You Got Me Read online

  You Got Me

  Mercy Amare

  Copyright © 2013 by Mercy Amare

  Cover designed by Sarah Hansen of http://OkayCreations.net

  Edited by Shane White

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, store in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any forms or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a review who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  If you are reading this book and you have no purchased or won it in an author/ published contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of its many distributors.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, place, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  More information can be found on the author's website: http://www.mercyamare.com

  ONE

  ROXY

  I looked around the all too familiar room, wishing that I was anywhere except for here. I waited, but no fairy godmother came, and unfortunately, I was once again reminded that this was real. These ugly, green walls were just a reminder of why my life was such a sad, fucked up mess.

  I allowed my eyes to glance at the oversized clock on the wall. It said 6:30, which meant I only had to be here another 30 minutes. It didn't surprise me that Dr. Lewis caught me looking.

  “No amount of time you spend in here is going to help unless you talk to me.”

  I know this. She said this every week, but I didn't want to talk to her, or anybody else for that matter. The pain was better left inside. If it wasn't for the pain, I would feel nothing. So, I held onto it with all of my strength. I was scared that if I let go, then I would have room to let other feelings in. It was the other feelings that scared me. I was familiar with pain. It was constant in my life.

  I hated coming to therapy. It felt wrong. It felt like I was admitting to the world that I am crazy, but I'm not. I don't belong here. I only come because my adoptive parents, Steve and Emily, want me to. So I do it for them, not for me.

  “I have nothing to say.” It was a lie. I had so much I could say, but I wasn't going to. Paying somebody to listen wasn't the same as them actually listening.

  “Have you made any friends?”

  “Not since you asked me 3 days ago,” I answered. The sarcasm was heavy in my voice. I didn't have friends, nor did I want any. People who got close to me had the ability to hurt me, therefore I pushed them away. I had felt enough pain to last a lifetime.

  “Have you tried conversing with anybody?” She knew the answer to the question before she asked.

  I counted to 30 before I answered. The more time I spent stalling, the less I actually had to talk. “Why talk to somebody else? Don't my parents pay you for that?”

  Dr. Lewis ignored my snarky comment and smiled. “You called them your parents, and not Steve and Emily like you normally do. Why is that?” That was a good question, but I had no clue why I did.

  I really liked Steve and Emily. Over the years, they are the only ones I've let get close to me, but even them I've kept at arms length. Not just to protect myself, but them too. I wasn't sure if crazy was hereditary, so I didn't take my chances.

  “You know, it's alright to let them in, Roxy. They are nothing like your biological mother.”

  No, they're definitely not, but I might be, and just the thought alone scared the shit out of me. “I know,” I said, agreeing with the last part of her statement.

  “Are you ready for you weekend challenge?” she asked, as our session came to a close.

  I nodded my head, too afraid to speak.

  Dr. Lewis liked to “challenge”, or “push” me. Every session, she gave me one thing to work on before the next session. Despite the fact that I hated it, I did it, because I wanted to get better. I was sick of coming here. I wanted to be normal.

  “Have a conversation with a stranger. Get to know them, find out their name, their dreams... find one positive thing about them.”

  I hated this challenge, and she knew it. I despised talking, even to people I know. Talking to a stranger was going to be hard, but I would do it. Only because I was scared that if I said no, I would be admitting to myself that I had given up. Giving up, no matter how much easier it would be, isn't in my nature.

  “Ok.” I said the same thing as I always did, and I walked out of the room without another word. There was somebody else sitting in the waiting room, but I didn't look up. I wondered about the person, though... Who they are, and what they've been through. I wondered if they've been hurt as badly as I have, or worse, though I wondered how anybody could survive if they were worse than me. I was barely hanging on by a thread as it is.

  AIDEN

  On Thursday night, I decided to make the 2 hour trip home. I had one class on Friday, Economics, which I hated anyway. Coach Smith canceled football practice, so there was really no reason for me to stay. Plus, I wanted to see my family. Aaron had been calling for the past 3 weeks begging me to come home for a visit. I couldn't tell my 7 year old brother “no” again.

  Every time I drove home, I prayed that my car would make the trip. It was on it's last leg, and the motor had been making a knocking sound for a while now. I had been looking for a part time job so I could save for a new car, or repairs, but between school and football it was hard to find time for a job. Nobody wanted to work around my crazy schedule. I was very grateful for the football scholarship I had received. Without it, I would not have been able to afford college.

  I pulled into Shady Grove Trailer Park. It was where I grew up in a single wide trailer. I knew everybody here. Mr. and Mrs. Sain were sitting outside in their lawn chairs. They waved at me as I drove by. Since leaving for Auburn, everybody treated me like a hero... Or a traitor, if they were a fan of Alabama. College football is kind of a big deal around here, and our small town is divided.

  When I pulled up in front of my momma's trailer, Aaron came running out. I got out of my car, held out my arms and gave him a big hug. When he stepped back, he was smiling.

  “You came!” He was excited.

  I smiled back. “I had to come see my favorite brother.”

  I grabbed my camouflage duffel bag off the passenger seat, and followed him inside. The wooden steps that once led into the trailer had rotted. They were now replaced with concrete blocks.

  “Where is Grace?” I asked, looking around the small trailer.

  “She's at her boyfriend's house,” Aaron replied, making a gagging noise.

  “Where's mom?”

  “She's sleepin'” he answered.

  I couldn't believe that Grace had left him here alone while mom was sleeping. I especially couldn't believe that she had a boyfriend, and she was at his house. She was too young to have a boyfriend, much less visit him at his home. Were his parents there?

  Suddenly, I heard mom's door open. When she stepped out, she looked half asleep. There were dark circles under her eyes, and I could tell she was exhausted.

  “I thought I heard you.” Her face lit up when she saw me. I walked over to her, and she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Why didn't you tell me you were comin'? I would've cooked supper.”

  I laughed as she scolded me. “That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you making a fuss over me.”

  “You're my son, and if I wanna make a fuss over you, I will.” She put her hands on her hips, but smiled, revealing some new laugh lines. I wondered how many hours she had been working. “I'm glad you're home.�
��

  The weekend went by much too fast, and I was sad when I had to leave on Sunday night. I hardly got to see Grace at all, she practically spent the whole weekend with her boyfriend. When I asked mom about it, she just shrugged.

  Mom worked a double shift on Saturday, so I mostly hung out with Aaron. It was fun. We watched cartoons, and I taught him how to catch a football. My heart melted when he told me that he wanted to play college football, like me. Since our own dad died, I was glad that I could be a role-model for him.

  I was relieved that my car made it back to campus without any problems, and I went straight to bed. Monday was going to come way too early.

  ROXY

  I had a really bad habit of writing on my arms when I was upset. I would take a black ink pen, and I write opposite of what I was feeling. It helped with my anxiety.

  “You're worthless,” I could hear my biological mother's voice in my head, so I wrote, 'I'm priceless'. “You're ugly.” 'I'm beautiful'. “You're stupid.” 'I'm smart'. I didn't have time to wash the black ink off my arm, so I went to class with it. Washing it off wouldn't do good anyway. I would just write it on there again later.

  I looked in the mirror one last time before heading to class. My wavy, black hair now hung halfway down my back. On the left side, I dyed a strip of it pink. It had been that way since I was 16. I liked it that way. It reminded me that I was no longer Emma Bradford. I was Roxy Gibson.

  My eyes were a weird mixture between gray and green, and they looked different every day, depending on what I was wearing. Today, they looked gray. I was wearing a short jean skirt, and a black tank top. I wore black a lot. Not because I was goth or emo, but because I liked the color. Plus, it looked good on me.

  Satisfied, I left for class, walking in at the last possible minute. I took a seat near the back. I always came in late to avoid conversation.

  I thought about Dr. Lewis' weekend challenge and cringed. I would be going there later that night, and I still hadn't talked to anybody. But I would. After my last class, I would find somebody to talk to.

  I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. What did I get myself into?

  5 hours later, I walked into a very crowded campus coffee house. I was having second thoughts about the challenge. I considered turning around and leaving. I would just tell Dr. Lewis that I couldn't do it... But I hated the thought of failing.

  I can do this, I told myself. You are not a quitter.

  I slowly walked up to the counter, deliberately taking my time. The more time it took them to make my coffee, the more time I had to stall. However, it was all in vain. I came here often, so they knew my order. They had it waiting for me when I got to the counter. I paid for it and sat down at a vacant booth.

  “Don't be chicken,” I whispered to myself as I took a sip of coffee, but I didn't move. As my coffee dwindled down, so did my opportunity.

  I can't do this. I turned and walked out of the coffee shop, deciding that this wasn't working. It was a terrible idea.

  I tossed my coffee into the trash can, and ran to my dorm room. I grabbed my notebook and acoustic guitar, and then headed towards my favorite spot on campus... the roof. Nobody ever came up there, and I needed some time to myself.

  AIDEN

  After my last class of the day, I headed back to my dorm room. When I got there, a sock was tied around the doorknob, which meant my roommate, Gary, had a girl over. I wasn't really surprised, he was frequently getting laid, but today I was annoyed. I really wanted in my room. I needed quiet.

  I decided to head up to the roof. I often went up there when I couldn't go to my room. Nobody was ever up there, and the solitude was kind of nice.

  I had 2 hours until football practice, which gave me just enough time to finish my homework. Hopefully Gary wouldn't bring anymore girls back after that so I could actually get some sleep tonight.

  When I opened the door to go out on the roof, I heard music. At first I thought it was a radio, but then I saw a girl from behind. She was sitting with her legs crossed, playing an acoustic guitar. I didn't want to eavesdrop, but I couldn't turn away.

  In your eyes, I'll never be right

  The demons inside, they eat me alive

  The pain I feel, reminds me of you

  This monster I am, it's because of you

  I'll never be ok

  I'll never be alright

  I wish somebody could heal me

  I wish somebody would save me

  I don't wanna be a monster

  But I'll always be a monster

  Her lyrics were very dark, but there was so much emotion in her voice. I had a sudden urge to talk to her. I needed to know who it was singing.

  I walked up behind her, and she jumped when she saw my shadow.

  “I didn't mean to scare you,” I told her, as she looked up at me. “I'm Aiden.”

  She stared up at me for a moment, not saying a word. The pain in her smoky green eyes were evident, and I wondered who had hurt her so badly. On her left arm, there were words written in black ink, but they were too small to read. She had a strip of pink on the right side of her hair, and I liked it. It suited her.

  It took the girl almost a full minute, but finally, she spoke back. “I'm Roxy.” I decided her voice was just as beautiful as the rest of her.

  “Do you come here often?” I asked, and she actually laughed. I blushed when I realized I had just used the cheesiest pickup line ever. “That was cheesy. I'm sorry. Let's start over.” I stuck out my hand. “I'm Aiden.”

  “Hello, Aiden. I'm Roxy.” She accepted my handshake. When she did, I looked at the writing on her arm.

  I'm priceless. I'm beautiful. I'm smart. The words were written over and over again. Around the writing, her skin was bright pink, and I could tell she must have pressed down really hard when she wrote it. Quickly, she pulled back her arm.

  “I should probably go,” she said, putting away her guitar.

  “Don't go. Please. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

  She turned towards me again. Her guitar was sitting inside the case, but it wasn't in her hand. I was relieved that she wasn't leaving. I didn't know why it was so important to get her to stay, but it was. I had to know more about her.

  “Do you want to go get some coffee?” I asked.

  I could see the hesitation in her eyes, but she said, “Sure.”

  TWO

  ROXY

  “Back again?” April, the blonde girl working at the coffee house asked. She was used to me coming in 4 or more times a day. She handed me my coffee, and then turned towards Aiden to get his order.

  After paying, we went and sat down. It was emptier than it was earlier, which made me glad. It always made me uncomfortable to be in a crowded place for too long. We sat at a booth in the back, far away from the door. That made me feel uneasy, but I tried not to let it show. I couldn't help but be anxious. I did not want to be here. I just wanted this stupid challenge to be over with.

  “How long have you played guitar?” Aiden was the one to start off the conversation. I was annoyed. I was supposed to be the one asking questions, not him.

  “Three years. I started playing when I was 16. I spent four months in the hospital, and I was bored a lot,” I answered.

  “Why were you in the hospital?” he asked.

  Oops. “Umm...” I shook my head. “I don't really want to talk about it.” I paused for a second. “What about you? What do you... umm... do?” I wasn't really sure how to have a conversation with somebody that wasn't Steve and Emily, or my shrink. I knew that I had made it awkward. I definitely needed to work on my people skills. He didn't seem to mind, though.

  “I play football. I am here on a scholarship,” he answered.

  I mentally rolled my eyes, and forced a smile. Of course he's a jock. Nobody was naturally that muscular. “What position?” I asked, remembering the challenge. I really didn't care.

  “Wide receiver,” he answered. I could hear the pride in his voice, and it wa
s obvious that he was very proud of his accomplishment. “Are you here on a scholarship?”

  I shook my head. “My grades were barely good enough to come here. I'm sure I would have gotten rejected, but Steve... or umm... my... dad... he's an affiliate. I think they let me in because of him. He's paying for my tuition. I used to struggled a lot in high school, with my grades.”

  I wanted to smack myself. Why was I telling this stranger about me? I was supposed to be asking about him.

  “What's your major?” I asked quickly before he could respond to my ramble.

  “Math, with a minor in education,” he answered. “I love math, and eventually want to be a teacher.” His blue eyes met mine, and I swear my heart sped up. I hoped that I wasn't about to have a panic attack. “What's your major?”

  “Social work,” I answered, easily. I've known what I wanted to be ever since I was 16, and I was very confident with my decision.

  “Wow, that's a rough field,” he commented. “I would be depressed, working with troubled kids like that.”

  I nodded, looking away. If he only knew I was one of those troubled kids. “I want to make a difference.”

  “What made you choose that field?” he asked.

  I cleared my throat. There was no way I could answer that question, so I decided to change the subject. “Where are you from?”

  “Heart, Alabama,” he answered, proudly. “What about you?”

  “Chicago.” Geez, my mouth needed a filter. “I moved to southern Alabama with Steve and Emily... or... er... mom and dad... when I was 17. It's where my dad is from.”

  “Wow, Chicago,” his eyes lit up. “Do you miss it?”

  “No.” I loathed everything about my life in Chicago. I never wanted to go back there, ever again. Not that I could tell him that.

  “I don't blame you. The Cubs kind of suck,” he joked. The conversation was getting heavy, and was making me feel awkward. I was glad that he lightened it up. “Do you visit your parents often?”