The Pretend To Be Agreement

Chapter Six

Will

I pace back and forth in the hallway of my apartment, my feet slapping against the hard wooden floor. My hand was in my hair, running through it, tugging on the ends in stress.

"Will, what was I supposed to say? Was I to tell your mother that I'm just some chick that you met two weeks ago on the street?" Grace says, trying to defend herself.

With my eyes I glance up at her, watching her as I stopped pacing. The first thing I notice when I look at her is that her eyes were red and glassy from tears that she had cried, and the guilty sag of her shoulders was very present. I knew this position very well; my mother could be intimating at times, but she only wants best for her children. But, right now, I saw the part of Grace that was vulnerable. Flawed. And, even, possibly, corrupted in ways long past repair.

Because the woman in front of me right now wasn't the sarcastic, witty, hardass I had met on the street and accused of taking of photo of me. No, this was a woman who's been through years worth of pain and heart break. Masking herself as this confident, strong person -- which she is. This was the exact same woman who had a comeback for every insult, every accusation, and anything in between for what I could ever say to her.

Right now, I still saw the strong, confident individual she was, but it didn't stop me from rushing over to her and wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her into my chest for a hug. She gladly accepted, wrapping her own arms around my neck. I kneel down on my knees so Grace had better access to hug me. Squeezing her tightly, I maneuver her so she was in my arms bridal style while I walked over to the couch in my small living room.

When seated, I was going to let her go, but she clung onto me like her life depended on it. So, I didn't let go, nor did I complain when she leaves her head down on my shoulder and cried, whimpering out apologizes that weren't needed. With my hand I rub her back, trying to sooth and calm her down at the same time. I was doing my best to comfort her -- which really wasn't something I was good at.

Never in my life have I had to hold a crying female in my arms, unless that particular female was Samantha. I had Sam to thank for in this moment for all the girly things she made me sit through. It all reminded me of how when I was thirteen and she was eight she made me play Barbie's with her, or when I was seventeen she made me go buy pads for her because she had just hit puberty. I had swore the day she was born that was I was going to look after, make sure she got whatever needed or wanted, and never got hurt.

But, the 'she's never going to get hurt on my watch' part ended the day she was raped. The painful memory of her phoning me from a pay phone flashed before my eyes, and I could still recall the way she sobbed.

"Hey, dude are you going to get that?" Asks a shouting Jordan, my best friend since preschool.

I try not to look at him, doing my best to ignore the house phone ringing in the back ground so I could finish the level I was on. 

But that idea went straight down the toilet when I see Jordan holding out the phone in his hand, an extreme worried expression on his face.

I immediately drop the controller when I see who's caller ID is flashing on the phone screen. Rudely, I snatch the phone out of his grasp and bring it to my ear. When it's pressed to my ear all I hear is loud, sad ridden sobs coming through the line.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" I ask, panic clear as day in my voice.

Just by the way her breathing hitches at the sound of my voice I knew what she was going to say was going to terrify me in way I could never forget.

"W-Will... I don't remember...," my baby sister cries out in despiar, "I don't remember a damn thing."

It wasn't until later on had I realized what had happened to her until I picked her up. It slapped me right in the face. Hard.