Trade Mistakes

22

"Lizzie! Lizzie, come on!" I shouted, jogging to catch up to her. God, I'd never realized how fast she walked.

I put my hand on her shoulder, and when she turned around to face me, her mascara was trailing down her face in tear tracks.

"Glory, what's the matter, doll?" I asked.

"I- I don't like bein' around people when stuff like that is happening," she gasped. "I just- I- I can't, I can't, okay?"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," I said, hugging her. "It's okay."

"I don't like fights. I can't- I- I don't like them."

"Okay, no more fights, okay? No more fights," I said, leading her towards the car.

"You promise?"

"I promise. Do you want me to take you home?" I asked gently, and she nodded.

"I'm sorry, I ruined our night, didn't I?"

"No, that douchebag did." I said as I started the car. She reached over and held my hand.

Her hands were freezing, and mine were warm. She was always cold, no matter what season. Anytime I kissed her or touched her, her skin was cold.

I was the opposite. I was always hot, no matter what time of year. That's why I liked holding her so she much.

Lizzie's POV

"Do I look like I been crying? I don't think anyone's home, but I don't wanna be careless."

Mark frowned, observing my face. "No, you're alright, doll."

"Thanks, love."

He leaned over and kissed me. "You're welcome, baby. I'll see ya."

"Bye." I closed the car door behind me and went inside. "Hello?"

No one answered. I was home alone. I heard Mark's car pull out of the driveway and I rushed back outside.

"Hey, Mark! You up for doin' something else?" I called, and he stopped his car.

"Yeah, sure. Why the sudden change?"

I shrugged. "I don't want to be alone."

Mark smiled slightly and put an arm at my shoulders. "You wanna go to the beach? We can look at the stars."

"Yeah."

.

It was midnight, and we were lying on our backs in the sand and staring at the sky. Waves crashed against the shore, and the only light was from the full moon, hanging in the sky like a watchful silver eye.

Mark had stolen a case of beers, and we sipped those from time to time. I didn't like the way they tasted- they were bitter and moldy and made my stomach churn, but they made my head buzz and distracted me from the bad things I felt, so I kept drinking.

But I got tired of the taste after three drinks, so I stopped, but Mark kept drinking until he was completely drunk.

"Mark, I don't think I want you to drive me home." I said.

"Why?" He demanded.

"You're drunk. Drunk driving ain't such a good idea."

"No I ain't." He snapped. "I ain't drunk,"

I stood up and he grabbed my arms and gripped them so tight, I was sure there would be bruises. "Let me go." I said quietly.

"No. I think- I think you need to just shut up sometimes. I liked it better when you were quiet all the time. Now you just talk too much."

I didn't say anything.

"And I seen those cuts on your arms, you know." He slurred, letting me go and shoving me away. "Sometimes I wish you'd cut deeper."

Don't cry, Elizabeth. Don't cry.

"And I think your dad was right, you never shoulda been born at all." He laughed.

My face burned red and my eyes ached as I fought back tears.

He doesn't mean it. He's just drunk. He really doesn't mean it.

Mark hit me and my head whipped sideways. I shut my eyes tight and felt tears slowly trail down my face.

He just laughed as I walked away.

He didn't mean it, Lizzie. He was just drunk. He didn't mean it.

As I walked home, I had convinced myself that Mark really didn't mean it.

.

That was how it was for months. Mark would hit me and yell at me and he'd apologize the next day and say he didn't mean it.

The things he said to me started to get to me.

I'm useless. I shouldn't be alive. I'm a waste.

Every time after I would see him, I would have to get home fast to cover my cuts and bruises with concealer.

School started up again, and birthdays last, and it was my birthday before I knew it. I was fifteen.

My birthday was a Saturday that year, so I got to spend most of the day at home.

An excuse to stay away from Mark.

I wanted to break up with him, but I was scared of what he would do to me. I was scared to be around him.

On my birthday, I was the first person up. I didn't want to make breakfast, but I was scared someone would get mad if I didn't. So I did.

Since it was Saturday, anyway, I expected everyone to come over, so I had to make enough for seven people. I didn't want breakfast, so I didn't count myself.

"Happy birthday, kiddo." Soda yawned, kissing my forehead.

"Thanks," I said quietly. I'd started taking a lot quieter lately, and when people moved suddenly or too quickly, I flinched. I was terrified someone would realize that I'd been changing because of Mark.

Me and Soda were silent for awhile while I made breakfast. I set it on the table when it was finished, and by then, Darry was up and Steve and Johnny were already over.

By nine, everyone was awake and over. I was the only one outside. I was smoking and stressing about having to see Mark later that day.

It was starting to get cold, and I knew I technically needed a coat, but I figured I could go a few more weeks without one.

Johnny and Pony came outside a few minutes later, and the three of us were quiet, enjoying each other's company.