We don’t talk during the rest of lunch. He finishes his sandwich, and stands. “Come over tomorrow after school. Got some shit you might like to see.”
He walks away, and I can’t help but wonder if I really just made a friend.
***
I stare at the object in my hands with wide eyes in complete awe.
Nik says through a smile, “You like that, huh? Pops gave it to me last year. It came from Russia.”
It’s a .45 caliber pistol. I lift it, hold it up and point it out the window. Nik snatches it from my hands, waving the gun in the air and says, “My dad says never to aim at something you don’t intend to kill.”
I need to figure out how to steal this gun.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I ask, “You ever used it?”
Nik nods his head then hands me a bag. I take it but don’t open it. It’s soft. I’m guessing it’s clothes. “If something doesn’t fit, just throw it away.”
I wonder why this guy has my back.
Regardless of how hesitant I am, something tells me to stick around and find out.
***
I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but I can’t stop watching Nik’s dad. I think I’m waiting for the ball to drop.
Why did Nik get a dad like this and I got mine?
The funny thing is Ilia (weird name - it sounds like Ee-lee-yah) watches me just as closely. It’s like he can see inside me. See what I’ve been through. My heart races as I sit at the dinner table in between Nik and his brother, Max. Max is okay. He’s annoying, but in a lot of ways, he’s like Nik. They really don’t give a shit where I came from.
I’m surrounded by a loud, happy family. And it sucks. Reminds me of what I don’t have.
Nik’s mom looks at me through saddened eyes and I want to leave. I don’t want to be a charity case.
“Thank you for dinner, but I need to get home.” I stand and make to leave.
No one says a word. I can see Nik’s mom is disappointed. Ilia stands and says in a thick accent, “Come. I’ll walk you out.”
Keeping my head down, I don’t say goodnight to anyone. Ilia puts a hand on my shoulder and I want to burst into tears. When he closes the front door behind us, he motions to the front steps and I sit. He says, “You ever need any help, son, for anything at all. You call Niki and he’ll tell me. I’ll take care of it.”
Stunned, I look up at him and he states, “Bruises on your arm there, they look just like a grown man’s handprint. Now, I’m not saying that I saw what I saw but scars are not easy to hide.”
Leaning back he whispers, “No man should ever lay a hand on a child. Children are innocent. They deserve better. If you ever feel like you’re unsafe, you come here. If I find out through Niki that you came to school with bruises, I’ll go see your parents myself and I can’t promise I’ll be nice.”
I want to ask why he’s offering this but I change my mind. A bed in a safe house with warmth and food, I’d be stupid to pass that up. I tell myself it has nothing to do with the fact that I like Nik and Max. Looking up at him, I nod in agreement. He smacks my shoulder in a fatherly way and I stand to leave.
Walking away from Ilia, I turn halfway down the drive and tell him, “I hate him. I wish he was dead. Some nights, I wish I was too.”
Ilia’s face softens. I don’t wait for a response.
I walk home to whatever kind of hell waits for me.
***
Sixteen years old. Later that year…
I pack whatever I can fit into the gym bag.
Cannibal Corpse blasts ‘Hammer Smashed Face’ from the cassette player, and I imagine doing every single thing this song says to my father.
I’ve been sleeping at Nik’s place. A lot. Truth is, I don’t want to be here anymore, not even to protect my mom, so I’m packing a bag and leaving right now. The other week I came over pretty late and when Cecelia, Nik’s mom, saw my bruised face, she cried for me and hugged me tight. It felt nice to have someone care. Ilia took me aside and ordered, “You will pack whatever you can and come back here. I will not send you back to your death.”
I argued that my father wouldn’t allow it but he said, “Leave him to me.”
I got a sick sense of satisfaction knowing my father would likely have his ass handed to him.
As I run out into the hallway, my mother stands there. When she sees the bag in my hand, she crumbles. I yell at her, “Don’t even, Ma. Don’t you fucking cry. Run! Just fucking leave. He’s going to kill us if we don’t.”
Looking up at the bruises on my face, she whispers, “Nothin’ more than I deserve, Ashy.”
With one last look at her, I turn and swear to never come back to this place.
As soon as I step out of the property line, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I’m going home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shit hits the fan
Sitting up in bed, Ash rests his head on my stomach with his arms tightly wrapped around me. He squeezes me in his sleep while I run my fingers through his hair. I listen to his deep breathing. My only form of comfort right now is knowing he’s sleeping soundly without nightmares of the abuse he suffered as a child.
My heart is heavy.
I’m feeling helpless and withdrawn. I never feel like this. The last time I felt like this was when Mia died. Tina’s daughter was a huge part of my life. I was her aunt, and it affected me as much as it did Tina. I loved that little girl with all my heart.
Cursing myself, I lean my head back on the headboard with a soft thump.
I wanted to know what happened to him. I was the one who pushed. He told me it was fucked up, and I pushed and pushed til he had no choice but to tell me. And now I wish I didn’t know.
So now I sit here, tears streaming down my face in devastation for what this beautiful man endured as a child. I will never forget what I was told tonight. It was as if he zoned out. Like he wasn’t even in the room with me. It seemed like he spoke for hours, when in reality all it took was about a half hour for me to get the general idea of how his life was before he met Nik.
Next time I see Nik, I’ll be lucky if I don’t burst into tears. I knew I liked Nik before, but now…now I am grateful for him.
Burnt. Cut. Bruised. Choked. Hit.
He was just a fucking baby.
All I want to do is find his parents and punish them. He told me his father died quite a few years back and to take pity on his mother, he said, “Mom never hurt me, but she never helped me, so I guess she did hurt me regardless, but she was weak. Weak physically and weak in character. Whatever dad said, she went along with. Didn’t have it in her to fight. She’s not like me.”
If Ash is anything, he’s a fighter alright.
He had a broken arm for three days before they took him to the hospital. It was infected so bad that the doctors thought he might lose it. Trying to downplay it, he told me he didn’t remember much of it. But I don’t care. Given the chance, I’d hurt them as badly as they hurt him.