Little Battles Read online

  “W-w-what’s w-w-wrong, SSSSSSophie?”

  She hesitated before turning around. Her eyes were glued to the carpet and I wished that she’d just look at me. Maybe I could make her sadness go away.

  She quickly rambled off a long string of words, but I could only catch “Anderson” and “Tom.”

  “W-w-what?”

  “I fucked Chris.”

  A knife plunged into my heart.

  She looked up at me, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

  “W-w-w-w-w-what?” I said again.

  She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, wincing when it got stuck for a moment. “Or he fucked me or whatever, and then Tom was in my room and I—”

  Perhaps it wasn’t what I should have done, but I interrupted her. She’d just said that she’d had sex with Chris. I didn’t want to believe that. I didn’t want to know that.

  “W-w-what d-d-d-do you m-m-mm-mmmean, you f-f-f-f-f…”

  I stopped when she shook her head. The action caused tears to roll down her cheeks. I took a step forward, but she took a step back, and I stopped. Then she held out her hand. “Please stay there,” she demanded softly.

  I planted my feet as my chest tightened. Sophie was acting strange. She was worried and nervous, and quite on edge.

  “W-w-w-what d-d-d-d…” I tried repeating my question, but couldn’t get past the second word, since my mind was preoccupied with all of the thoughts Chris had put in my head over the past few weeks.

  “I don’t fucking know, Elliott. I was drinking and I blacked out or something.” The agitation in her voice and the way she kept fidgeting told me that something was really wrong. Her tears fell quickly, her face nothing but a showcase of pain and shame. “And I’m fucking sorry. I don’t know. I just know…I mean, who the fuck knows? Maybe I—”

  “You w-w-were unc-c-c-conscious?” My mind was reeling. Not only did she indicate that she’d had sex with Chris Anderson, the guy who’d made it his fun-time activity to pick on me since I’d moved to this town, but she was telling me that she’d drunk herself into unconsciousness before it happened.

  If she was unconscious when they had sex, then…

  “I don’t remember. When I…I don’t know how long I was out or whatever, but all I know is that he was…” she let that hang for a moment as she looked down at her feet, squeezing the rock tighter, and I worried that she’d cut herself on it. “He was…on me when I...but shit, with me, you can never tell. Who fucking knows what happened? I’m fucking sorry, Elliott.”

  I didn’t know what to do. I was trying really hard not to hyperventilate, but I was having difficulty getting my mind to do anything slowly. My thoughts came in a rush and were all over the place, and I couldn’t focus. How was it that I could handle Jane’s bloody meltdowns, but now I was on the verge of passing out? I felt like dirt because she was waiting for me to say or do something, but my body was just as frozen as my throat always seemed to be. I had no way of comforting her when she was completely in need of it, and I felt completely inadequate because I couldn’t get a handle on everything going on inside of me.

  I had to focus or I risked getting lost in all of the thousands of thoughts swimming and pushing around in my brain. “A-a-are you o-o-o-okay?” It was all I could think to ask.

  Sophie didn’t respond. Instead she brought her arms up and wrapped them around her torso again. One of her legs was bouncing. She sighed and looked away from me.

  “Sorry about waking you up,” she said. Her voice was not as agitated as before, but still held an edge.

  I took a step toward her, but even though she didn’t step away, she couldn’t stop moving. She unwrapped her arms from around her waist and brought them up to protect her chest, before covering her head, and then bringing them back down to cross over her again. Her leg continued to bounce, moving quicker, her breathing entirely too fast.

  “SSSSSSophie…” I suddenly remembered something else she said. “W-w-what hhhhappened w-with your fffather?” My hope was that he’d caught her with drugs. I didn’t want her to be in trouble but I wanted her to stop, and I was sure Mr. Young could make that happen.

  “He was…” She stopped to breathe, “nothing.” I narrowed my eyes as she quickly looked up at me. Then she began again. “He was…in my room and I didn’t…” She shook her head, clearly becoming agitated. “I mean, it’s my room. Mine. He shouldn’t have…” As she took a sharp intake of breath, I became aware that I was holding mine, which was never a good thing, and was usually followed by a panic attack.

  I focused on breathing. My muscles stiffened and my heart raced.

  “Elliott, don’t.” I watched her, feeling powerless as she shook her head, her eyes widening. “I’m fine, okay? Don’t…don’t panic or anything. I’m…you know, I’m…fine.”

  She came over, her hand already extended. I closed my eyes as she reached up and ran her fingers through my hair, and I breathed deeply, thanking God for being able to breathe at all. My heart rate slowed and I swallowed hard. After a few moments, it was better.

  Now she was close to me.

  I reached out and encircled her fisted hand. “W-w-what hhhhappened?”

  She shook and I inched just a little closer.

  “He was in my room and…and it just…scared me.”

  “B-b-but you’re o-okay?”

  Sophie sighed and her hand fell away from my hair. Then she went back to wrapping her arm around herself again. “Yeah. I mean, apart from having fucked Anderson.”

  The knife was back, twisting agonizingly slowly into my heart.

  She shook her head and stepped around me. “I’m…I’ll be right back.” She unlocked the door and opened it, then disappeared across the hall and into the bathroom.

  If I had ever hated Anderson before, the emotion paled in comparison to the hatred I felt for him now. She was gone a long time and I sat down on my bed, waiting for her. I figured that she would like to have some normalcy. I would sit on my bed, and she would sit on the couch, the way we had that first Friday night and every one following.

  When Sophie came back, her eyes were glazed and I wished that I had taken the pills out of the cabinet when I had thought about it Friday night. I would have to move them today.

  I hated taking all of those pills and sometimes I only took half of what was prescribed, but both David and Jane took theirs religiously.

  It was obvious that she was high. Just moments ago, she hadn’t wanted me to touch her or be close at all until my near panic attack, so it was a dead giveaway when she crawled onto the bed and up to me. As she knelt there, she picked at the sleeve of my t-shirt. She was breathing slowly, and her eyes were so weary and distant.

  “You llllook t-tired.”

  She shook her head.

  “You sssshould ssssleep, SSSophie. I w-w-won’t…” I was going to tell her that I wouldn’t touch her, but the thought of touching her, regardless of what she’d been through just a few hours ago, made me tense and anxious.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be in my bed.

  “J-Jaaane w-w-w…

  “No! I don’t want to be with her. Can’t you just stay with me?” She looked away. “I mean, just for a little while? I didn’t mean…”

  I nodded quickly, wanting to assure her that I wouldn’t just abandon her, but she needed to sleep and I wasn’t sure if that would happen if she stayed here. “You sssshould ssleep.”

  She slid her hands from my sleeve, and down to my hand. I was really upset at myself that she was in this state. Her episode with Chris had obviously been traumatic, and seeing her father in her room certainly didn’t help the situation.

  “I-I’m sssorry I d-didn’t go.”

  “Go where?” she asked, her voice dripping fatigue.

  “T-to the p-party.”


  “Mmm, s’okay.”

  How could she think it was okay? If I had been there Chris might have punched me in the gut, but he wouldn’t have done that to her. “I-it’s n-not o-o-okay, SSSSophie. A-at b-best he t-took advantage of you. A-at w-w-worst, he r-r-r-rrrraped you.” The use of that word made my head pound, but I pushed the dull ache aside when she jerked away from me again.

  “Please don’t be dramatic, Elliott.” While she tried to make her voice sound casual, I could still detect the controlled panic. “I went to the party. I drank. I screwed up and who the hell knows? Maybe I propositioned Anderson. I can’t remember.”

  “B-But w-why aren’t you…”

  Her eyes flashed for a moment, and then she leveled me with a glare, driving out any thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was hard. “Because guys fuck me, Elliott. It’s…”

  My jaw clenched and I threaded my fingers tightly together. “I-It’s w-what?”

  “It’s what I’m for,” she said with a sigh.

  My heart nearly stopped, this time not from rising panic, but from being absolutely terrified that she really thought of herself that way.

  “You c-c-can’t b-believe that.” I honestly hoped she didn’t. That was a horrible thing to believe.

  She scrubbed her eyes roughly with the heels of her hands, and I could see how tired she really was. “Whatever,” she said and moved as if she was going to get off the bed, but I gently stilled her by taking her hand again.

  She was not going to like what I was going to say. “Mm-m-maybe you sssshould sstop getting h-high.”

  Again, her voice held an edge that I could just barely discern over her fatigue. “I wasn’t high.” I knew she was lying because she looked away from me at the precise moment she said “wasn’t.” “I had a couple of drinks, Elliott.” She rested her head against my shoulder for just a moment, and after taking a deep breath, she pulled away and smiled at me.

  I didn’t know how she could do that. How could she smile now? How could we be talking about what I considered a sexual assault and abusing drugs, and then she just pushes it to the side, compartmentalizing it and smiling as though we hadn’t even opened our mouths about it?

  “Let’s get coffee.”

  I was confused as I studied her. “B-but you ssshould sssleep.”

  Shaking her head, she got off the bed and stood up, stretching. “No, I’m good.”

  I tried to convince her, but I could tell that she was over it. We went to the kitchen where the coffee was already brewed and sat at the island. She picked at the toast I’d made for her and ignored Robin, who sat at the kitchen table reading a newspaper.

  Jane was shocked, but seemed delighted that Sophie was here so early. After eating some cereal, she commandeered Sophie and they disappeared upstairs.

  I wondered what Robin knew about the situation. If she had intervened and stopped Sophie from doing all of the drugs, this wouldn’t have happened. I knew that Robin wanted to get to the root of it all, but you couldn’t just let someone flounder and drown in a sea of intoxication. Did she know the extent of Sophie’s drug use? Perhaps she thought Sophie just smoked marijuana. I wanted to say something, to tell her that it was so much more than that, but if I did, it would be a betrayal of Sophie’s trust and I wanted nothing to do with hurting her like that.

  Without looking up from her paper, Robin said, “It’ll be addressed, Elliott. Please stop looking at me like I’m Hitler.”

  Jane kept Sophie busy for most of the day and Robin left for a while, returning with clothes for her. She would stay the night with Jane. Sophie and Robin were in Stephen’s study for nearly two hours before I was able to be with her. I took the time away to do homework and play a little guitar, and more importantly, move the medication from our bathroom and into the kitchen’s vitamin drawer.

  When she was back with me, I played guitar for her as she tried not to fall asleep on my couch until she finally got up to go to Jane’s room.

  It was a little past midnight when I heard a small tapping on my door. I tensed momentarily before I pulled on a t-shirt and opened the door, instantly smiling when I saw her. Then I realized she looked agitated again, and so very, very tired.

  “Jane doesn’t lock her door,” she said quietly.

  I blinked and then moved to the side, allowing her access. She came in, nervously tugging on one of her earlobes. She was wearing incredibly baggy sweatpants with a few well-worn holes, and a black hoodie, zipped halfway up. Underneath was the Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt I’d seen before.

  As I was about to close my door, she stepped close and blocked me. Very slowly, as if she were barely moving, she leaned into me and pressed her face against my chest. If I hadn’t felt the chemical exchange that passed between our bodies, I would have thought it was a dream.

  Sophie’s shoulders came up as if she were shrugging, before she rolled them back and exhaled. I breathed her in, oddly soothed by the fact that she and I were breathing the same air. I put my hands to her arms, starting on her soft, rounded shoulders and slowly sliding them down her arms, over her elbows, and coming to rest at her wrists. I would have grabbed her hands, but that would mean bending over and I didn’t want to risk the action pushing her away from me.

  I breathed her in several times more before she let out a ragged breath and moved away. As she pulled out of my loose hold, her hands slid over my palms, the knuckles sending shivers through my body. Before her touch was completely lost to me, she hooked her left pinkie finger with the index finger of my right, and gave it a gentle tug.

  I closed my door, making sure that it was locked as securely as it could be, and then turned back to Sophie. She was facing away from me.

  “I don’t want to keep you from sleeping, you know, with school and shit tomorrow, but…is it okay if I sleep in here?”

  Apart from my normal stutter, there was no hesitation. “Y-y-yes.”

  “In your bed?”

  “Y-y-yes.”

  Her voice shook when she said, “Will you sleep with me?”

  My breath caught and I swallowed, my mouth suddenly going dry at the thought of lying in my bed with her. I pressed my lips together as the crease in my brow deepened.

  She looked at me and tugged on my finger.

  I nodded, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to get out the three-letter word of acceptance, and watched as she crawled onto my bed, sitting up next to the pillows and drawing her legs up to her chest. She pushed just her toes underneath the covers and chewed on the inside of her cheek as I hesitated. I couldn’t move, no matter how hard I mentally kicked myself. It was possibly a full minute before Sophie asked, “Do you sleep standing up?” I shook my head. I was being absurd. “I didn’t think so.” She looked away. “I’ll sleep on the couch if you want.”

  “N-n-no,” I said, finally forcing my body to comply. I sat down on the bed and then swung my legs up. I was under the covers quickly, just observing as she chewed on her cheek. She made no move to lie down. “D-d-do you sssleep ssssitting up?”

  Sophie turned to me, finally releasing her cheek as she smiled. “No.”

  I shook my head. “I d-didn’t think sssso.”

  She slid down next to me on her side, not touching me, her head pillowed on her bent arm. “You’re funny, you know?”

  Again, I shook my head.

  “No, you are. You’re really witty. It’s too bad more people don’t know that about you.”

  All I could do was shake my head because it was definitely better more people didn’t know that about me. I wasn’t typically witty. It was an anomaly when I was with her.

  “I c-c-can’t believe you’re ssstill up.”

  “Yeah, well, I can be amazingly stubborn when I want to be, and I learned a long time ago that humans don’t need as much sleep as we think we do. The brain can t
ake little thirty second naps to do what it needs to, and technically you’re sleeping and yet still awake.”

  “W-why don’t you w-want to sleep?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep. I just don’t need to.”

  She wasn’t being truthful. “I don’t like sssleeping b-because of my dreams,” I offered.

  Sophie closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered, and then was silent.

  I had thought that she’d fallen asleep, until I felt her press herself against me. It was hard not to react to the contact since she was like a zillion tiny beams of light that pierced and penetrated my flesh through the fabric of my shirt, and even through my skin. Her hands were in my hair and she rose up onto her elbow, bending her neck so that her face was achingly close to mine. Then she brushed her soft lips over my cheek as she threaded her fingers through my hair. The velvety flesh trailed down to my jaw and over to my lips and there was no way I could stop myself from kissing her back.

  Even though I couldn’t get enough air and my heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to explode, I continued kissing her back because it felt so good. She smelled like Sophie again, and the scent calmed me, even if just a little bit. She moved one of her hands to my chest, her palm flat against my sternum, fingers spread. The heat of her touch soaked through my body, warming my heart.

  The covers rustled and heat washed over me again, this time away from my heart and more toward my groin. She was lying on me, her face close, kissing me, and she never stopped running her hands through my hair.

  As much as I wished that I was a normal teenage guy, I fought back the panic that bubbled up. Instead, I focused on my breathing, but the feel of her on top of me shut my brain down to the point where all I could feel was her.