All of Me Read online

  There’s nothing wrong. You’re overreacting like always, I thought to myself.

  The closer we got to the house, the clearer the music and voices became. My pulse spiked as my stomach rolled. I had a bad feeling about this.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Is my lip gloss still on?” Bea asked Bonita who pouted her own lips before answering.

  “Yeah, you look hot.” They bumped hips. Morgan knocked on the door again before pulling down her dress. The action was pointless since every step she took allowed us all to get a view of her white thong.

  “You're hot too, Bonita.” I would have rolled my eyes, only I was too focused on the door and praying that no one answered Morgan’s insistent knocks.

  “Maybe we should just go,” I said, just as the door opened. The scent of something stronger than cigarette smoke seeped from the open door. A guy much older than us leered at Morgan and her friends. His eyes skimmed over me with disinterest. Cracking his tattooed knuckles, he opened the door wider. His three-quarter length shirtsleeves showcased his tattooed arms. Some tribal ink rose from the collar of his red and white checkered shirt on his neck and disappeared into his brown hair, which was cropped close to his head. A scar that ran along the left side of his skull was stark against the dark skin of his head.

  “Come in ladies,” As each girl passed, he checked out their rears and smirked. As I passed by him, I quickly glanced at him before looking away. I curled my shoulders in, hoping it would discourage his wandering eyes. The hall floor was concrete except for a few threadbare rugs strewn around the place; no smiling family filled the empty crooked picture frame that hung over the radiator. A light flickered overhead as we entered the kitchen, where most the party-goers were. Sweat made a path down my back. The small room was crammed. I huddled behind the others, and for the hundredth time, I wished I had said no. This wasn’t the usual type of party Morgan usually attended.

  “Morgan!” A guy shouted excitedly while jumping up off his chair. He nearly toppled a girl to the ground. She stood out from the rest because of the pink stripes in her hair. He embraced Morgan, his hand groping her behind at the same time. Bea and Bonita got called over by two guys who lounged at a small yellow table. Two ashtrays filled to the brim held burning cigarettes. Too many cans and glasses littered the table. Both guys wore black woolly hats, which gave their eyes a hooded and dangerous look. As I quickly glanced around the room, all the boys looked the same: tattoos, dark skin, baggy jeans; they all watched us now.

  “Kieran, take your hands off my ass,” Morgan spoke to the guy who was still hugging her. His blond hair and sun-kissed skin looked so out of place with all the other guys. I really felt like I had stepped into the wrong house. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guy who had let us in the front door take something out of his pocket and slip it to another guy's hand. My stomach dropped to my feet as the guy from the door latched his eyes onto mine. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. My reaction was what broke the stare; he looked away, moving onto the next guy and passing him a small bag of powder.

  “Hi, I’m Kieran.” I blinked at the hand that was held out to me, I took it and followed it to its owner’s light blue eyes.

  “You want a drink?” he asked still holding my hand. I shook my head, taking my hand back before glancing around at everyone else; they all fell into place with someone. The music was a low hum that made all conversations unintelligible.

  “Everyone here is really nice,” Kieran said to me. He held up his hands, and a grin spread across his face. “Don’t judge until you get to know me,” Kieran’s lips twitched into a full smile. I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, but he was the safest bet. It wasn’t his appearance that made me think he was the safe bet, it was how he made me feel. I didn’t feel unsafe. Okay, everyone else looked like they were from the ghetto and I was pretty sure everyone was high, whereas Kieran seemed to be just slightly drunk. The girl with the pink stripes in her hair kept watching us. I think it was Mindy, the one the girls spoke about in the car. Kieran talked and didn’t seem to mind having a one-sided conversation. I nodded but kept my eyes on the girls. A few times the guy who had let us in caught my eye; his stare was unsettling. I swallowed, but my dry throat couldn’t take much more.

  “Could you get me a glass of water?” I asked Kieran. His eyes lit up with surprise. “You talk?”

  I forced a smile. “Yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically before getting me a glass of water. I forced myself to loosen my death grip on my handbag by slinging it over my shoulder. I tried to appear more relaxed.

  Kieran returned smiling while holding my glass of water. I examined it before taking a deep drink, the glass was empty when I returned for air.

  “Do you want another one?” Kieran’s brows knitted together.

  “Yeah, please. My throat is parched,” I explained lamely. When he returned this time, I took it slowly, my eyes skimming over the brown kitchen and empty worktops.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” Kieran said to me. He caught me off guard, and I choked, spewing some of my water on him.

  “Oh God, I’m so, so sorry,” I started dabbing it with my hand.

  “It’s fine,” Kieran smiled. “You don’t take compliments well?” My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, making me stop what I was doing.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I complimented your eyes, and you spat on me,” his grin grew slowly. I dropped my hands and tried to calm down my beating heart. I was coming across like a nut job.

  “Thank you, Kieran.” I finally said, and his grin broke into a smile.

  “You’re welcome… You never told me your name," When he said it, I realized I hadn’t.

  “Layla," I replied.

  “What a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl,” he took my sweaty hand and kissed it. He didn’t pause or show that my hand was sweating buckets. My throat closed at his kindness.

  “Is there a bathroom here?” I asked, knowing I needed a minute alone.

  Kieran told me the bathroom was upstairs, the first door straight ahead. He even kindly offered to accompany me, but I declined. Before I left the kitchen, I looked for Morgan. She was very… occupied.

  The hallway was empty. As I went down the hall to get to the staircase, I noticed a door to my right that I hadn’t seen when we first came in. I heard voices in the room, and one in particular tickled at my memory. I passed quickly and walked quietly but briskly up the stairs. The bathroom was old and simple but was surprisingly clean. I did my business quickly before washing my hands. I meet four sets of wide blue eyes that looked afraid. The crack ran in a zig-zag down the whole mirror. What had caused the crack, a smash with a fist? Maybe something else.

  The cut-off screech of a female had me freezing. I listened, but there was only silence. I took a tiny step towards the door, paused and listened again. I could hear someone whisper. I stared at the door unable to move.

  Pull it together Layla, I thought.

  I opened the door to a scene that had my body going still, but my mind went straight into reverse, to a twelve-year-old Layla.

  I took tiny baby steps clutching the pink basin in my hands. The sudsy water splashed from side to side, threating to spill over. When I reached Bert, I felt proud I hadn’t spilled a drop. Placing the basin to my left, I took the towel off my shoulder and spread it between Bert’s feet. His laces were always covered in dust and dirt from his workday on construction. Pulling off his large size twelve boots nearly sent me falling back, but I kept my balance. I took off his sweaty, smelly socks on autopilot. He stretched his toes like a cat stretching itself before I placed the basin in its place. Bert rolled up his jeans to his knees. I didn’t move. I waited until his feet were in the basin. He dipped his toes in the surface of the water. Bert lifted his legs quickly, his eyes growing round and wide. My heart stilled.

  “You tried to burn me,” Bert said. I shook my head in denial, unable to speak.

  He planted his feet on eithe
r side of the basin. I fell back at his sudden movement.

  “You little bitch.” I shook my head again, words refusing to come to me.

  Water sloshed across my legs and the wooden floor. Scrambling back, I tried to avoid the flying basin as Bert kicked it in a rage. I tucked myself tightly, trying to disappear as it hit my side. Keeping my eyes closed tightly I kept my head tucked into my chest as my heart beat wildly in my chest. The ground disappeared beneath me as I was airborne. My back roared at the abuse as Bert smashed me against the wall, his large hand circled my throat, and my small feet dangling near his knees. I clawed at his hands, terrified for the first time ever that I might die. It wasn’t just his hands around my throat, but the violence in his eyes. My nails sunk into his large hands that tightened around my throat, at a neck-breaking strength.

  I kicked and clawed as the light and energy started to disappear.

  Hitting the ground sent pain into my hip but nothing like the pain in my throat. I still couldn’t breathe as Jared pounded his fists into Bert’s head.

  “What are you staring at?” the question snapped me back to the present, and my stomach churned. The guy who had opened the door still held Bea by the throat. The red marks promised to bruise soon. Her mascara ran down her face as she looked at me with a plea of help.

  Tattooed fingers snapped in my face, and I stumbled back.

  “Are you retarded?” he barked. I hated that word. I had been asked it my whole life. I shook my head. My words had disappeared again. He let Bea go, and she ran down the stairs without looking back at me. Now I had this guy’s full attention. I could feel the trembling building in my hands.

  “You don’t look right to me,” he said as he took a step towards me, his eyes traveling up and down me, his lips curled into a snarl.

  “What are you doing here?” his stare was full of suspicion.

  I shrugged. Say something Layla, please. I looked at the ground, hoping he would leave me alone. His hand curled around my face, and I whimpered. Forcing my head up, he tightened his grip on my face.

  “You open your mouth to anyone about me, and I will cut out your tongue, retard.” I nodded as fear from all angles built up inside me. When he released me and went down the stairs, I slowly sank to the floor. My mind was a mix of him and Bert. I needed to get out of here. I hadn’t reached the bottom step when Morgan looked up at me, her arms linked with a frazzled looking Bea who wouldn’t meet my eye.

  “We're leaving.” I didn’t question anything but got into the car. Bonita never came out of the house, but I didn’t ask as Morgan drove me home.

  I stayed quiet as Bea cried in the back and while Morgan’s phone continued ringing. I also didn’t question why Morgan didn’t answer it. Once she pulled up at my house, I got out and slammed the door. As I walked up to my house, I prayed that Evelyn was asleep. I couldn’t let her see me like this. Placing my key in the door, I opened it slowly. The tv sounded softly from the living room, so I flew up the stairs and into my room. Baby wipes scrubbed my terror-stricken face. I tied up my hair and splashed my face with water as my bedroom door opened. A surprised Evelyn came in as I dried my face. “How was your night? You broke curfew,” she said with a broad smile, like me coming home later than eleven was great. I had no idea what time it was, but it felt late.

  “It was fun,” I said while getting fresh bedclothes out of my drawer, with my back to her. It gave me a chance to gather myself before facing her.

  When I turned around, Evelyn watched me carefully. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

  I had shared my darkest secrets with Evelyn, and she and Carl had helped me. Saved me. But I wouldn’t let them down, I would be a typical teenager. I forced a smile. “It was fun. Really.”

  Evelyn started picking up the clothes that I had dumped them on the floor. I changed into my sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt.

  “If there was a boy there, you could talk to me about that,” she glanced up with a smile playing on her lips. My chest tightened. Once again, I didn’t want to let her down. Taking a deep breath, I smiled.

  “Well, there was this one guy.”

  My clothes hit the floor as Evelyn clapped her hands. “I knew you were hiding something. Tell me all about him.”

  Was I really going to do this?

  “His name is Kieran,” I told her all about him, only I placed him in a fancy house with friends who looked just like him. Everyone laughed and danced.

  Evelyn took my face in her hands. “I am so happy for you. You deserve this, Layla.” My eyes burned, and my throat tightened. Turning away, I moved to my bed.

  “Thanks. I’m so tired.” I said as I climbed into my bed. I didn’t look at Evelyn until I was under the blanket. She was still smiling. I fidgeted with the top of the blanket, wanting nothing more than for Evelyn to go. She did, giving me a kiss on the forehead before whispering good night. She turned off my lights, closed the door, and the hall lights gave a dim light to my room. I lay in my bed going over the night in my head.

  Closing the door over dimmed the room. I lay in my bed going over the night in my head. But it was Bert who played center stage. Tears slide from the corner of my eyes. My door opened slightly, letting more light into the room. I stayed still, hoping I could convince Evelyn I was already sleeping.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A handful of cars littered the parking lot. With only a bowling alley, diner and Shelly’s Mini Supermarket in the strip mall, I wasn’t surprised. The Bowling Alley and Diner would open later on. There were five more vacant buildings, all the shutters pulled and decorated with graffiti.

  Shelly’s Mini Supermarket was scrawled across a white, green and red background. The two large windows were either side of the door, freshly painted white. You could see the owner took pride in his store. The front was swept free of litter, its area a beacon compared to the rest of the shop fronts. The store, like the title mentioned, was mini, with three large aisles and two checkouts to the right. Stepping inside the store, the soft hum of radio music and the fresh smell of washed floors greeted me. Walking down the middle aisle, I noted how nothing was out of place. Ashley must have had a quiet day in the market today. I met Ashley halfway down the aisle ready to greet her. I stopped as she gripped my arm and steered me to the back. Since she caught off guard, I blinked as my stomach dipped a little.

  What had I done?

  Once we were in the back, Ashley let me go and swiveled around to me.

  “Look, I’m going to be really straight with you.” Ashley took the same stance as she had with Lucas and Sam only days ago, one hand on her hip, her head swaying to each word. I forced myself not to take a step back. My strap slipped slightly off my shoulder, and I pushed it back up. “What you do on your own watch is your business. I know you were at Chester’s at the weekend.” She paused while lowering her head slightly as if egging me on to answer, but not giving me a moment to gather my thoughts. “Those guys are into some really heavy shit, and I don’t want it brought in here. You gettin’ what I’m saying?” With furrowed brows, she stared at me.

  “I’m going to make a lot of assumptions. Like Chester was the house owner?” I paused, and Ashley nodded. “I’m also going to assume the heavy stuff is drugs?” Another nod. “And you’re assuming I would take some. Because just to make it perfectly clear, I would never.” As I spoke, my voice raised in volume, as I defended myself.

  “You look like a really nice girl, Layla. I was surprised you were even there. And looks can be deceiving.” Her tongue ran along her teeth.

  “I was surprised, too. But you have nothing to worry about.” I wanted to get my bag into my locker and just work. Thoughts of Chester was something I didn’t need. There was a tense moment of silence between us, which consisted of her staring at me and me clutching my bag strap and trying to stand still without fidgeting. Finally, we both relaxed and the tension broke. “The owner and his son are coming in today, so we need to make sure everything is done.” That ended our
awkward conversation.

  Ashley never mentioned Chester again, and we spent the next three hours in bliss. I never thought cleaning could be so relaxing. Ashley was really nice; she smiled a lot as she spoke. I was a bit surprised to hear she had a baby; she wasn’t much older than me. Her love for her son, Nicco, shone through her words. He was 20 months old. She never mentioned the father, and I didn’t ask. We took turns serving customers before returning to cleaning the store.

  “I have to ask. How did you know I was at Chester’s?” Saying his name felt wrong. Like saying Candyman in the mirror. I found myself glancing over my shoulder so I could look back at Ashley. Her whole demeanor had changed at the mention of his name, and I regretted asking.

  “Lucas was there. One of the other guys was asking about you.” Lucas. That was the familiar voice I had heard.

  The bell rang again, and Ashley left to serve the new customers. It must have been Kieran, but why was he talking about me? I found myself smiling.

  “Hi, Mr. Garcia.” I could hear Ashley say. That was the owner. My stomach tightened. I hated meeting new people for the first time.

  It will be over soon. Relax and breath.

  I gathered the rags and bucket and made my way out back to dispose of them. I had just finished when Ashley arrived with Mr. Garcia. Quickly rubbing my hand along my pants, I took his outstretched hand.

  “Mr. Garcia. Great to meet you,” I said. He nodded in response. “You too, Layla.” His bright yellow shirt made him seem jollier than he already was. Wearing tan colored trousers and a blue and white striped tie, he reminded me of an over-enthusiastic salesperson.

  “Ashley here tells me you’re picking this up easily and doing a great job.” The compliment sent color to my cheeks. I smiled at Ashley before returning my attention to Mr. Garcia. “I like it here.” I noticed a boy walking in the opposite direction. His profile had my stomach clenching. His wavy black hair was cut short, showing his tanned neck. The black t-shirt stretching across his muscular back. My heart thumped as I thought of a boy from years ago. His jeans were faded on purpose and not from being re-washed too much. He was over six feet tall; the boy he reminded me of that caused pain in my chest was so much smaller, younger.