Chapter 58 Bruises.

Chapter 58 Bruises.
Laramie:

I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee.

For a split-second, in that blissful moment between being fully asleep and waking up completely, I was happy and everything was perfect. I had completely forgotten about the events of the evening before.

I yawned, stretched my arms out in front of me, and extended my toes so that I could stretch my legs as well.

And that's when it all came rushing back to me like a tidal wave breaking over some unsuspecting liitle boat in the middle of the ocean.

I felt the incredible aching in my limbs and caught sight of the ugly red-ish purple bruise, in the shape of Ethan's fingers, around my wrist.

"Morning, kiddo. Sleep okay?"

My dad's chipper voice cut through my brain like a hot knife. I yanked my arms back and shoved them under the blankets. Then, I thought about Ethan's other hand being wrapped around my throat as he choked me and the blood in my veins ran cold. If my wrist was bruised, I was more than willing to believe that my throat would be too.

"Ye... yeah... tha... thanks. You?"

I stammered stupidly as I tried to cover my throat as best I could using my hair. I risked a glance in my father's direction - luckily he was busy cooking breakfast and wasn't paying much attention to me at all.

"Like a baby. Hungry?"

I wasn't. Honestly, it felt like I was going to be sick.

"Starving."

I lied... again.

"Good, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. The water is warm if you feel like taking a quick shower."

It felt like a light suddenly went on in my head.

"That sounds perfect, actually. It's a little chilly outside. Would you mind if I borrowed a jersy from you? I'll bring it back later today."

He still had his back turned to me, focused on the pan of fried eggs in front of him.

"Sure thing, kiddo. Help yourself."

I jumped off the couch and rushed past him as quickly as my feet could carry me - scared out of my mind that he'd turn around and notice something that I had no way of explaining to him. I grabbed a turtle-neck from his closet and shot into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me too loudly.

I checked my reflection in front of the mirror and there they were - clear as day, the truth i didn't want to face taunting me - Ethan's fingers around my throat, the purple fading into my skin like a hideous necklace. The marks were small, almost delicate, but they burned like a confession - a perfect imprint of his loss of control.

I traced the outline in the mirror, half expecting it to hurt more than it did. It wasn't pain, it was disbelief. The bruise would fade, I told myself. But the memory behind it - I wasn't sure that it would ever go away. The bruise was small, insignificant, but to me, it was enormous. Proof that something between us had changed forever.

Tears began to roll down my cheeks again, but I swiped them away angrily - I was done crying about it. Ethan didn't deserve my tears, not after what he did to me, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking because of it.

After taking a quick shower, I pulled on my dad's turtle-neck and made sure that the bruises weren't showing. My eyes looked sad and empty in the mirror, but I ignored them along with the pain in my chest and the twisting in my guts.

Pretending that what Ethan did didn't hurt was going to be a lot more difficult than I thought, but I was determined.

I found my dad sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper, and sipping his coffee. I smiled in spite of myself.

"You're probably the only person I know that still actually reads the paper."

He peered up over the top of the paper in his hands, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I like the way it smells - ink on paper. Something that you can't get from a tablet or a phone."

"You're such a dork."

I teased as I sat down opposite him, taking a sip of my own coffee. The warm liquid slid down my throat and settled deliciously in my empty stomach, filling me with a comforting sensation. I closed my eyes and smiled to myself.

"I like to think of myself as unique, thank you very much."

He shrugged, put the paper aside and started eating. I did the same - we finished our food in silence. After, my dad sat back and sighed heavily. I looked up at him and arched my brow at him - I could tell that he had something on his mind, something that he wasn't looking forward to bringing up.

"What is it?"

He shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look, kiddo. I know that you're going through something right now, and I hate to bring it up. But have you given any more thought to the situation with your mother?"

I half expected myself to feel angry, annoyed, irritated even, but I felt odly numb to the whole thing. Maybe the thing with Ethan made everything else in my life seem small and unimportant.

"I have."

"And?"

He sounded a little cautious.

"Look, dad. I can't tell you what to do or hgow to feel, and if you want to have a relationship with her again - open yourself up to all of that hurt and pain again, then there's nothing I can do about it. But I don't want anything to do with her... sorry."

He didn't say anything. He just looked at me, his expression unreadable.

So, I continued.

"What she did almost destroyed me. It took me forever to get over that, and I'm finally in a good place."

Or, at least, I was.

I pushed the intrusive thought aside.

"I just don't want to go through all of that again. I don't trust her not to hurt me again."

He watched me silently for a moment, then he smiled - not the reaction I was expecting at all.

"If that's the way you feel, kiddo. I'll respect it. And so will your mother."

"Really?"

I arched both my brows.

"Yes, really. Neither one of us want to force you into something that you're not comfortable with."

"Thanks, dad."

I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice and my dad chuckled softly.

"All we want is your happiness, kiddo. Even if it doesn't always seem that way."

"It doesn't." I checked my watch and shot to my feet. "I've got to go. Thanks for letting me crash here."

I hurried around the table, gave him a quick kiss goodbye and turned to leave.

"Anytime."

I still couldn't believe that he was being so understanding about my feelings toward my mother - something didn't feel right, something else was going on with them. But I had no room nor any desire to figure it out.