Born To Destroy

Chapter Three: Trust Issues

Bang.

"Shut up!"

Bang.

"Stupid bitch!"

Bang.

"Get out!"

Slam.

I sprinted out of my house up towards my safety, Patricia's house. Blood dripped down my nose and over my large, plump, pouty lips. I tasted a salty liquid as I dabbed my tongue on them; I wasn't sure if it was blood or the tears streaming down my face.

"Hey!" Brice pulled over in his beat up, black Sudan. He noticed blood splattered on my tan skin and quickly stepped out to hug me. "Hey," his voice quickly softened. "Hey what happened?"

I shook my head, my sobs barely allowed me to breathe let alone explain that my father had hit me from a drunken rage. Brice understood and just held me until I ran out of broken tears. I looked up at him still sniffling and smiled softly.

"It's okay, I'm here now," his voice was gentle and comforting. "I won't let them hurt you."

We sat on the curb by his car in silence for what seemed like eternity. I liked it because if you can be with someone in silence for a long time without it being awkward, it means you've found someone special. Brice had his strong arms around me and just gently stroked my back.

"So you're birthdays next week isn't it?" he spoke hesitantly, not wanting to break the peaceful silence.

In response I nodded quietly and looked down. I was never fond of my birthday, ever since I was little. Each year, something was bound to go wrong, whether it was one of my mom's "friends" making a scene, or my dad getting too drunk and ruining everything; I always ended up crying in the end. My birthday was never really a celebration, it was just another excuse for everyone to come together and speak their mind or get drunk.

"You don't seem to happy about that," he sighed catching the hints I dropped. "Why?"

"I-it's never been happy. My birthday is always shit," I tensed my body. Never have I told anyone about anything. I was always so bottled up. I was confused on why I was letting this person I just met in.

We continued to talk for the next half hour, mainly about what has happened in my traumatic life. Trusting someone with this information was always so difficult, however, talking to Brice made my fear go away. He actually understood me. He came from a broken home as well. His father drank and beat his mom and him. They never really acknowledged him unless he was in trouble. He has been through so much, things worse than I have, things that should never be said.

"You know," Brice began, "I've never been able to tell anyone about things. I've always had trust issues. Everyone's fake and just end up stabbing you in the back," he looked down and sighed.

"I wouldn't," I looked at him, eyes soft but filled with sadness. "I do whatever it takes to be there for someone. They end up taking it for granted though."

"Exactly, don't trust anyone Jen," he looked away. "Not even me."

I wanted to tell him that I do, but I just looked away and stayed quiet. For some reason I had finally found someone I could trust, someone who could understand what I have been through.

Was it the right choice?