If I Stay✔️

95

trigger warning; mentions of abuse, sexual assault, drugs, m*rco, death, mental illness.

L E O

On the eve of my fourteenth birthday, Marco called me. I remember staring at the phone as it vibrated in my palm, feeling my skin grow damp with a nervous sweat as my mind ran haywire with a stream of possibilities.

I hadn't worked it out then; the fact that he was using me, manipulating me; twisting the tales of my hurt for his own monstrous gain. A naïve part of me still clung to the thought of him being my friend, my only confident. The one person I could open up to without fear of judgement because, no matter what I told him, how selfish or ridiculous it sounded, he always took my side.

They don't deserve you is what he'd say, caressing my cheek with the curve of his forefinger. I'd smile up at him despite my conscience telling me his statement was false. In truth, it felt like it was I who didn't deserve them.

It took me four rings to answer his call. My heart hammered in my throat as I gripped the phone tightly between my shaky fingers and raised it to my ear, mumbling a soft hello.

I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to me, not knowing then that his smile was anything but sweet. Behind the blindness of the barrier our cellphones provided, his smirk remained protected.

What's 'the club'? I remember asking, after he droned on about this forbidden place he was so desperate to take me to. He satisfied my thirteen (almost fourteen) year old mind's curiosity with a vague but reasonable response; claiming it was a birthday surprise.

I snuck out that night to meet him. The street lamps were lit, a sign that it was way past my curfew, casting a dull shadow to the sidewalk where I waited for his car to roll up.

The drive was filled with the same familiar silence, given I didn't have much going on in my life to share, at least, nothing he didn't already know. As for Marco? He was never much of a talker, not unless he was fuelled by substances to do so; they seemed to give him a different, more honest, kind of spark.

We drove down a dirt road for what felt like hours but was no more than twenty minutes at most. I remember peering out the window, feeling my heart plummet when I took in our surroundings. It seemed like we'd reached a dead end, the trees bunching together in a semicircle where the tarmac ended.

My eyes fell to my lap as I tried to control my rough breaths, as well as ignore the cruel words my mind screamed at me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The last time his car was parked in a place like this; hidden away in the trees just a stone throw away from our school...

"Come on," he had said to me, unclipping his seat belt before tapping his hand against my thigh. "We need to walk from here."

The pressure in my chest eased up and I found myself exhaling a relieved breath. I didn't say anything as we exited the car, already knowing my voice would come out raw and shaky. So I followed him wordlessly as he lead me into the darkness of the forrest.

"I think you're going to love this," he beamed at me, a glint of excitement lighting up in his eyes.

With a firm hand on my shoulder, he lead me into a building, one that was deep in the woods, surrounded by trees. The exterior was covered in moss and dirt, Ivy vines colouring the fractured cracks across the outer bricks. In short; the roof looked like it was seconds away from impaling on us, but that didn't make me want to retreat.