In Control (The City Series) (13 page)

I lifted my shirt and squinted, looking for any signs that Mr. Henderson had been there. For the first time in a long time, my skin was unmarked, but I still felt his hands all over me. I pressed the blade across my stomach. It stung, but my movement was too weak to cause any damage. I winced, this time putting more pressure on the blade. My reflection wore a smile, but inside I felt like I was dying. Blood stained the top of my shorts. I covered the small cut with my hand, dropping the scissors on the ground. When I lifted my hand off of the wound, my palm was stained with blood, but the cut was no longer bleeding. With a spare t-shirt I found in one of the boxes marked
Goodwill
, I pressed it onto the cut.

The children were running across the living room floor above me, and I could hear them yelling, “Tag! You’re it!” I wondered the Hendersons would treat any of the other kids like scum if they had my skin color. I didn’t know if it actually was my skin color that caused so much hatred or if it was just the fact that I was the weakest. The other kids were outgoing, outspoken, blinded. They didn’t see how awful the Hendersons really were, or maybe they did and they chose not to confess.

I sat on the ground, keeping the shirt pressed firmly against the cut. Just an hour ago, I was with Porter Henning, having the time of my life. We walked, side by side, not touching, though all I wanted was to hold his hand. He bumped by shoulder a few times when he’d made a joke and wanted to hear me laugh. I think he knew that every time he touched me, my body would erupt into a fit of laughter.

When I went to sleep, I tried my hardest at banishing the dark thoughts of Mr. Henderson from my mind. Instead, I thought about the way Porter’s arms wrapped around my shoulders. I thought of Porter’s smile, and how every time he looked at me, it felt like I was taking in a breath of fresh air.

I closed my eyes, not clutching at the sheet around my body or fixating on every creak of the floor. I was able to fall asleep peacefully, without any hesitation.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Porter?” I shrieked, clutching the blanket to my naked body.

“I have to say, Kingsley, I didn’t think you could get any hotter.” Porter’s eyes gleamed with malice and it made me wonder if he really was the boy I had once loved or if he was some evil doppelgänger.

“
This
is Porter?” Wren looked from me to Porter, realization finally setting in.

“You must be Wren. Nice tattoos,” Porter said with an unenthused smirk on his face.

“Get out of here!” I demanded.

My heart was racing. A thin sheen of sweat formed on my forehead, but I refused to wipe it away. Porter knew things about me that no one else did. He knew secrets behind my facial expressions, nervous ticks and what they all meant. If he saw me wipe my forehead, he’d know his presence was affecting me.

“Kingsley,” Porter frowned, “you act like you’re not happy to see me.”

“Get the fuck out of here, asshole!” Wren shouted. He tried standing up, but I gripped onto his hand, forcing him to stay where he was.

“Hmm...this is a weird predicament.” Porter’s index finger tapped at his lips. “See, you’re both naked, meaning I have the upper hand.”

“You disgust me,” I choked.

Having Porter standing three feet away made every bone in my body feel like it was splintering. I wanted to rip out his heart, curse his existence, and make him feel like he was nothing in this world. Like he had done to me.

“You don’t mean that, Cherry Berry.”

He scrutinized my face, waiting for me to collapse. It felt like I’d just been hit in the stomach with a fastball so powerful that I couldn’t help but feel it in every part of my body. My spine ached. My ribs broke. My heart stopped beating. With one single nickname, I was totaled. And Porter knew it.

When Porter and I first started dating, he’d quickly become aware of the fact that I hadn’t experienced many things. “I want to show you the world,” is what he had said.

Almost every day, he’d take me somewhere new. We’d eat mini-glazed doughnuts, burritos more expensive than a week’s worth of groceries, and pizzas so big they could feed a family of five. One day, he took me on a trip all the way to DC. We arrived in front of a small cupcake shop and he told me that they had some of the most unique flavors around. Neither of us had ever been there, so when we walked in and were greeted by cases of different flavored cupcakes, we both held the same animated expression.

I had the hardest time choosing just one, but after ten minutes of deliberation, I chose the Cherry Blossom cupcake. It was filled with cherries and topped with a vanilla buttercream frosting so incredible that my taste buds were never be the same. I ate it slowly, savoring each bite like it was the last time I’d ever eat. Several minutes passed, and I held back every urge to stuff the rest of the cake in my mouth. Porter had finished his bubblegum cupcake almost immediately and sat patiently as I ate mine.

“I’m going to assume by the huge grin on your face that you love it?” he’d asked, breaking into a smile.

“Love isn’t even a good enough word. I want to marry this cupcake.” I took a tiny lick of the frosting, tempted to ask if I could take the half I hadn’t eaten home. Then I’d have something to look forward to after I left him.

“Cherry Berry,” he beamed.

“What?” I asked, giggling right along with him.

“That’s going to be your new nickname. Cherry Berry. Because I’ve never seen you look as happy as you do right now.”

Porter’s eyes moved across my bare shoulders, down to my legs, and back up to my hands that were clutching tightly at the blanket. He looked into my eyes and for a split-second, I saw the boy I fell in love with.

“I was hesitant when my aunt asked me if I wanted to visit her this summer, but now, seeing you here, Kingsley, I’m so glad I said yes. I guess this means we’ll be spending some time together, huh?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow, anticipating my answer.

“In your dreams.” My words were strained. I was too upset to say more. To speak confidently. Too surprised to see Porter standing right in front of me after four years of absence. I wanted to cut his heart out, but at the same time beg him to tell me why he did what he did.

Porter nodded. “You’ve been the star in many of those over the years, Cherry Berry.”

“Stop calling me that!” I shrieked.

Wren wordlessly looked from me to Porter, the tension on his face clear as day.

“I should let you two get dressed. It’s getting a bit chilly out here.” Porter smirked one last time before turning and walking away.

I watched his figure disappear down the beach before throwing on my clothing. Wren quietly did the same.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled after the silence was too much to bear.

“He seems like a lunatic.” Wren looked down the beach where Porter had disappeared before turning to look at me.

“Listen, we’re still going to have a great time. Porter doesn’t matter.”

“I could be both blind and deaf and still feel the tension between you two,” Wren said with an edge to his voice. He knelt down to pick up the blanket and began folding it carelessly.

“Stop,” I said, grabbing onto his wrists. “There’s nothing you have to worry about. I came here with you, and I’ll be leaving with you.” I gave him a smile, trying my best to reassure him.

“I’m not worried about you leaving me for him. I’m worried about you. He’s done something to you and I know this because you only stopped shaking the moment he left. I’m going to find out what happened and if it’s what I’m assuming, I’m going to kill him,” Wren threatened.

“Don’t say that,” I said, dropping my arms. “It’s complicated and it’s not something I ever want to talk about.”

“Of course not. Why would you want to open up about something from your past?” he asked sarcastically.

“Always back to that.”

“It is our biggest issue, Kingsley,” Wren said, placing the blanket under his arm.

“Can we just go to your parents’ house and have a good time? Forget about what just happened?” I asked.

“Sure, why not,” Wren answered, unenthused.

Besides the chirping sounds coming from the crickets, the walk up to Wren’s house was a quiet one. Two more cars had arrived in the time we’d been on the beach. My nerves kicked into overdrive just knowing that Wren’s parents were right inside, waiting to condemn me.

“Good, my parents are here.”

“This wasn’t a good idea.” I started backing away from him. With every step I took, I became calmer. “I’m not the kind of girl parents like.”

“Get back here,” he ordered. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. “I know you’re nervous, and I know that we have some...kinks to work out, but I’ve met an outrageously special girl and I’m dying for my parents to meet her.” He cupped my face with both hands and kissed my forehead. “So get your ass inside or I’ll carry you.”

After a quick one finger salute, I followed Wren inside.

Three days had passed since I last saw Porter. 72 hours spent doing the same routine all while consumed with thoughts of when I’d get to see him again. Waking up:
I wonder if he’s still sleeping.
Taking a shower:
I wonder what kind of shampoo Porter uses.
Eating the flavorless food set out for me:
I wonder what delicious pastry Porter is enjoying right now.
Everything I did steered back to him.

Mrs. Hall asked me yesterday if I could come over and help with her laundry. I’d never done laundry before, since that was Tommy’s job, but I jumped at the chance of doing something other than watching the hours pass by. As I got dressed, I thought of what Porter was wearing that day.

The kitchen was empty, which surprised me since it was typically the time the Hendersons ate breakfast. I’d never been the first one there, so I wasn’t sure if I should get my own bowl of oatmeal. I stayed in the doorway, trying to decide if making my own food would get me into trouble. I didn’t hear any other sounds around me, so I walked to the cabinet and grabbed a bowl. The pantry was just to the left of it, and I reached in and grabbed the steel cut oats.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Henderson’s sharp tone cut through the silence like a chainsaw.

Hearing her voice caused me to drop the box, midway through pouring the oats, in fear. It landed onto the floor, the contents spilling everywhere.

“I’m so sorry!” I cried, quickly dropping down to scoop the remnants into my hands.

“Get up,” she fumed.

I stood, still holding the oats in both hands. “I’m so sor—”

“Shut up!” Mrs. Henderson raced toward me and pushed my body into the refrigerator. “You stupid little girl! Who do you think you are coming into
my
kitchen and treating yourself?”

The handle to the refrigerator dug into my back, but I tried concentrating on anything else. Mrs. Henderson’s face was red and each of her hands were holding tightly onto my wrists.

“Answer me!” she ordered.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“
You’re sorry. You’re so sorry!
” she mocked. “I asked you a question, little girl. Answer it.”

“I thought you and Mr. Henderson were still asleep. I was hungry and I didn’t want to bother you.” My body was already trembling.

Mrs. Henderson’s lips perked up into an evil grin. Her eyes followed the length of my body before stopping on my face. “My precious boy isn’t here to save you this time.” She grabbed onto my throat and as she spoke, her grip tightened. “We keep you around because the older you get, the more money
we
get to
care
for you, but just know that as soon as you’re eighteen, your time is up in this house.” With one last menacing look, she released me.

Air was finally able to escape and I bent down, trying to stifle my coughing.

“Get out of my kitchen. You won’t be eating today.”

As soon as I heard her footsteps climb the stairs, I allowed the tears I’d been holding back to pour down my face. My appetite had disappeared, though I knew it would come back soon and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. My throat was burning and the skin around each of my wrists was a bright pink. My heavy breathing became more active with each second that passed. I knew I had to move, I had to get out of the house, but my body felt like it was glued to the fridge.