Chapter 2

Lilly's POV

    I wake up with a pounding head and a woozy stomach. I drank way too much at that party last night. How I even got home I'm not sure, and I don't try to remember. I sit up in my bed and cringe at the bright light coming through my window. Another night spent wasted that I have no recollection of. But that's the whole point of drinking until you can't stand.

That's what I'm aiming for.

    I get up and go into the bathroom, and when I look at myself in the mirror, I cringe. My hair looks like I had it hung out of a car window, my make up around my eyes is smeared, and I have a quarter size hickey in the center of my neck where everyone can see it. Thank you for that Denny. Not that I even remember us doing anything, but I know he has to be the only one I did anything with.

    I brush my teeth and jump in the shower to wash away as much evidence from last night as I can. I dry myself off, get dressed in my works clothes for my shift that starts in an hour, apply some make up to my face so I don't look like a zombie, and a little on my neck to try and cover that god awful hickey. I head downstairs to face the wrath of my parents. They'll yell and scream like they actually care about what I do, but we all know they don't. Everything is for show.

    When I walk into the kitchen, my mom is at the kitchen counter making my dad some lunch, and he's sitting at the table looking over some paperwork with a cup of coffee. My mom looks at me and disappointment washes over her face like it always does. She looks away and continues what she was doing. I guess at least she didn't yell at me. I walk all the way into the kitchen and get everything I need for a bowl of cereal, and sit across from my dad. Im not even done making the bowl before he opens his mouth to throw insults at me.

    "Ahhh, well look who finally decided to join us on this lovely Saturday. Sleep good princess?" He asks in a condescending tone. The words could come from another dad and sound sweet or like good natured joking, but from mine they're anything but that. I bite my tongue and don't reply, it's only ever worse if I do.

    But of course he doesn't stop. "I'm sure you did sleep good, seeing as how you were passed out while you were being carried in by your boyfriend. That's also a nice spot on your neck. Tell me, do you like looking like a slut to everyone in this town? Do you like embarrassing your mother and I?" His words hurt but I don't let it show. I'm too used to his mistreatment to ever let him see it gets to me. I just keep shoveling cereal into my mouth.

     "What, nothing to say? No lies to try and defend yourself with?" He says to me. I just keep ignoring him and finally he snaps. He reaches across the table, grabs my bowl of cereal and throws it against the wall, scattering glass, milk, and cereal all over the floor, wall, and myself. I sit there with the spoon still in my hand, my heart pounding so fast and hard I can hear it in my ears, feel it below my skin. "Answer me!" He screams at me.

     "So is that some alcohol you have in that coffee mug Dad? Because when you drink, it makes you an even bigger asshole than usual." I may be scared, but I'm not a lap dog who just tucks his tail between his legs. Although, sometimes I probably should. Because talking back only makes it worse for myself in the long run.

     He reaches across the table and smacks me across the face with the back of his hand. My head whips to the side and I taste metallic in my mouth almost instantly. I continue to have my head turned to the side and see my mother looking at us with terror in her eyes. She doesn't agree with the way he treats me, but she'll never say that to him.

      "Paul, I thought we agreed, no more hitting her. You know if people saw that.." she trails off because she doesn't want to make him mad. I stare at her in disbelief and then spit the blood that's pooled in my mouth on to the nice cleaned floor.

    I leave behind a bloody mess, the way I feel on the inside as well.

     "Yeah mom, lets be fucking worried about what people would think if they saw a handprint on my face, or a busted lip. Not about the fact that my dad, and your husband, actually does abuse me verbally and physically. Can't let anyone know what a fucked up pair you two are, huh?" I finally look at my dad and he has his hands fisted at his sides, but I know he won't hit me again. Not after my mom reminded him that people could see it. Maybe even later he'll try to talk to me and tell me it was my fault, that I just get him so riled up with my crude behavior, that he can't help himself.

    That I should know better, because I know he has a temper.

     "I have to go to work. I guess we all better hope that a mark doesn't show up." I stand up out of my chair, brush my hands over my blue jeans and work shirt to make sure I have no cereal or glass on me, and then walk out of the kitchen without giving either of them another second of my time.

     I see my purse sitting by the door, and find my car keys inside. I guess Denny put them in there after he dropped me off last night. Before I run out the door, I go into the bathroom and grab some toilet paper to wipe my lip off with. I look in the mirror and see that he has slit it open, and its so swollen it wont even shut all the way with my top lip. My eyes feel with tears but I push them back down, and keep going. I hop in my car and head to work. And for the first time since I walked downstairs, I can finally breathe and feel my heart start to slow down to a normal pace.

      Denny is my boyfriend of about a year now. He was Sutter's closest friend besides me, before he left that is. When he left he didn't have anything to do with any of us anymore, like we never existed or mattered to him. Just thinking his name makes me feel sick to my stomach. I think about him everyday of course, even after all this time, even after he broke my heart and didn't care. Even after he left me alone after we both lost someone so important to us. Her name is one that I can't think though, because it's unbearable if I do.

      Denny and I were different at first. Like Sutter, I've known him since I was little girl. But we had only ever been friends, because I was with Sutter from the very beginning. Going from the friend stage to something more was definitely hard, but it worked out I guess. We're not very affectionate, and we both do what we want all the time, and we like it that way. I guess it's the consistency I like. I don't like change, and I can always count on Denny to be there when I'm in the mood for him. That sounds terrible, but we both use each other in that sense. Of course I care for him in my own way, but it's nothing like that overwhelming feeling of love you get for someone that it's real with.

And being with Sutter was the realest thing I've ever experienced. I started loving him at five years old and I haven't stopped. Because contrary to popular belief, when you really love someone, you don't just stop and move on like they were never there. Their memory is always with you, and no matter how hard you try to forget what their voice sounds like, or their feel of their hand in yours, or even just the way they laugh, those things never go away. If I focus hard enough now, I can remember what Sutter's handsome face looks like when he's laughing so hard that his eyes are squinted, and his mouth is open, showing his now straight teeth.

     My first memory of my life is seeing Sutter's family unloading boxes out of a uhaul truck and carrying them inside.

-I'm sitting on my bike watching, and decide to pedal up a little closer so I can try to see what they look like. There has never been any other kids live close to me before, and the idea of having someone to play with is already exciting me. I see his mom and Dad first, and they finally see me too. His mom stops what she's doing and smiles at me.

     "Hi, sweetie, we're the Mayfield's. What's your name?"

     Her voice is so motherly and nice, it makes me want to cry. My mom has never used that tone with me before.

     "Um, Lilly. I live just down the road." I realize I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, but they don't feel like strangers to me.

     "Oh that's great, isn't it Hal?" She looks and smiles at her husband lovingly. "We have two little ones as well who would love to play with you."

     As soon as she gets done with her sentence, a boy about my age comes riding down the moving truck ramp on his bike. He sees me and almost falls over, but rights himself at the last second. He stops a couple feet in front of me.

     "Hi, I'm Sutter Lou Mayfield. I'm 5 and a half and this is my new town." The way he says it is like it's rehearsed and I wonder if that's how his mom told him to introduce himself to others.

     I do my best not to giggle at him because I know it would be rude. "Hi, Sutter. I'm Lillian Mae Matthews, but I only like to be called Lilly. And I'm 5 and a half too." Not really but I don't want him to think he's older than me, I just turned 5 not too long ago.

     He smiles a shy smile at me, and I notice then that he has a little gap between his front teeth. He also has brown curly hair, the brightest green eyes I've ever seen, and round chubby cheeks. He's very handsome.

     I notice he's looking down at my bike. "Wow, you ride with no training wheels?" He asks, sounding impressed.

      "Yeah, my dad told me I couldn't ride a bike unless I rode it like a big girl. I never got the training wheels."

     "Whoa, think you could teach me?" He looks down at his training wheels and I can tell he's embarrassed that he still has them.

     "Of course I will. When can we start?" I'm excited to play with a new friend, especially one as cute as he is.

     "Probably not today because my mom says I have to unpack all my boxes for my room," he rolls his eyes dramatically. "But what about tomorrow? We can meet at this same spot, and then maybe we can eat some lunch at my house?"

     "Sounds good to me." I say softly, afraid if I say anything else it'll take this happiness away from me.

     I turn my bike around and start to ride back to my house.

     "Hey Lilly!" I hear Sutter yell.

     I stop my bike and turn my head to face him. "Yeah?"

     "Think you would want to be my best friend? I don't want to start kindergarten with no friends."

     I feel my heart swell, but also remember that I already have a best friend, and she would sure be mad if I traded her in.

     "I already have a best friend who's a girl," I start to tell him, but notice his face falls with this news. And I'd do anything to not make him sad, so I try to make it better. "But you can be my boy best friend?" I offer instead.

     His smile lights his face up again and I know I've said the right thing.

     "Yeah, that sounds good to me. Maybe we can all be best friends." He waves one last time and turns around to go back to his house.

    I start riding my bike again, but this time I don't feel as happy and I realize what's wrong.

     I only want him to have one best friend. Me. -

   When I finally snap back into reality, I realize i've already drove the whole way to work and don't even remember the drive over. I take a deep breath to try and control the suffocating sensation that now rages inside me.

   Anytime I think about Sutter and how things used to be, that's what it does to me. I feel like i'm drowning. Drowning in old memories and feelings of him that just won't stop coming. The smallest, most inconsequential thing can happen, but it'll rip me back in time and with a boy who used to love me the way I loved him.

    Still love him, who am I kidding. Loving someone unconditionally, despite all the terrible things they have done to you, is one of the worst feelings. I think it hurts even worse that he did used to love me that way, but then he just stopped. I understand what happened to us is something that people go crazy over, and I'm probably that too, but I don't think there is anything in this world that could ever convince me to stop loving Sutter Mayfield.

     Not even him leaving me and telling me I'm not the mother of his child anymore.

    He used to love me in a way that girls dream about when they're young. The type of love you see in movies, and read in stories. Before we got pregnant, he used to sneak over to my house almost every night, and crawl through my window so he could sleep next to me every night. He would set his alarm for five AM, so he would leave and be back home before anyone noticed. And then when his mom would pick me up for school the next morning, he'd hop out of the backseat and say, "Sure has been a while since i've seen you ma'am, i've been missing you." And he'd give me this secret smile, because it hadn't been long at all.

     You don't realize just how much you'll miss something like that until it's not there anymore.

I shake my head to try and rid all my thoughts of him before I go into work and have to put on a brave face for all the people around me. I work in a popular restaurant in town that a lot of my classmates visit frequently. Denny always comes in on the nights I'm working too, and I know how pissy he gets when he realizes I'm still missing someone who's been gone for years now.

Don't worry, I get pissy with myself too. I used to wake up every morning and tell myself today would be the day that I would finally move on from loving Sutter, and I would move my life in the direction it was supposed to be moving in. But after months of none of that ever happening, I finally gave up and just used the next best option.

Alcohol.

To be completely honest though, I despised alcohol and the shitty people it turned us into. My dad being a prime candidate for what I mean. He's already an asshole when he's sober, but when he's drunk, he's cruel. He will say and do anything he can to upset you to the point where you have to walk away or you're going to hit him. And hitting him will only get me knocked on my back, so I've learned to just walk away. But alcohol for me is like a crutch to get me through this life I've learned to despise and resent.

I keep a mini bottle in my purse at all times and a huge bottle of vodka under my bed to help me sleep at night. To keep away the nightmares and the memories that plague me so badly sometimes I think they'll crush me. I all the time feel like I'm walking around with this extra weight on my back and shoulders, and that at anytime I could just collapse. I had this inkling of darkness snare up inside of me when my baby died, and it's just grown into something so monstrous and strong that I can't even control it anymore. And I don't want to.

Some days I think this may be my last day on earth, because there's no way any normal person could live in this much pain on a regular basis and be healthy. I think all the time about how much better things could be if I just ended it all. I could leave here and no one would even miss me, not really. I know my parents wouldn't, I've only ever been a nuisance to them and that'll never change. My friends may say they'll miss me, but they don't even know me anymore, so how can they?

I also think all the time that if I just ended it, I could finally hold her again. I could feel her little fingers curl around my larger ones, and smell her head that is the sweetest smell there ever has been.

But there is one thing that keeps me here and grounded to this earth, and he left me two years ago and never looked back to see what a mess he left me in. For some reason I keep hoping he'll come back, but I just know now that'll never happen. He really meant it that day he said he was leaving and would never come back for me.

Oh well, this is my life now. And I'll choose to destroy it as much as I need to, whatever it takes to get me through these days.

The only bad thing, is that even if I drink myself into such a stupor I can't even remember my own name, I can still see their faces as plain as day as if they were standing right in front of me.

     I wipe away the few treacherous tears that have escaped from my eyes, and check my lip and cheek one more time. I start patting on another layer of powder to try and hide the bruise that is now steadily forming on my cheek. I can't do anything about my lip though, I'll just have to make something up for that. I take one last breath to calm myself, and then push all my emotions to the back of my head and the bottom of my heart.

      I get out of my car and walk up to the entrance of the door, and as soon as I step over the threshold I'm greeted with many smiles and hellos, all the customers and my coworkers happy to see me. And I plaster a fake smile on my busted lip and wave back to everyone.

     And none of them can even tell just how broken I am on the inside.