-dad, Mark, moved houses because he couldn't cope being in the old house anymore and he just became really abusive," I told him. I found that I felt okay talking to Miles. "Just before I turned fifteen he raped me and beat me when I didn't cooperate and that happened for months until I gave up and just let him do it."

"He raped you?" Miles said, astounded. "Did you tell the police?"

"No," I shook my head. "I didn't think they'd believe me."

"Marcy," Miles shook his head. "You should have told them. Maybe they could have done something and kept you safe."

"Oh, I stopped caring about my safety when I was fifteen," I explained with a shrug. "I dropped out of school and got into drugs and sex, lots of it, and Mark found out and moved us again when I was seventeen to where I live - lived, until recently." 

"I never thought - I mean, I knew you were different but I never expected anything like this," Miles said, his voice soft but his eyes full of concern and sadness. 

"Ta da," I said, my voice breaking.

Miles walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me as hot tears slid down my cheeks. 

"Where are you going now?" he murmured, looking at me.

"Uh, I'm meeting a friend later today and I'm going to tell him what happened and ask him for advice," I said, wiping my tears.

"Is your, uh, friend, is he into all this stuff?" Miles asked.

"No," I said.

"Is your friend trustworthy? What kind of guy is he?" Miles interrogated. 

"He's trustworthy," I felt myself smile. "He's really different to any other guy I've been involved with - he was really gentle and he seemed to really care about me."

"Marcy, you're blushing, tell me more," Miles smiled slightly. 

"Well, I don't know him overly well, I met him a week or so ago in a coffee shop - I dropped my coins and he helped me pick them up and then offered for me to join him," I smiled at the memory. 

Miles nodded in encouragement.

"After that he invited me back to his place and I stayed the night," I finished. I knew I was venting to Miles but I felt okay with it. 

"How many guys have you slept with?" Miles said, suddenly serious.

"I have no idea, too many, upwards of thirty," I said, looking into my lap. 

"After you sleep with them, do you see them again or think about them?" he asked. He sounded like he was going somewhere with this, but I couldn't figure out where.

"No, I almost never see them again, and if I do they just want me for another night and then they're gone again," I said, frowning. "But I never think of them or want to see them again."

"But you do with this friend of yours?" There it is. That's what he was getting at. 

"What's your point?" I laughed nervously.

"Marcy, when I met you, you lied about your name, you were distant, cold, you didn't take your hood off, you gave no fucks at all," Miles said, leaning in. "But when you talk about this friend of yours you look relaxed, your cheeks have colour, you smile - your walls are down. I guess what I'm trying to say is, he's different to you than any other guy has been. You like him."

I sat there for a moment. Did I like Dean? The thought scared me. Intrigued me. 

"What if he doesn't feel the same way?" I said quietly. 

"If he didn't, he wouldn't be meeting you tonight to make sure you're okay," Miles said, and I could tell he was being truthful.

"His name is Dean," I murmured as butterflies errupted in my stomach.

Miles smiled at me and we continued to talk for hours, about everything, about nothing. It was the first time I had let anyone in for years - I missed feeling close to someone.