The Boy at My Window

Chapter Fourteen: Get to Know Him a Bit More

"Hey, Shaina!" I heard Alice's screechy voice.

"What the hell do you want?" I seethed.

"Where have you been? Everyone is worried about you."

"Shut up, Alice. You are a f-"

I was cut off by a loud rapping on the door. "Shaina? You okay? You've been in there awhile."

"Yeah Matthew, I'm fine!" I hollered back. "I'll be out in a few minutes!"

"You're with Matthew?" Alice screeched.

"Oh you didn't hear. Matthew and I are best friends. I gotta go, Alice. You heard Matthew. He's worried about me. Tata!" I hung up the phone grinning to myself. Point Shaina.

I clambered out of the tub and dried off. I slipped into my room and threw on a tank top and a pair of sweatpants.

I opened my bedroom door and found Matthew sitting outside. "Well hello."

"Ready to go back downstairs?" he asked me as he stood up.

"Are you going to let me walk or?"

He shook his head. "Not a chance." He said seriously.

"Then, how about you go make us some coffee and I'll wait here, at the top of the stairs. We'll talk here."

He looked at me and I thought he was going to object but he just sighed in defeat and said, "How do you take your coffee?"

I smiled. "Caramel creamer and two scoops of sugar."

He turned and thundered down the stairs. I sat down and thought of the questions I would ask Matthew when he came back.

My phone buzzed. I wrestled it out of the waistband of my sweatpants and checked.

Unknown number: It's on b****

Alice... I just knew it.

Shut the f*** up and leave me alone. You don't scare me.

You should be scared. She answered back quickly.

I just locked my phone and put it back in my waistband. She didn't scare me.

Matthew came up the stairs slowly, carrying two coffee mugs. He handed me the smaller Kind Coffee mug and held onto the large Bad Ass Coffee cup.

"Thank you so much." I said cradling my mug in my cold hands.

Matthew sat down across from me, careful not to spill his coffee. He took a sip while looking at me over the rim of the cup.

"So what do you want to know?" he asked after swallowing.

"Tell me your story." I told him taking a sip of my coffee. I smiled at the warmness of it.

He frowned at me. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me the story of Matthew Knight. Why is he the brooding bad boy?" I clarified.

"Alright, let's start from the beginning," he took a swig of coffee. "I wasn't wanted as a child. I was an accident. A fun night. I wasn't meant to be born. From the moment I was born, not in a hospital might I add, my parents hated me. My mom looked at me as a kill-joy. I ruined her fun life of drinking and drugs. God, the drugs. My mom would take me with her to pick up her drugs from her dealers. She would use me to get the price her dealer was asking for, down. She used the 'oh I'm a single mother with a kid. I don't have that much money' excuse." He took another sip. "My dad was drunk from the day I was born. I have never, in my life, seen him sober. He would leave the house drunk and come home drunker. When I was six, my mom left. She just literally up and left. I came home from school and she was no where to be seen. Her closet was empty, all her belongings gone. She didn't care about me. She left me alone at six to fend for myself against my drunk dad." Another swig. "My dad came home high one night. He was so messed up and in the drug haze, he saw me as a threat. He beat me. He beat me within an inch, an inch, of my life." He took in a shaky breath. I could tell the memories were painful for him.

"Matthew," I stopped him laying a hand on his leg, "you don't have to continue."

He shook his head. "No. I do. You have to know I trust you. I want you to trust me too."

I nodded. "Okay." I whispered.

He took a deep breath, a sip of coffee, and continued, "He loved the feeling of being powerful and he became addicted to it. He beat me anytime he laid eyes on me. Now, he's so high or drunk, he doesn't even know what's going on. Two days ago, he threw a remote at me because I didn't look at him when he told me I was worthless. Last week, he beat me to the ground," he pulled up his shirt to reveal the angry bruise on his hip I had seen in the car, "and he kicked me leaving this." He set his cup on the stair and rolled up his sleeves. White and pink scars sprinkled his forearm. One thick white one stood out. It ran the length of his arm, from the middle of his bicep to his wrist. Matthew ran a finger over it, "My dad came home pissed one night when I was nine years old. He dragged me out of bed and into the kitchen. He-" Matthew choked. I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "He yanked a knife out of the block and trailed it down my arm yelling at me about how it was my fault my mom left him and that I didn't deserve to live. I shouldn't have been alive." He dug his fingers into his eyes to stop the tears that were building. "You're probably wondering why don't I fight back." he looked down at his hands, "I know that if I fight back, I won't be able to stop. I won't be able to bite back the anger I've been holding back. I'll probably kill him. I'm just taking it until I can get out of this damned town. That's why I do so well in school. I want to make it out of here. I want to do something with my life! Something productive. I just want to make it." He sighed finished. Matthew reached for his coffee cup and downed the remaining contents.

"That, was a lot more than I expected..." I swallowed a gulp of my coffee. "I know this is weird but, can I hug you?"

Matthew sighed a laugh. "Sure." He held his arms out.

I slid closer to him and wrapped my arms around him. "You'll make it." I whispered to him. "I know it."

Wow! That's a super long chapter. And you got Matthew's life story! I hope you guys enjoy this. I really enjoyed writing this!

This story is really moving along and I'm extremely happy with it.

Enjoy!

Avery