*CW: Blood, violence*
The next week came and went quickly. In an instant, it was Saturday morning all over again. Thanks to Anthony's patience, my grades were steadily inclining as the semester winded to an end. He was consistently reminding me to stay on top of my homework, as well as helping me with the areas I was struggling. He is smart and kind and so so handsome. I might be the luckiest girl in the world.
Dad was up and ready to go first thing this morning, as per usual. I was in such a good mood lately that I didn't mind when he marched into my room this morning, pretending to play a trumpet to wake me up.
Sprawled under the comforter, I laid still while my dad finished his musical routine. He then sat at the foot of my bed, explaining our plan for the day. Something about dinner with grandparents, fixing a broken sink, washing the truck... I spaced out after a minute, whatever our schedule was didn't matter much to me. Wherever my family went, I followed along quietly.
Despite my dad's demand to spend some family time outside, Cameron talked his way out of it. Again.
We ended up making our way to a park downtown after breakfast. Just past the main shopping centre, long hiking trails winded around the entirety of the park; the trails snaked through the trees up and down small hills that enclosed a public sports complex. The well nourished grass fields on either side of a brand new jungle gym were open to use by individuals or youth teams for practice. Often times, there would be groups leading yoga sessions in the grass, or even movie night at the park. Soon there would be a large concert in the field to kick off summer.
This was the perfect opportunity for my dad to test out his new birthday gift: a digital camera with a longer lens than he knew what to do with. He was excited to take pictures of birds. Mom and dad decided to walk the trail so they could spy for critters, and I opted to jog ahead. Wanting to continue my running hobby, I came dressed in loose black shorts, a matching black sports bra, and a soft pink t-shirt.
I opted to take the shirt off, running with my skin exposed. The air felt good on my body after months of hiding it. Even the raised white scars felt better to be outside and uncovered.
The happiness I have felt lately gave me a new taste for life.
***
I slowed my pace on the trail, needing to catch my breath. Coming to a stop, I spied a water fountain by the commons building in the center of the sports complex. I happily got off the path while checking that my parents were still far behind me. Though far out of sight, I could still hear my dad feeling flustered by his new camera.
No longer under the shade of the trees, the sun warmed my skin. I was so relieved to not be covering my battered arms; I wanted to absorb as much of the light as I could. Making my way across the grassy arena, the cheers of families watching the little kids soccer match filled the air. Plant life was blooming, not a cloud in the sky; everyone seemed so happy today.
Except for one.
He grabbed my bicep tightly, yanking me right towards the dirt parking lot. I didn't even have to look up to know. Nausea twisted in my throat as the familiar pungent cologne clouded my nose. His dirty finger nails pinched my arm, just as they did in the movie theater.
Cain grumbled to himself. He rolled the bottom of his shirt up to wipe away the beads of sweat on his forehead. I did not bother to assume he would be here; I had forgotten he was associated with soccer. In fact, I had almost completely forgotten about him entirely.
We neared the vehicles when a wave of panic hit me. Despite his grip on my arm, why was I walking with him? My legs locked, refusing to move I attempted to pull my arm from his grasp.
"Where are taking me?"
"To my car. We're leaving." He said without looking at me.
"Let go of me, you little shit." I hissed.
He stopped walking, his hand tightening more. I felt my pulse throbbing in my upper arm. I pulled away once more, he finally released. The force sent me tumbling back a few steps. I should have turned to leave- to run away- but I wanted to face this confrontation head on. I wanted to try.
"What do you think you're doing out here?" He groaned, looking me up and down.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Where are your clothes? Did you seriously not get enough attention yet?" He said sarcastically, making himself cackle. My face flushed, I suddenly felt completely exposed. I wanted to cover up, but more so I didn't want him to know he was getting in my head. Remembering my new spine from Mrs. Nik, this was a good time to use it.
"You have no right to judge what I wear, or do. In fact, I don't want to talk to you ever again. You're completely pathetic, Cain" his name was bitter in my mouth, "If your father is even an ounce of how disgusting you are, I would completely understand why your mom left."
With that, his palm came careening across the side of my face. My cheek was stinging as his flattened hand remained in front of me. Cain's finger pointed sharply, I flinched as he jetted it closer to me.
"Don't ever talk about my mother."
I tried to focus on my breath, forcing away the angry tears. Before I had the chance, a voice took over on my behalf.
"Get away from her, you slimy little fuck."
Cain and I looked back over my shoulder at the approaching figures: Anthony.
Both in their workout gear, his older brother had to pry the baseball bat from Anthony's hands. I've never seen so much anger in one person. He marched right passed me and his hands shoved into Cain's chest, pushing him back from me. The force knocked Cain onto his butt in the dirt.
Anthony turned halfway around, gently caressing his knuckles to my reddened cheek. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, holding onto his arm. Please take me away from here.
Anthony's brother stood behind me, "Everything alright over here?"
"Mind your business." Cain answered, wiping the dust off of himself as he stood.
"Would you just shut the fuck up already?" Anthony's attention shifted off of me once more. The boy's tension towards each other only grew.
From the corner of my eye, two more figures were walking towards us off of the hiking trail. I recognized my parents immediately. My dad had given up on his photographic expedition and was heading back for the truck. The truck parked right behind this testosterone festival.
I tugged at Anthony's shirt, begging him to let the issue go. The boys continued their stare down. My parents drew closer. Finally Tristan put his gloved hand on his little brother's shoulder, encouraging him to move. With a disgruntled sigh, Anthony finally turned away. He extended his arm around me, keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Cain reached out to take my hand. I froze.
"I said don't touch her." Anthony growled.
He refused to let go. "She's not going anywhere with you."
"I said don't touch her." Anthony repeated through gritted teeth.
"Don't think I don't know about you: I know what you did in art class, I know what happened with Sara, I know what happened when you told everyone you were 'hurt'. Ha! Everyone else might think you're hot shit because you're good at throwing a ball, but I know the truth, Tony. I know you're a fraud and a loser." Cain sneered, "I know you're not man enough. Real men take what they want, and don't share sloppy seconds. You know Stephanie came on to me, right? At the school dance. She wanted it bad, so I gave to her good."
With that, Anthony lost control. Cain still held my hand, so when Anthony's fist crashed into his face, he pulled me to the ground with him. Anthony wasted no time, climbing on top of him and driving more punches down at Cain.
Tristan pulled me away from the tussle, helping me back to my feet. I checked behind him and saw my parents moving towards us in a hurry now. I was too overwhelmed to be nervous; there was too much to worry about in the moment.
Blocking the punches with his arms, Cain pulled his leg up to kick at Anthony and slip out from underneath him. The boys got back on their feet quickly, fists in front of their faces in a guarded position and ready to continue the fight. The crowd from the soccer game cheered on the kids, oblivious to the brawl. I didn't even notice I had been holding my breath.
The boys moved at each other; arms linking as they pushed and punched the other to gain control, Cain's leg swept behind Anthony's causing him to buckled onto his knees. While he was down, Cain seized the chance to land a few heavy hits. Anthony's eyebrow split under the blows, blood oozed from the cut over his eye and down his cheek. He seemed completely unaware. Tristan and I watched on, beginning to feel horrified by the extent of their violent anger.
Cain drew his arm back higher but Anthony pushed off his feet, his weight driving into Cain's shoulders. The boys collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, knocking the wind out of Cain. My Anthony was blinded by his anger. He leaned his forearm across Cain's chest, Anthony's legs pinning down his arms. Anthony continued to wail on the bully. His fist dropped heavily on the boy's face over, and over, and over again.
SNAP! A sickening crack rang out from the fight; Cain's nose was flattened to the side. His face was red from swelling and the blood that seeped from his lips and nose. His eyes were puffy, the skin around them turning purple; Cain was nearly unrecognizable. At that moment, he grew pale and limp. Anthony seemed like a machine stuck in motion, swinging down at him, unable to stop.
"Hey! Get off, stop that!" My parents yelled as they were close now, my dad ran over to the boys.
"Stephanie, what is going on?" Mom asked me as tears overflowed my eyes.
Dad wrapped his arms around Anthony from behind, pulling him off of Cain. Blood gurgled from Cain's throat, sputtering out from his mouth and turning the ground muddy. Mom walked past me, looking down at his mostly unconscious boy before taking her phone out to call for help. The game must have ended, a few people began walking towards us. A woman screamed at the bloody aftermath just as Anthony struggled out of my dad's grasp.
His adrenaline still running high, Anthony pushed away and raised his fist once more, intending to shift his attack on whoever stopped him. Dad knocked his fist out of the way, ready to fight back if needed. My dad grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands, giving Anthony a rough shake to get his attention.
He was finally able to see through the rage. Anthony realized who was holding him back, his eye widened in shock. Dad released him with a look for overwhelming disappointment.
"Start talking. What the hell is going on here?" Dad asked sternly.
Blood dripped off of Anthony's chin. I watched his chest rise and fall quickly while he struggled to slow his breathing. He looked at Cain's battered face, then back at my dad, "Sir... I- I'm sorry. I had to..."
A small crowd had gathered around the commotion, a few of the adults were murmuring and pointing at Anthony. I grew aware of sense of blame that was being placed on him, and the trouble that was soon to follow. In a moment of panicked instinct, I bolted. Grabbing Anthony's wrist as I ran past, we dodged the crowd and I looked for somewhere to hide.
"Stephanie! God damn it." My dad yelled after me. His voice was deep and graveled with fury. His hands went up into his hair with frustration. Mom called for his attention; I knew he would stay by her and not follow me.
Tears stained my eyes as I broke away, running towards the road with Anthony in tow. As we reached the other side of the commons building, a deep wheezing cough escaped his bloodied lips. I looked past the corner of the beige brick wall to be sure no one watched us, luckily Cain being so dramatically splayed on the ground held everyone's attention. I pushed Anthony into the women's restroom. The dirty metal door had no handle or lock; helping it swing shut, I dragged the heavy plastic trash bin in front of the door to block it from opening again. The overflowing wet paper towels fell to the ground as I stepped back, bracing myself for anyone to open the door.
All I could think was someone trying to come for Anthony. I was afraid of someone taking him away, punishing him for what he did... what he did terrified me too. I could have never imagined this beautiful, kind, man turning to such horrific violence. I wonder, if my dad didn't stop him, how far would Anthony have gone?
I heard the whooping siren of a police car and hissing air brakes of the ambulance as it pulled into the unpaved parking lot on the other side of the building. My eyes were locked on the door, my body frozen in shock.
Anthony sniffled with a shuttering breath. I turned to look at him, Anthony's hands gripped tightly to the edges of the porcelain sink. His hands were so swollen, his knuckles cracked and bleeding. Or maybe it wasn't his blood, I couldn't tell. The blood splattered up his bare arms, staining a majority of his fitted white shirt as well. The rust colored spots clung to the athletic fabric that was meant to absorb sweat.
He looked up at me in the mirror, but quickly moved his gaze back down. Anthony's left eye could hardly open as the blood continued to run from his brow. Sniffling again, he wiped his nose with the back of his wrist, smearing more of the crimson mark across his upper lip. He spit into the sink.
I walked over to him, slowly and nervously. The bottom of the white sink was hidden under the thick orange-ish red liquid that pooled in the bowl. The dark drip from Anthony's chin slowed. I pulled a handful of the thin napkins from the black dispenser on the wall and wadded them up before pressing them gently to Anthony's brow. Seeing up close just how deep the gash was made me feel a bit sick. I forced the queasiness away, Anthony winced from the stinging pain as I put more pressure on the wound.
"Steph, I'm sorry." His voice was deep and wavering, "He just... I'm sorry. I lost control."
I dropped the soiled napkin in the sink, grabbing a fresh one and wetting it to wipe the blood off of Anthony's face.
"He deserved it." Anthony growled. I grabbed another new tissue and continued to clean his face. "What were you doing with him?"
His body turned towards me quickly. I was so on edge, I jumped when his arm reached for me. Anthony recoiled, returning to his lowly position over the sink. I watched as he pulled his lips under his teeth, squeezing his watering eyes shut. A tear was forced out, helping wash away some of the dry blood on his cheek.
"You scared me, Anthony." I spoke quietly, my voice carried in the echo of the empty bathroom.
"I know." His arms flexed, his body still seething with anger.
"That was really scary."
"I'm so sorry, Stephanie." He cried, "You're dad looked like he hated me. And you... Stephanie, I don't want you to be scared of me. I would never ever hurt you. Please, whatever happens, you have to know that. I need you to know that I would never hurt you."
In the moment, I think I was scared of him. I knew he was strong, but seeing the extent of his strength and hatred was something I was not prepared for.
Anthony took my hands and fell weakly to his knees. He struggled to stifled his sobs.
"I fucked up. I'm so sorry." he held on to my hands tightly. He was overwhelmed with remorse. "I know it went too far. That was such a stupid mistake. I'm so sorry I did that, I'm sorry I scared you. I can't lose you."
How blind have I been to not see his fear, too? Was I really so preoccupied with my own worries that I didn't consider his? I knew in my gut that he did not regret what he did to Cain. I also did not doubt the shame he felt over it. I could not fault him for caring so deeply, for feeling so human.
I stepped closer, pulling his head against my waist in a hug. I reached one hand down to rub his back as I shushed his cries. His arms wrapped around my legs. Slowly breathing in my nose and quietly out from my mouth, I took a moment to try and settle my still racing heart.
Looking at the messy aftermath around us, I said with a half chuckle "I love you, Anthony. But I don't ever want to clean up this much blood again."
He laughed against my thigh. I knelt down beside him. We held each other quietly as our emotions cooled. We listened as the ambulance and other vehicles drove away. For awhile, it seemed completely silent.
The silence was interrupted by the bathroom door being pushed. The large panel thumped against the heavy trash can, but would not open more than an inch. As we listened to the plastic bin attempt to shuffle across the tile floor, Anthony and I stood up. He put his body in front of mine.
Leaning against the door to speak through the cracked opening, a calm voice called out, "Stephanie?"
"Mom?" I moved around Anthony to help her open the door. The reflection of red and blue lights flashed on the street behind her as mom pushed herself into the restroom. Her face was tangled with worry as she looked back and forth between the two of us.
"What are you two still doing here?"
We were too apprehensive to answer.
Mom shook her head, reaching into her fanny pack to pull out three loose bandaids. Looking Anthony over, she asked, "Are you okay?"
He nodded, "Yes. I just- "
"Nope." She held up her hand. "Don't tell me anything else. I didn't see you, I don't know you. As for you, Stephanie: there is only so much I can do to calm your dad. He's going to drive me home now that that boy is gone. Give him some time before you come home. Make sure this boy isn't with you."
"Did they take him to the hospital?"
Mom shook her head, "He declined. They set his nose and fixed him up as best as they could before he got in his car and drove off. Police were asking him who did it, but he refused to answer for now. The officer I talked to said they would get in touch with the boy's parents to get a statement."
Her voice was reassuring, with the confidence of someone who has been through this before. I remembered stories she told about my dad getting into some particularly ugly fights when they were dating. I never did ask how those teenage antics ended. Knowing each of those stories lead to my parents getting married and starting a family, I never even wondered about the realities or details of it all. Just how many times did my mom have to hide my dad to clean his wounds after a fight, too?
She handed Anthony the band aids before pulling me in for a hug. I sunk into her embrace like a little kid. Taking in her blueberry and jasmine perfume, my nerves began to relax. Life was such a mess lately, but in my mom's arms it was simple. I began to feel like my family was on my side.
"I'm going to go before dad comes looking for me. Anthony, about that guy you were with?"
"That's my brother, Tristan."
"Can you trust him with this?"
Anthony nodded solemnly.
"He's still out there, waiting for you I think." She rubbed my shoulders, "Get him cleaned up, and then get out of here before anyone else sees you."
"Thank you, mom."
With her hand on the door, my mom paused. She let out a heavy sigh and looked back at Anthony, "I don't know what that boy did, to push you to that point... You must have had a very good reason."
"I did." He looked at me, his eyes softening.
"I thought so. Take care of her." She stepped out of the bathroom, repeating once more, "I didn't see either of you."
As the door shut, I came to the realization that her anger before wasn't meant for me. She was mad at me for not being more cautious, she had been trying to protect us from my dad. Now more than ever.
Not wasting her advice, Anthony and I hurried to wash the remaining blood from his face. I placed the bandage on his brow and we prepared to sneak out of the building. The orange glow of the fluorescent tube lights over head hummed in my ear as I kissed Anthony. His sore body pressed against mine. His hands cupped my jaw as I twisted my head to kiss him more. I could not get close enough.
"I love you." He whispered into my lips, taking my hand and leading me through the door way.
I peaked around the corner; two black and white police SUV's were parked in the dirt lot, everyone else had already left or was currently leaving. The lights continued to flicker as the officers leaned lazily against the hood of one car, talking to each other. Just then, I heard a car pull up on the other side of the building. Tristan rolled the window down on his grey sedan and waved us over.
The adrenaline surged once more as Anthony and I ran for the passenger side of the car. The doors were barely shut before Tristan peeled off down the road. My heart continued to race, but the energy wore down quickly. I was just as quickly hit with a wave of exhaustion. My eyes and limbs felt heavy. Buckling my seatbelt as the car made a sharp turn towards town, I noticed Tristan look at me in the rear view mirror. He looked at his little brother with a sarcastic laugh:
"Dad's gonna kill you."