Behind Your Walls

01 | the boy on the bus

A M A Y A

He hit her again.

There is a thick line of black over one side of Mom's cheek. It contrasts with the fair ivory of her skin and her red hair makes little to no attempt to hide it. It is the mark left by his leather belt.

Mom sees me looking at it and quickly covers the mark with her hand, throwing me a smile as she hides her pain. I gulp at the realization and look at the man sitting at the head of the table and turning his newspaper leisurely. His face is rugged and his clothes are dirty with the slime of his sins. He has a lip ring and he chews on it as he reads the paper disinterestedly.

He doesn't notice my fingers curl around my fork, ready to dive it into his throat anytime. I feel a hand over my own and look to see mom reaching from the other side of the table to give me a squeeze of warning. She moves her head, indicating me to calm down and I reluctantly return her smile with a much smaller one.

"Why is this coffee cold?"

The words spoken in that ominous tone make us both jump and look at Panther. My stepdad's eyes are now on us and I can see a vein in his forehead ready to pop.

"I served it hot," Mom says and then bites her tongue when she realizes her mistake.

Panther's fists curl and he stands up suddenly, making the table shake. I cover my mouth with my hands as the jug of orange juice drops to the floor but before I can react, Panther is beside Mom, grabbing her by her hair.

"HOW DARE YOU TALK BACK TO ME!?"

"Hey! Let her go," I shout and Panther glares at me.

"Shut up. This is between me and your mom," he seethes.

I let out a soft scream when he lets go of Mom's hair with a jerk and she hits the wall behind her, falling to the ground.

"Mom!"

"I'm fine," she groans, holding her head and closing her eyes.

She corrects herself and gives Panther an apologetic smile before pulling herself up. Her entire frame shakes but the smile on her face doesn't disappear.

"You're late for the bus. Go or you'll miss it," she reminds me as if she has accepted that what just happened was something she deserved.

I stay rooted to my spot, trembling at the thought of what will happen if I leave her alone to face this monster but she narrows her eyes, a warning for me to run while I have time. Hesitantly, I pick up my bag from beside my chair and pull the straps over my shoulders.

'Take care'— I mouth to her before I turn around and rush out of the door.

It is not until I have crossed the gate of the house that I hear the clash of utensils from inside and whisper a silent prayer to God to keep mom safe.

***

"Dickson got dumped by the nerd!" some weirdo in the school bus shouts suddenly and all the passengers turn around to look at Kyle Dickson, the national bully of our local school.

They gaze at him with expressions of surprise and bewilderment, like somehow the universe has deemed it impossible for Kyle to get dumped. I don't look around to see what happens next but the sound of a 'thud', followed by an 'ahh' makes it pretty clear that someone just got their nose broken by Kyle. I roll my eyes as the students around me cheer for both the boys to fight one another, the only sounds interrupting their cheers being the horns from the bad traffic on the road.

The bus comes to a sudden halt which stops the shouts for a few moments. Everyone is quiet again as they watch the door for the everyday enigma to step in. He soon does and for the first time in the last month, I dare to stare at him in public.

Carter Bell is wearing a pale blue shirt and black jeans today paired with a pair of red converses. His tall frame slips through the door, dangling a bag on one shoulder as he stands at the front. His eyes move around looking for a seat while I take the time to appreciate the way he was created by God.

He is above six feet with a muscular body devoid of any extra amount of fat. His face is a perfect oval with sharp edges and his black hair has its usual messy style because he keeps running his fingers through them. I shouldn't notice these details but I unfortunately do.

Carter is a new transfer at Woodstone High and ever since His Majesty decided to welcome himself into the principal's office without knocking at the door first and then got suspended for a week, he has been the newest bad boy title owner. He doesn't have friends nor does he attempt to make any. He is often missing for days and returns with a black eye now and then. He never replies to any of the questions thrown at him by the teachers and he hardly talks to someone else.

The one time he decided to open his mouth to ask Lucy (aka the girl who dumped Kyle Dickson) for a pencil, she had screamed and crossed her fingers to drive him away.

Other than that, from what I have heard, he only makes himself known when the high schoolers throw a party now and then. According to Cherry Mariana — the cheerleader — he is there only for free drinks and one-night stands. Cherry had decided to add the fact that he 'knows his way around girls'. I have no idea if she meant it metaphorically or literally but I have to agree with her on the fact that Carter's mouth is a naturally gifted one. the plump lips not lacking any of the Greek features that only a few are lucky to be blessed with and his eyes...are boring down on me.

I blink and tear my sight of him as I feel my cheeks warm up. The one time I had chosen to admire him in public is the one time he spotted me doing that. I close my eyes and try to think of something else but the presence of someone beside me pulls me back to reality. The bus starts again and the chaos in it thrums to life once more. I look up to see Carter leaning against my seat. He lifts a finger and points to the empty window seat by my side. I shrug, pretending to not understand that he wants me to move.

He frowns and to my shock, one of his hands moves to the side of my waist. His palm presses against the material of my T-shirt and I am pushed off my seat to the other one very smoothly, with no effort. I stare at him agape as he takes my previous seat and pulls out his earphones from his pocket. I blink and look to my right only to feel the rush of air on my face through the open window.

What the fuck?

I look back at Carter only to find his eyes closed and his feet lifted on the backrest of the seat in front of us. The person occupying the seat, Devon Moors, looks through the space in between and grits his teeth at me.

What did I do?

"That's very rude, you know?" I say.

His eyes snap open and the pupils flicker to me like I have grown two heads. I feel my body warm up as he takes a second to check me out from top to bottom. Maintaining a firm face has never felt so difficult.

Sitting this close to him, I can see the color of his eyes perfectly. They are green and the way they move over my body again, makes me feel self-conscious enough to pull my feet up to rest on my seat and pull my knees to my chest.

"Stop staring! That's rude too."

He meets my eyes again and then I feel his gaze on my lips for a fleeting second, making me bite my bottom lip involuntarily. He seems to be trying to find a solution to something because the frown is back. He pulls out his earphones and leans in closer until hardly an inch separates us.

"You can speak?"