the dreaded gray Toyota with a set of never-before-touched keys. I took a ton of deep breaths and grasped the door handle five times before I was even able to get in the car.
The inside smelled brand new since technically it was a brand new car. My dad had forced me to drive it once when I first got it and I silently cried the entire time. Even now, climbing inside the car felt wrong. I felt like I was saying what my father did to me was okay. It wasn’t, but I needed to get to Zeke and I couldn’t keep calling Megan every time I needed to go somewhere.
I knew my way to Zeke’s house well. What I didn’t know was what the hell I was going to say to him once I got there. He’d probably never talk to me again and I couldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but I promised my mom I’d be honest about my feelings toward him and that’s what I was going to do.
I had the feeling that once I confessed my feelings to him he’d never talk to me again. Guys like Zeke ran from emotions, but deep down I could feel things getting out of hand. Soon, we’d never talk to each anymore anyway. This way I could get my feelings off my chest and have a peace that my mother never got.
When I pulled into Zeke’s muddy yard, I parked between his car and his dad’s tow truck. I cut my engine and got out. My shoes sank into the dirt as I cut across his small yard. The steps squeaked as I went up. I held my hand up and was about to knock when I heard a loud smashing noise on the inside.
Someone was yelling and then there was another loud noise. Without thinking I grabbed onto the knob and turned it. The door opened easily. Stepping inside the small, shabby space, the first thing I saw was Zeke on the floor with blood on his face. His father was standing over him with fist in the air ready to come down.
Without thinking, I jumped. I latched onto his dad’s arm and held on tight as he tried to shake me off. Once I released his arm, I jumped in front of Zeke and stared into his dad’s eyes.
He was a big man, much bigger than my own, and he smelled awful, like beer and cigarettes. His grease-covered shirt was too tight and his hair was disheveled like he’d just woken up.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
His hot breath struck my cheek and I accidently breathed it in. The smell made my stomach roll and I thought for sure I was going to throw up all over him. The room spun as fear smashed into me, but I’d known fear many times in my life and I wasn’t going to let it get the best of me, not when Zeke needed me.
“Don’t you dare hit him again!” I growled back at him.
My voice surprised me. How was I able to stand up to this stranger? How was I able to get past the deep-set fear that had taken over me? When faced with my dad I couldn’t do this, and I knew how far I could go with him. I didn’t know this man from a hole in the wall, yet I stood toe to toe with him and dared him to touch Zeke.
He towed over me and his chest bumped into my face. From behind me I could hear Zeke coming to and getting up from the floor.
“No, snowflake,” he said through a bloodied lip. “Just let it go and get out of here.”
Just like that, so many things made sense now—the bruises I’d seen on him, his anger toward everyone, his quickness to fight another human being. Just as I had my defense mechanisms, Zeke had his. He had shields just the way I did.
Our lives weren’t so different. Abuse was abuse no matter its form. One wasn’t easier than the other; either way it hurt. Either way it scarred the person on the receiving end. It scarred them and broke them into tiny pieces. Zeke and I were both broken parts of a whole person and no matter what piece you put where, it would fit, because we fit. I’d always known it. We fit.
“Mind your own fucking business, little girl,” his dad said.