“Stop runnin’ every time I talk to you.”
I swing around and it puts me way too close to Cole. I try to ignore his arm around my waist and what it might mean.
“I don’t run away from you,” I snap. Dang, I shouldn’t have snapped!
He lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, you do, Bridget. Every time I try to talk to you at the lockers you practically run away. You’re always hiding behind Reece and Link at school.”
“So what if I do?” I go on the defense. And here I thought I was doing such a great job at being invisible, in the meantime I was failing miserably at it!
“Why do you run? Did I do somethin’ wrong?” Cole always looks so sure of himself and to see him upset about something I did makes me feel horrible. “If I did somethin’ wrong, tell me so I can fix it,” he says with an undertone of urgency.
“No,” I whisper. It feels as if my whole body is deflating. I don’t want to hurt other people. That’s why I keep to myself. “It’s not you, Cole.”
“Don’t give me that line,” he growls, yanking his arm away from me. “It’s not you, it’s me. Really? Dammit, Bridget, you can come up with somethin’ better than that!”
I swallow hard in one last attempt to hold the tears back as his harsh words rain down on me, but it doesn’t help. The tears spill hot and fast, forming salty tracks down my cheeks.
“It’s not a line. I didn’t know you wanted to talk to me. All I focused on was trying to be as invisible as possible.” My voice is shaky as I admit this to him. “You weren’t supposed to see me. I wore the same clothes. I hid behind my locker. I hid behind Reece and Link. I sat in the back of the class. First in, last out. If I’m invisible then no one will see me. It’s not you, Cole, it’s me. There isn’t a light strong enough for me!”
I get up and walk towards the house. If I can’t go home now, I’ll wait in the car.
“Bridget,” he calls behind me. “Bridget, wait.” He grabs hold of my hand and darts around me, blocking my way to the house. “I’m sorry. Don’t go in, not yet.”
“I want to go home,” I whisper. Using the back of my hand, I wipe at my cheeks.
“Can I take you?”
“Please.” Hell, I’ll bite onto a bumper to get a ride back home right now.
“Wait here. I’m just going to go tell our parents,” he says, before running into the house.
A few minutes later Pastor Beasley comes out with Cole. I wipe faster at my cheeks, trying to remove all the traces of the tears.
“I’m sorry, Kiddo,” Pastor Beasley says, and I can hear the remorse in his voice.
“Now I get to choose the movies for the next month,” I try to joke.
“Sure thing.” He pulls me in for a hug and I struggle to hold the tears back. “Cole said he’ll stay with you until we get home.”
“I’ll be okay. He doesn’t have to,” I say. I don’t want to spoil Cole’s night. “Besides, Travis is waiting for him.”
“I don’t want you to be alone, Kiddo, not after tonight.” He holds the house keys out to me.
“I’ll go through my window. You keep them to get in incase I fall asleep.” I’m trying to bring my point across that I don’t want Cole babysitting me.
“Either he stays with you or you stay here,” Pastor Beasley says adamantly.
“I’m eighteen! I don’t need a babysitter.” Cole walks closer and it’s clear he has been listening in on us. Great! Can this night get any worse?
“What if you have a panic attack?”
My mouth drops open and my cheeks flush with every drop of blood in my body. I can’t believe he just said that in front of Cole!
“I’ll wake up, like I always do!” I snap. I don’t look at Cole as I head for his truck, without the house keys.
I yank the door open and look for a place to grab onto. “Why does he have to drive such a huge thing?” I snap at the truck. I’m on a war path with every-and-anything that comes in way.
“To people who just barely reach five feet it seems huge,” Cole says behind me. He grabs hold of my hips and lifts me into the truck.
I wait for him to get him before I mutter from my corner, “Five foot three.”
“You really want to compare inches, Bridget?” he asks with the sexiest grin spreading across his face. Is he flirting with me? Damn, I don’t know the first thing about flirting.
“You clearly win in that department, but don’t let it go to your head.” I fold my arms, pretending not to give a rat’s ass about what he thinks. “I meant what I said, I don’t need a babysitter.” I don’t know why I’m bringing it up.
“Will you stop being so stubborn? I’m takin’ you home. I’m going to stay with you because I want to. Deal with it, Bridget. Dammit, you make it hard to try and be around you. You’d swear I’m going to kidnap you and lock you up. I just want to-”
I suck in a shocked breath. I can’t get the next breath of air in. I grab at my chest and throw my body forward, trying to curl into a small ball. If I’m small he can’t see me.
That’s the first thing I remember to do as the darkness sucks me in. Anxiety claws at my flesh until only the bones are left, until all that’s left is the skeleton.
~*~
There are different shades to black. There’s your normal black, then there’s the kind where it’s so dark you see spots.
It’s so dark you see things children shouldn’t see.
It’s so dark you see the Bogeyman.
It’s the one Daddy whispers about through the door. “Here comes the Bogeyman. The Bogeyman’s coming to get you!”
It’s so dark you see fear in every speck of dust.
And then you smell it when you wet yourself. You feel it when it gets cold, because you’re standing in your own pee, and there’s nothing you can do about it because you’re locked in the closet.
You smell fear. You smell it in the stench around you when the hours become months. You taste the fear in your tears. You hear it when your stomach growls for food.
The Bogeyman is real. The Bogeyman is my daddy.
He only listens to one song. The man plays guitar, plucking the strings hard, as hard as the Bogeyman drinks.
The man sings about skeletons in the closet and the Bogeyman sings with him. “I’ve got a skeleton in the closet and she ain’t ever coming out,” he sings loud, but sometimes he’ll stand in front of the closet and he’ll whisper, those are the days I believe him. “I’ve got a skeleton in the closet and she ain’t ever coming out.”
~*~
“Bridget.” I flex my fingers and miss Pastor Beasley’s hand in mine as I come to. Warm hands gently cradle my face. His thumbs wipe the tears from my cheeks. My eyes flutter open and I’m met with Cole’s worried gaze.
“Thank fuck!” Cole growls.
Somewhere in the midst of my panic attack, Cole pulled over. He laid me down on the seat and … I let my eyes travel over his body that’s straddling mine. Yeah, he’s on top of me. This is by far the best way I’ve ever woken up from a panic attack. The fear just up and vanished at the sight of him.
“You scared the shit out of me!” he says, still looking worried.
“I’m so-” my words are swallowed by his lips as his mouth slams into mine. Another one of those fire crackers detonates inside of me, and I turn to mush under him as his lips coax mine into opening up. I part my lips and as his tongue slips over mine I grab hold of his shirt. My fingers twist into the material, wanting so badly to touch more of him. I feel his teeth graze my bottom lip and I smother a moan just in time.
Cole slides his hands down my sides. He leaves a trail of hot tingles behind until he takes hold of the hem of my shirt. I grab hold of his hands and break the kiss.