The school day dragged on for what seemed like a century. My paranoia was at an all-time high, I was constantly looking over my shoulder for Kyle. I also could not escape the feeling of being under a microscope. I felt even more vulnerable knowing that Trent wasn't here. Not that him being here had helped me at all since he fought his way into my life. But I couldn't help but find comfort in the idea that someone could be around the corner waiting to save me from my daily beatings. Knowing now that no one could possibly be there, well that was hard.
"Grayson, what happened this morning?" Nat asked when we finally got to lunch.
"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled as I stuffed my face full of soggy cafeteria fries.
"Well, the whole school kind of is," she said, and for the first time I noticed just how many eyes were actually on me. The whole cafeteria was snickering and pointing. My cheeks flushed a deep shade of red and I sunk into my seat at the table.
"Then you should know what happened." I said and stared at my tray of food.
"Everyone's been saying that you and Trent are dating? And that he tried to kill Kyle?" She asked in disbelief.
"Whoa, we're not dating!"
"So he did try to kill him?"
"No, of course not!" I did think back to when he threatened Kyle's life last week, but he was just trying to scare him. "Is Kyle still here?"
"No, he got taken to the hospital, I think his nose is like, shattered." I shivered at the thought, broken bones always freaked me out.
"Well at least I can relax now," I sighed and kept picking at my French fries.
"What happened to Trent? I heard he got arrested."
"What? No! God people around here are so desperate for gossip. He got suspended for a week," I grumbled.
"A week? And nothing happened to Kyle?"
"He actually never really got a hit in. He swung but he missed, and it was just Trent beating the piss out of him."
"What started it?" Nat asked.
"What do you think?"
"God, I can't believe it's 2020 and there are still homophobic bullies," her words dripped with anger.
"Believe it, because it's what I live every single day."
"I wish we could do something about it," she said.
"We tried, it's no use. Dr. Murphy knows he started it, there's no way he doesn't. But his dad is like, the school board president or whatever, so he's untouchable.
"And Trent gets suspended for a week for protecting you. It's bullshit."
"I think he was mostly protecting himself to be honest."
"What do you mean?" Her brows furrowed as she turned to look at me.
"Kyle keeps saying we're boyfriends and that we're dating. I don't think Trent liked the implication that he was gay very much, especially after the party.
"What happened at the party?" Nat asked, ears perked to hear the hot gossip.
"I don't know exactly," I sighed. "We left the party after you and Brayden went to dance and he started talking about what we'd be doing if I was one of the girls he takes out."
"Was he saying he regrets hanging out with you?" Her brows furrowed.
"No, I don't think so?"
"Did he say anything else?"
"That he's confused. Then he came up with a bullshit excuse to drive me home and I haven't heard from him since."
"He definitely has a crush you," she grinned.
"No way, not a chance." I argued.
"How else do you explain all of that?"
"I don't know, I think I'm supposed to absolve him of his sins. He is just as big a bully as Kyle and now suddenly he's protecting the gay kid and inviting him to a party? I think he just feels guilty."
"Or maybe he feels guilty cause he likes you," she sang.
"That's definitely not it," I laughed. We ate the rest of lunch in silence after arguing for a few more minutes about the possibility of Trent liking me. Obviously, it's something I've considered, especially after he asked me to that party. But could that really be it? What would a guy like him see in a damaged, awkward, freak of a boy like me?
I pushed those thoughts aside and just focused on making it through the rest of the day, which I could now do in peace because Kyle and his posse weren't here. It was a nice feeling, not having to look over my shoulder for once. I felt at ease as I moved through the rest of my day, a feeling I hadn't known in a long time. I even found myself smiling as I left school that afternoon. I started the long walk home, limping a little as I definitely irritated my ankle when I landed on it the other day. A car honking pulled me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see Trent driving alongside me in his truck.
"Can I drive you home?" I thought for a minute, debating whether to trust him. After the way he acted after the party, and then almost killing Kyle this morning, I was questioning everything about Trent. 'This is what happens to boys who don't listen' kept playing in my head over and over as I stood there staring at Trent. My breathing became short and my heart raced. "Hey, hey, hey it's okay." Trent's voice came from next to me. He had climbed out of the truck and ran to my side as my panic grew. He didn't touch me though, and he didn't get any closer than maybe a foot. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear." His words were soft and gentle, which was always nice compared his usually rugged and raspy edge. I dared to look up to meet his gaze, and in his green eyes I saw concern, and sadness. "Please let me give you a ride," he pleaded. I nodded ever so slightly, and a wide grin spread across his face. I tried to steady my breathing by taking deep breaths as I made my way into the passenger seat of the truck. The smell of nicotine and sandalwood attacking my senses as soon I sat down. My breathing became easier as I took in the sent that was Trent.
When we got to my house, he, of course, followed me inside. I didn't even invite him in, but I also wasn't bothered by him inviting himself in. "W-want a drink?" I asked.
"Just water is fine," he replied as he sat down at the kitchen island. I took two glasses out of the cabinet and filled them with the spout on the refrigerator door. Trent thanked me as I handed him his glass and sat down on the opposite side of the island, this being as close as I would allow him. "How's your ankle? I noticed you were limping again"
"Okay, I think I h-hurt it again when I left your truck F-Friday," I said, cursing myself internally for stuttering. I was really trying not to do it, but I couldn't help myself.
"You should ice it again. Here go sit on the couch and I'll bring you some." I had déjà vu as I got up and limped over to the couch and Trent wrapped some ice in a towel. Like before, he carefully place it on my ankle and then he took a seat on the opposite side of the sectional from me. "Do I scare you?" He asked after a few moments of silence. I took my time answering.
"Yes," I finally replied.
"How come?"
"N-need I remind you of this morning? Or Friday?" I asked. He looked down at his hands in his lap as I spoke.
"I'm sorry about Friday. And today I just, the thought of him hurting you drove me insane. I shouldn't have done what I did, but I would never ever do that to you Grayson."
"H-how do I kn-know that?" I asked, my stutter worsening as the conversation went on.
"I guess you just have to trust me, and I just have to prove it to you."
"But, w-why are you doing a-all of th-this?" I needed an answer, I needed to know what his motives were, what his endgame was. He looked hesitant to speak as we locked eyes from across the sofa, deep in thought, torn about something.
"I'm having these... feelings, for you. I don't know what they mean, but I know that I can't leave you alone because I tried, especially after the party. I started to open up and it terrified me, so I said I was just going to stop talking to you. But I can't leave you alone Gray, I'm drawn to you." My jaw dropped. Was Nat right? "Please say something, please say I didn't just scare you more?"
"I w-wish I could," I said honestly. But I was terrified. He didn't know what trying to start a relationship with me meant, and I don't think I would ever let him, as much as I wanted to. "Please l-leave, Trent." I said quietly. He looked me in the eyes but didn't move.
"Why do you want me to leave?" He finally asked.
"Because you don't know what you're getting yourself into," I replied sternly.
"So, tell me."
"You don't want to know. You wouldn't stick around if you did." My stuttering had stopped, because if there was one thing I was comfortable with, it was pushing people away.
"You're not stuttering anymore," he commented.
"I only stutter when I'm nervous."
"Why?" He asked.
"Please just go," I begged.
"Fine, but I'll be here tomorrow to drive you to school." He got up from the couch, took his bag from the kitchen island, and left, the front door slamming behind him. I got up, throwing the ice in the sink before going up to my room. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the déjà vu feeling returning. My eyes felt heavy as I lay there, and I closed them for the briefest moment.
I was in my childhood bedroom; a voice was yelling from down the stairs for me to put my pajamas on and get ready for bed. I was watching 10-year-old me run around my room, playing with my Legos and action figures. Ships were crashing into each other and Iron Man was shooting at the bad guys. I was a ghost in my past life, helpless to interfere with whatever was going to happen.
"Grayson, you better be putting your pajamas on!" The voice called again, getting closer to my bedroom.
"What are you doing, get them on!" I shouted at my younger self, but he was unphased by my words, oblivious to my presence. A knock at the door drew us both to it. A head poked into the room and I gasped when I saw the face. It was Trent. Stepping into my space themed bedroom and stalking over to me. He began to viciously rip off my clothes while I screamed.
"What are you doing, stop!" Younger me shouted.
"I said to get ready for bed, you didn't listen." He said sternly. "This is what happens to little boys who don't listen."
I was awoken by my own screams and jolted upright in bed. I sat for a moment, looking around the room, making sure I wasn't still dreaming. I noticed the posters on the walls, the record player on the bookshelf, the guitar by the closet door. I breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing that I was just dreaming before. But then, then I broke down into violent sobs, my whole body shaking. No one had come to check on me yet, so I realized I mustn't have been asleep long. I was completely alone, a state I normally liked, but right now I needed someone to bring me back to reality, to get the image of Trent attacking my younger self out of my head. For once my mind had put a face to the man assaulting me. But what did it mean? Why was I imaging him as my attacker?
I couldn't stop thinking about what I had dreamed, I couldn't get my mind out of my childhood room, couldn't stop replaying the scene over and over in my mind. Tears just kept flowing and snapping a rubber band against my wrist was just not helping. I headed to my bathroom and dug around in the drawers for a razor blade. I rolled up my sleeve and looked at my wrist, the stark white scars and red fresh marks staring at me, daring me to create more. And so, I did. Relief flooded over me, reality became clearer, and my tears stopped. I wasn't back in my childhood bedroom, I was in my current bedroom, in the year 2020. Trent didn't attack me when I was 10 years old, someone else did that. I wasn't in danger here. I was alone, completely and utterly alone, just like I would be forever.