Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1) (44 page)

“Liz, but…” He shook his head. The second I said her name, I knew he was already doing it. I didn’t want him to. Once I told him what started it, he’d feel really guilty.

“Promise.” I insisted.

“Fine. I promise.” Patrick reluctantly answered. He looked at me, waiting.

“Well…umm…” Great. Now how do I start? It isn’t an easy story to relay. Then again, I’ve had to share tough things before. This isn’t as bad, in the grand spectrum of things. I told him how she grabbed me by my backpack and blamed me for ruining her perfect little lie and breaking them up.

Patrick winced and ran his hand through his hair. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. I don’t pretend to have that kind of power over anyone. To be honest, at that moment, I was mad. I was pissed that she felt like she had some claim on you. I told her to look in the mirror for someone to blame, ‘cause it wasn’t me.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “She talked about how happy you guys were, until I came along. She called you Paddy…”

He grimaced. “I really hated it when she called me that. Ugh.”

“I couldn’t stand it either. So, I kind of corrected her.” His eyes got wide. “Yeah, called her a user. Next thing I knew we were shoving each other, then she slapped me. When I hit back, her friends jumped in. Yeah, and it wasn’t to stop the fight. She had me outnumbered. After that, I don’t remember too much. It’s sort of a blur. Next thing I remember was seeing Joey and you.”

“God, Liz. I’m sorry. It’s my…” He tilted his head back, regret stained his face.

“No!” I interrupted him. “You promised! I don’t want to hear it.”

“But…”

“No. You’re not the one to blame for this.” I interrupted. “You didn’t do this to me. She and her friends did.” I started trembling. I was so angry. Angry at her and her friends. Angry that Patrick was blaming himself. Angry that I wasn’t able to fight back. Angry that my friends looked at me in pity.

“Liz… it’s okay. You’re okay. Calm down.” He held my hands which were shaking. Patrick looked at me, trying to read my mind. “Liz, relax.”

I couldn’t. I was so agitated. I looked over to where I had been lying on the ground. I had these out of body visions of what Becca did to me. I didn’t want to sit there anymore. I had to get away. I couldn’t be at school, at that spot right now. “No. No.” I shook my head. “I need to get out of here.”

“Sure. Okay.” Patrick said gently, stood up and offered his hand. I held onto his hand as I got up. I was still a little shaky on my feet, but okay. He walked close to me, in case I needed to be steadied, keeping in pace with me. We went over to where everyone was waiting to tell them we were leaving. I wanted to leave school, but I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I couldn’t go home. Not like this. I was a mess. Patrick walked me to my car in silence.

Great. He was probably blaming himself, even though I told him not to. He shouldn’t feel guilty that his crazy, bitchy ex-girlfriend blamed me for their break-up. I was just glad that he was done with her. Lindsey had told me to watch my back. Boy, she wasn’t wrong. I should have, especially after knowing that Becca and Patrick just broke up. I shouldn’t have let my guard down, thinking everything was fine. That’s usually when things go bad, and in my case, horribly bad.

“Do you want to be alone? I understand if you don’t want to see me right now.” Patrick’s voice sounded so small and distant. I had never heard him sound crushed before. I didn’t want him to bail on me. God, what if he thought it would be better if he wasn’t my friend. If we didn’t hang out. I couldn’t take that. That’s probably what Becca wanted. It would be just like her to manipulate him like that. To make Patrick feel so bad about me getting beat up, like it was his fault, that he would stop being my friend and go back to her, to get her to leave me alone. No. I would not let that happen.

“I don’t want to be alone. I hate being alone, especially when I feel like this. You are the only person I want to be with me right now. Please don’t go.” I felt like I was losing it and I couldn’t get a grip on myself. My mind was spinning out of control and the thought of Becca manipulating my friendship with Patrick. Not just messing with me, but with him and making
him
feel so guilty. And it seemed to be working.

Patrick’s expression changed. It was like he felt a little stronger. “You’re not alone, I’ll stay with you. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to go home, ‘cause my parents will be there. But, I need to change and clean-up.” My shirt was torn and bloodied. My nose had stopped bleeding, but it was obvious that it had. My hair was a mess. I just needed to change my shirt, wash my face, and brush my hair. After that, I could feel some semblance of normal. I was torn, I didn’t know what to do. I needed to change, but I didn’t want to go home.

“Let’s go to my house. You can clean up. I’m sure Lindsey has something you can wear. She won’t mind. We can stay there and hang out or go wherever you want.”

“Okay.” We both had our cars and couldn’t leave them at school. It would be easier to drive separately to his house and decide what to do from there. I got into my car to wait for Patrick to get his car, when I realized how sore I really was. Ow! Twisting to get into the driver’s seat caused a sharp pain go through my side. Man, that hurt.

I looked in my rear-view mirror and, for the first time, got a small glimpse at myself. What a mess. Before I could dwell on it, I could see him in my rear-view mirror. He waved for me to pull out. Patrick was in full protective mode, watching my back. He followed me to his house.

I kept replaying what happened in my head. I tried to remember more. I always blanked out at the same place. Why couldn’t I remember more? Alright, I know why, in a way, I was getting the crap beat out of me. But there was something Becca said that I couldn’t remember. Why? Why do I care what she said? I didn’t care what she said when I was conscious and alert. Why should I when I wasn’t? I didn’t like not knowing something or having gaps in my memory. It made me uneasy.

I got to Patrick’s house and he pulled into the driveway, while I parked on the street. I didn’t see any other cars parked at his house, his parents must not be home. I was a little relieved that they wouldn’t see me all messed up. I was slow to get out of car. Patrick was already out of his car and opening my door before I turned in pain to do it myself. Ow. Getting into the car when you’re hurt is one thing. You can plop into the seat and stand the pain as you settled in. But, to get out of the car is a whole
other
kind of pain. Now, you’re working against gravity and every muscle that hurts.

Patrick had to help me out of the car. Even with his help, it still hurt like hell. This sucked. He carried my backpack as we walked into his house. Patrick put his backpack down in the family room and we headed upstairs to Lindsey’s room. It was weird being in someone’s room when they weren’t there.

“Just pick whatever. I know Lindsey won’t mind.” Patrick slid her closet door open.

I looked at the clothes hanging in the closet. I casually flipped through the hangers. Her clothes were nice – blouses, button-downed shirts neatly ironed. All I wanted was a t-shirt. Just a basic t-shirt that didn’t call any attention to me. “Umm… I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right.” I was afraid that I would mess up her clothes. “I’m sure she won’t mind, but still… not asking. I’d feel bad if I spilled something on it or… Nah. It’s okay.” I closed her closet and headed out of her room.

“You sure? I can call her to ask, if it makes you feel better.” Patrick pulled out his cell phone.

“No. Please, don’t bother her. No need to explain why I’d need to borrow something. Let me just wash my face.” I walked to the bathroom. Patrick put my backpack next to the sink. I shut the door behind him and turned the light on. I got my first good look at myself. My pony tail was loose with chunks of hair that fell over my face. I can’t believe this happened again. I can’t believe I let her do this to me. How could this have happened? I’m not going to cry. I’m
not
going to cry. Not here. Not at Patrick’s, when his family could come home at any minute.

I turned on the water and lathered soap in my hands. I scrubbed my face. It stung as I rubbed the soap into my scrapes and cuts. The dirt and dried blood washed off into the sink. My face felt a little fresher and my hair was a little wet. Ugh, my hair. I pulled the hair tie out of my hair, causing the rest of my pony tail to fall. I shook out my hair, hoping to get the random bits of dirt out. Where is my brush? I dug through my backpack and found it.

I brushed through the tangles in my hair. Ow. My head hurt too much to put my hair back up into a pony tail. I fixed my hair to fall over part of my face and my shoulders. It was an easy way to partially cover the reminders that Becca left me. Well, at least from the shoulders up, I looked halfway decent. I looked down at my clothes. What am I going to do? I could partially hide the evidence on my face, but my clothes. It was obvious something happened to me when you looked at my shirt. It was torn, dirtied and bloodied. I stared at myself in the mirror. All I wanted to do was shove my shirt into my backpack. That wouldn’t work, I couldn’t go around without a shirt.

The knock on the door startled me. “How you are doing, Liz?” Patrick asked through the door.

“Umm… okay, I guess. I’ll be right out.” There wasn’t much else I could do.

“I brought you something to change into.”

I thought about his offer of borrowing something from Lindsey. It still felt wrong. I didn’t want to compound my problems. “I told you…”

“I know. It’s not Lindsey’s. It’s mine. It’s just a t-shirt.”

I should have figured that Patrick would know what I needed. I cracked open the door and his hand reached in with the shirt. “Thanks.”

I quickly pulled off my shirt and shoved it into my backpack. I put on Patrick’s shirt. It felt good – big, but comfortable and clean. It was like I was finally starting to shed off the dirty film that Becca cast on me. I checked myself out in the mirror. Much better. At least now, I looked more presentable.

I opened the door and saw Patrick waiting for me in the hallway. “How are you doing? Feeling better?”

“A little. I feel… cleaner.” I grabbed my backpack.

“That’s good.” He took my backpack from me. “What do you want to do? Hang out here? Go somewhere?” He looked at his watch. “My mom and Andy will probably be home soon. Just so you know.”

I thought about it for a second. “I don’t want them to see me this way. You know?”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah, I understand. Where do you want to go?”

“Hmmm… Could we go to the bluffs?” I didn’t know how he’d feel if I suggested going to
his
favorite thinking place.

“Sure.” Patrick smiled. Good, he isn’t mad. “I was thinking the same thing. Let me get you a sweatshirt. Sometimes, it gets cool right around now.” He ran to his room and came back with two sweatshirts. I put on the sweatshirt he handed me. It was oversized for me, but felt warm and comfy.

29. REALIZATION

Patrick drove us to the bluffs. I don’t think I could get there on my own, since I’ve only been there once before. Besides, I’m geographically challenged, I tend to get lost easily. If I drove out there by myself to think, I’d definitely get lost. You’d have to call the Coast Guard to find me. That wouldn’t be good.

We both were lost in our own thoughts. It had seemed so long ago that Patrick said he’d tell me how his ‘talk’ with Becca went yesterday. But, it was just this morning, not even 10 hours ago. How quickly life can change. My current concerns and thoughts were so different from this morning. You’d think I’d know how fast life can go from good to bad. We were almost to Moonlight Bluffs. “Patrick?”

“Yeah?” He glanced over at me.

“You okay?” I bit the inside of my cheek. I knew something was bothering him, but it wasn’t just about me getting beat up. There was something else.

“I feel bad…” His voice trailed off. We got to the bluffs and he parked the car.

“I told you…” I tried to remind Patrick that I didn’t blame him, but he cut me off.