Free Veil of Scars by J. R. Gray Page A

I scrunched up my face. “I’m rambling, sorry.”
    He chuckled, causing his chest to rumble against mine. “I like when you ramble.”
    The door squeaked open, and Charlie peeked through. There was only a thin sheet covering us, and we were tangled in one another’s arms. Sam winced, and Charlie’s mouth fell open.
    “Oh shit.”

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    Sam scrambled, and I froze in shock, half sitting, not sure what to do with myself. She looked at the two of us, her cheeks flushed.
    "I'm sorry. I guess I'll learn to knock." She started to back out the door.
    Sam scrambled to get out of bed. "You don't have to go, baby."
    Charlie held up her hands and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I have to run to the store, sorry." She closed the door behind her.
    "Fuck," he cursed and flopped back down on the bed.
    Bile turned in my stomach, and a shot of ice water rushed through my veins. I didn't know which was worse, Charlie seeming so shocked, or how crushed Sam looked by her reaction. I lay back down on my side not touching Sam.
    "I'm sorry."
    "Don't be sorry. I thought she'd be okay with this. She said she was okay with it.” He curled a protective arm around me.
    “Maybe she wanted to be,” I murmured.
    ****
    It took me back to the end of senior year, the times he'd shielded me from the world. I had just started to doze when my father pulled up in the drive, and I could smell it on him. He had a particular swagger to his step and the cockeyed way he disregarded his usually meticulous parking, instead pulling half onto the grass, told me I needed to get out fast. My room was at the back of the house, and I couldn't get out the front door without running into him.
    The closest phone was in their room across the hall. I had to get there. I took a calming breath and twisted the handle of my door. I prayed it wouldn't squeak. Inch by inch I pulled open the door and peeked around the corner. It was empty. The bile in my throat burned as I darted out of my room and dove into theirs, quickly closing the door behind me. I waited, not sure if I'd been seen or heard.
    When I heard nothing I grabbed the phone, knowing I would only have so long.
    "Hello?" Sam's voice was throaty.
    "Sam!" I didn't even try to hide the need in my voice.
    "How bad is it?" He knew me too well.
    "It's the worst I've seen in a long time," I whispered, clutching the phone until my knuckles were white.
    "Shit." He sounded more alert. "Worse than two weeks ago?"
    I nodded and pressed my eyes closed, muttering, "Yes."
    "I'll be there as soon as I can to pick you up."
    "Sam, who's on the phone at this hour?" his mother's voice said over the line.
    He covered the phone with his hand, but I could hear Sam's muffled voice. "It doesn't matter, Mom."
    Some scratching came over the line, and then Sam said, "I'll get there as fast as I can."
    "Where do you think you're going?" his mom said, and the line went dead.
    I tried to push back the panic I felt rising in my throat. He didn't have to come get me, I could walk. I clutched the phone long after it was dead, listening to my parents' screaming match in the other room. What if he didn’t come? They went on about something to do with my father's card getting denied at the bar. The next sound was blood chilling. The distinct pitch of shattering glass on the floor. I’d heard it so many times. Between liquor bottles and glasses thrown at walls, I could envision what it was and where it struck with scary accuracy. This was a handle of vodka against the floor, which either meant it was thrown, or dropped. Dropped was much, much worse. Wasted alcohol put him in a murderous rage.
    I only had three months left before I could move out. Three months until I would be in a college apartment and as far out of his reach as I could get for the time being. The last month had me doubting if I would make it out alive. Injuries came and went, but they were always scattered far enough apart that I’d never drawn attention to