All in Pieces

  “I want to stay,” he sobs.

  “Me too.” I blink and lift my eyes upward. The front door closes, and Cameron walks out with his car keys, looking so sorry.

  I stand by the car as Evan’s cries begin to soften. Cameron meets my gaze over the roof of the car. He swallows hard and unlocks the doors.

  Evan lies in my lap, alternating between shaking and whimpering. My body starts to go numb. When this happens, I have to go numb. It’s too hard otherwise.

  My father’s truck isn’t in the driveway when we pull up to the house. Thank God. I don’t want to have to explain where we’ve been.

  After he cuts the engine, Cameron gets out and comes around to open the car door for us. He reaches for Evan, but I shake my head and instead let him hold my elbow as I climb out.

  I shift Evan’s weight, feeling that he’s fallen asleep.

  “Savannah,” Cameron whispers, but I can’t talk right now.

  “Thanks,” I say, cutting off what he was going to say. “For dinner and everything.”

  His mouth opens like he wants to say more, but he stops and nods instead. And I knew from the beginning that letting him this close was stupid. He doesn’t fit into my life. Evan needs too much from me. There’s nothing left for Cameron.

  I start walking toward the house, tears waiting until I can be alone. The porch steps are steep as I try to support Evan’s weight.

  “Good night, Savannah,” Cameron calls, sounding sad.

  But I say good-bye. Because I have nothing left to give him.

  * * *

  Evan sleeps in my room with me. He doesn’t wake up when I cry, wishing things were different. Wishing he were different, and then hating myself for the thought.

  When I get up in the morning, Evan is curled up under the covers. I kiss his forehead. I close the bedroom door behind me and make my way into the kitchen.

  My stomach turns.

  “Where were you last night?” my father asks as he sits at the table. His clothes are ragged, and he’s obviously nursing a hangover. His eyes bore into me and I look away—feeling shamed.

  “Evan and I went to my friend’s house for dinner.” I walk over to the counter and grab the coffeepot to fill it with water.

  “How nice for you,” he says. “Don’t you think you should have called?”

  No. “You weren’t here. We were home early.”

  I hear the scrape as he pushes his plate away. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you anymore,” he says. “What are you doing?”

  I clench my jaw and fill the coffeepot with water. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Really? And putting a pencil through someone’s hand is normal?”

  “He was talking about Evan.”

  “I don’t care, Savannah.” He gets up and crosses the room, stopping at the sink and smelling like last night’s booze. He watches while I put the grounds in the coffeemaker.

  “He called him a retard,” I whisper, wanting him to understand.

  “And?” my father asks.

  I turn to him, my face on fire.

  He exhales. “You’re not his mother.” His voice softens a little. “You’ll never be his mother. You can’t protect him for the rest of his life.”

  “I sure as hell can try.”

  And my father looks at me. His eyes aren’t angry; they’re sad. “Savannah, I talked to Kathy,” he says.

  Oh God, no. I almost drop the can of coffee. My lip quivers as I look at him. “You didn’t,” I say.

  He nods, his eyes welling up. I set the can on the counter, gasping for breath.

  “What did you do?” I ask him, backing away. “What did you do, Dad?”

  “She can give him a better life,” he tries to explain. “She can be a mom to him.”

  “You asshole!” I yell, my voice cracking. “What did you do?”

  “She’s coming later today. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else—”

  But I run from him. My father has signed over custody of my brother. Of his own son. Kathy is taking Evan away from me.

  I burst into my room and dive into the bed, gathering Evan up and holding him to me.

  “Savannah,” he whines. “I’m sleeping.”

  But I rock him and bite on my lip to keep my cries silent. My father has just lost everything. He’s given away the only reason I have. I take care of Evan. I’m his life. He is mine. What has he done?

  I kiss Evan’s head and pray that we both wake up from this nightmare.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  My father doesn’t come into my room. I figure he probably went to the living room to hate himself in private. I call Retha, but her grandmother says she went to see Travis. I have a second of relief at the fact that he can have visitors now. But when Retha’s gram asks if I want to leave a message, I can’t bear to say out loud that I’ve lost Evan. How can I ever tell anyone?

  When it’s almost noon, I get Evan dressed to go out. Nothing seems real. Like I’m slow walking through a nightmare.

  “You want to head to the mall?” I ask my brother.

  His face lights up. “Yes!” Evan loves the mall, but we rarely go. It’s tough to keep an eye on him there, and we don’t have money to buy anything, so it seems a bit much for a normal day. But this is our last normal day.

  “Me and you, buddy,” I say. “We’re going to have lunch and walk around.”

  “And look at video games,” he adds.

  “Yeah,” I say. I want to call Cameron, but I don’t. He doesn’t need to get mixed up in this now. He should be worrying about graduating, making plans for after. Meeting someone else. I close my eyes.

  “Are you sad?” Evan asks, putting his palms on my cheeks.

  “No,” I say, smiling. “I’m just hungry. Are you hungry?”

  “French fries,” he announces, lifting his arms in the air.

  “You got it.”

  I have Evan wait in my bedroom while I survey the house. Kathy may be coming to get him later, but I’m spending the day with my brother. They can all go fuck themselves. My father seems to be asleep on the couch, and I find his wallet and keys near the front door and take them.

  I grab Evan by his little hand, and we weave our way quietly through the house. The door is silent when I close it.

  “Where’s Daddy?” Evan asks as I help him into the truck.

  “He’s sleeping.”

  “Lazy bones,” Evan says, and giggles.

  “Yep,” I say, fixing his jacket. “Not like us, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  And he’s so happy. Not at all like the kid last night, crying and kicking. This is my Evan. And I don’t want them to take him. He belongs with me.

  Our dad’s wallet has close to a hundred dollars in it—Xbox money. Piece of shit. I’m going to spend every cent on my brother. Every last penny.

  The mall is in the middle of a renovation, but it works for us because the place is practically deserted.

  The first thing I do is get Evan large fries and a strawberry milk shake. His feet swing under the food court chair as he eats. I watch him, trying to memorize every movement. Keeping the grief buried so he won’t have to see me sad.

  Next we go to the pet shop, to look at the puppies and pet the rabbits. Evan squeals every time a bunny moves. It’s adorable, and I actually debate buying him one. But if Kathy didn’t let him keep it, it would be another reason for him to be hurt. So we settle on just watching the animals in their cages.

  I buy him a truck and a stuffed animal. I buy him candy. I buy whatever he asks for, but I still want to die. I just want to die whenever I look at the clock, knowing that Kathy is waiting. My father will notice that his wallet and keys are gone. He and Kathy might call the police. Or they might just wait for me.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Evan says, holding himself.

  “Don’t do that,” I say, pulling his hand away from the front of his pants. “I’ll take you right now.”

  We walk quickly,
finding the hallway in the construction that twists toward the bathrooms. Plastic wrap covers some of the walls, and the smell of paint is thick in the air.

  There is a low whistle from behind me. When I hear it again, a pit opens in my stomach. I touch my hand to the back of Evan’s head, hoping that around the corner there will be a construction worker or someone leaving the bathrooms.

  I walk quickly, but when I round the corner, no one is there. Not one damn person. We’re alone.

  “Slutton . . .”

  Shit. “Come on, Evan,” I say, taking the sleeve of his jacket. I hold my breath and look back. Patrick starts to jog toward us.

  I look quickly around the hall, but the only escape is the bathroom. And that would be stupid. It would be stupid to trap myself in a room with Patrick. Panic tears through my chest. Where the hell is everybody? I can’t scream—it would terrify Evan. I have to get us out of this.

  “Slutton,” Patrick sings from behind us again.

  I reach the end of the hall and stop. My heart races and my fingers are trembling so badly, I’m losing my grip on Evan’s jacket.

  I lead Evan to the corner and kneel next to him to get on his level. “Hey, buddy,” I whisper. “I have to go talk to my friend. Will you wait here?” Please don’t let him hear the panic in my voice.

  He stares at me for a moment, and then nods. I smile. “Sit down,” I say, pointing to the floor. He slides down the wall, never taking his eyes off me.

  I get up, and when I turn, Patrick is there, waiting with his big arms crossed over his chest. He leans to the side to look at Evan. “How’s it going, retard?” he asks him.

  My fear turns to anger, and my face catches fire. I walk straight toward him, wishing I had something to stab him with now.

  “Come here,” he says, taunting me. “Come here, Savannah.” He opens his arms. I clench my fist, ready to punch him. I’m going to punch him until he leaves.

  But before I finish cocking back my arm, there is an explosion of pain high on my left cheek where he hits me. I stumble back, too stunned to scream. Patrick grabs me by my still raised wrist and spins me around, slamming me chest first into the tiled wall near the bathrooms.

  I gasp as white-hot pain shoots up my arm, starting at my wrist and stretching up through my chest. Blood spurts on the white tile from between my lips. I try to catch my breath as Patrick holds me face-first against the wall, his heavy body leaning into me.

  My face is turned in Evan’s direction, forced to make him watch my expression. His eyes are wide and frightened. My wrist hurts so fucking badly, but if I cry, Evan will be so scared. He’ll absolutely lose it. So I try to smile at him to let him know we’ll be okay. Then I close my eyes and hold back the tears.

  Patrick pushes his body further against me, pinning me to the wall and making it hard to breathe. His lips touch my ear. “You are very violent. Do you know that, Savannah?”

  I keep my eyes closed. His free hand slides down over my ass, and the violation of it all nearly breaks me. I bite down hard on my lip.

  “You seriously need therapy,” Patrick says. His breath is hot on my ear, and I can feel that he’s excited. That this sick bastard is getting off on this.

  “My wrist is broken,” I whisper. The cold tile on my face is good because it’s keeping me from fainting. I can’t open my eyes. I don’t want Evan to see them.

  Patrick laughs, sliding his hand between my legs. “Mm . . .” he says.

  Tears leak out, running down my sore cheek. “Stop,” I murmur. Helpless. So completely helpless. I whimper as he changes the grasp he has on my wrist, so that he can get closer to me. But it only makes the pain in my broken bone worse.

  “You owe me an apology,” he says, his tongue touching the outside of my ear.

  “Please, stop . . .” This isn’t happening. Patrick squeezes me hard through my jeans, and I draw in a harsh breath as I try to back up. But he uses my arm to draw me back and slam me into the wall once again, knocking the wind out of me.

  “Say you’re sorry,” he hisses, and grips the back of my neck.

  “I’m sorry,” I say immediately. I want to choke on it. When I get out of here, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to drop Evan off, and then I’m going to find Patrick and kill him.

  “What are you sorry for?” he prods.

  I’m broken. Violated. “I’m sorry that I stabbed you, Patrick.”

  He makes a noise as he pushes himself against me once more, getting one last feel. He is dead. I will kill him.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs in my ear. “Now was that so hard?”

  And suddenly he lets me go. I don’t move. From the coolness on my cheeks, I know they’re wet with tears. I want to collapse and sob. But I need Patrick to go first.

  “Take care, Savannah,” he says as if I were someone he was passing in the school hallway. “See you later, retard,” he calls to my brother.

  I still don’t move. I want to stop shaking. I want to disappear. My face is against the tile and my arm is beginning to go numb as it hangs limply at my side. Patrick chuckles to himself before I hear his sneakers squeak along the mall floor.

  When the sound is gone, I open my eyes. They’re sticky with tears, and when my vision clears, I see Evan.

  He’s still there, where I’d told him to stay. Only he’s slumped over, his hands covering his face, sobbing quietly. The front of his pants is drenched in urine, his body shaking uncontrollably. He deserves someone better than me. I can’t even protect him from Patrick.

  Evan deserves so much better.

  I hold my arm close to my body as I shuffle over and kneel in front of Evan. I’m trembling, sick to my stomach.

  “Evan,” I whisper, touching his hair with my good hand. My body is trying to go into the calm I need to comfort him, but I’m struggling. I’m scared.

  Evan’s cries are soft, not like the meltdowns. This is something different. This is so much worse.

  “Evan,” I say again, hearing the catch in my voice. I can’t lift him with my arm like this. “Get up,” I say, strengthening my voice. “I need to leave now, Evan. Get up.”

  He shakes his head slowly from side to side, refusing to look at me.

  “I need Cameron,” I say, and it surprises me. But I swallow it down, and I say it again. “We need to get Cameron, Evan.”

  I don’t know where else to go. I can’t take him to Kathy like this. She’d never let me see him again. I straighten up, and wince as my arm accidentally bumps the wall.

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  “That’s not nice, Savannah,” Evan mumbles behind his hands.

  Relief washes over me. “Buddy?” I ask. “I need you to help me. My hand got hurt and I need to go to the doctor.”

  “I want Cameron,” he says in a low voice.

  So do I. “Okay. Let’s go get him. But you need to walk. I can’t carry you.”

  And finally my brother slowly stands, keeping his face covered except for a little spot where his hands are open for him to peek through.

  I start to walk, waiting for him to tag along. I’m in so much pain and I need help. The front of Evan’s corduroys has turned dark where he peed them, but we have to walk through the mall to get to the truck. If I can get us to the truck, we’ll be okay.

  It takes a long time, but when we finally get into the parking lot, I gulp in the cool air, trying to dull my pain. Trying to forget about the aching between my legs where that bastard touched me.

  It’s hard to open the heavy truck door with my left hand, but I manage it. Evan climbs into the cab, and when I hoist myself in after him, pain explodes across my arm. I moan and pull the door shut. When I straighten, I catch my reflection in the rearview.

  The side of my mouth is bleeding. There’s a small cut on my lip where I hit the wall, and my left eye has begun to swell. I stare at myself, hating my reflection. Hating that I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off. Hating that I wasn’t smart enough. Fresh tears spring from my eyes, and a
round me, the truck reeks of urine.

  I fucked up. I fucked everything up.

  Evan sniffles and I look over at him as he stares out the window. I want to reach for him but my wrist is broken.

  “I love you, Evan,” I say instead.

  “I love you, too, Savannah,” he says so quietly it breaks my heart.

  As best as I can manage, I start the truck and, using my left hand, slowly drive us toward Cameron’s house.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When I pull up to Cameron’s house, his car is in the driveway, and I’m so grateful. I can’t think right now; I can’t figure out where else to go. I need help.

  Evan lies listlessly across the seat and I can’t lift him. I cut the truck engine, jump out, and run to the front door. I press the doorbell repeatedly.

  The door swings open, and Kendra slaps her hand over her mouth when she sees me.

  “Savannah?” she says, reaching out to me. I shrink away and keep my arm in front of me.

  “Evan’s in the truck,” I say. “I . . . I can’t pick him up. I’m hurt and—”

  “Savannah?” Cameron’s face pales when he appears behind his mother. “Christ, what’s happened?”

  Kendra jogs out of the house toward the truck, yanking open the passenger door to get Evan. Cameron’s eyes look me over, trying to take in all my injuries.

  He notices how I hold my arm.

  “I’m hurt,” I whisper.

  He nods, licking his lips as his expression darkens. “I can see that,” he says.

  Kendra murmurs in Evan’s ear as she carries him into the house. Watching her hold him like that makes me feel so much better. The relief is overwhelming.

  I swoon.

  “Savannah!” Cameron grabs me, steadying me as the world spins out of orbit. I break down.

  “They’re taking him away,” I say, starting to cry. “They’re taking him away from me.”

  Cameron puts his arms carefully around me, and I rest my face against his neck. I’m not sure how much longer I can stand this. Stand my life.

  “Evan?” Cameron asks. “Who’s taking him?”