Author's Note: Sorry for promising to post it at the end of February and not following through. Life just got in the way again. Besides, I just had my birthday weekend and I was busy doing stuff for me with friends and family. I'm 18, guys! I'm so old. Anyway, here it is. I would've written more, but I didn't want you guys to wait any more than you have been doing.
Also, as you may have noticed, I raised the rating up to an M solely because of this chapter. Sorry to burst your bubble, but it's not because something happens between Chad and Sonny. I'm sorry for both not being able to handle writing smut and also for… well, this chapter. You'll find out soon enough.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine.
They ended up at one of the many condos that his family owned, right in the heart of Beverly Hills. The place was quite spacious, modern décor from the floor to the ceiling. Sonny honestly felt a bit out of place in her attire. She felt like she needed to be dressed to the nines when entering any place his family possessed.
The two of them sat themselves down on the large, chocolate leather sofa in the living room. Chad sat several inches away from her, leaning forward to place his head in his hands. He rubbed his temples, wishing the ache would just disappear. He was still a little irritated at Waltman's inconsiderate, blunt phrase. Who wouldn't be?
She didn't know what to do. He was obviously still ticked about what happened back at school, but she wasn't quite sure how deep his frustration ran.
"Do you mind telling me what's wrong?" she asked, biting her lip in anticipation.
Chad sat up, shaking his head. His eyes were downcast and his mouth was shut. His lips began to open and close several times, but he finally decided to keep it shut in a grim line. He couldn't. He'd explode again, and he didn't want to be the reason why she would cry once more. He vowed to himself that she would shed no more tears of sorrow, and he would make sure of that.
"It's just…" Oh no. He said something and can't take it back now. "Don't you trust me?"
"Of course I do. With all my heart."
"Then why is it I still don't know what forced you to stay silent for over two years?"
It was Sonny's turn to shut up.
"I'm your best friend, right? We're supposed to tell each other everything. We've been friends for a long time, but I feel like I don't know who you are sometimes. There's this large chunk in your life that I don't know about. You came back from Wisconsin as a changed person. You weren't smiling, you weren't cracking jokes, and most importantly of all, you weren't talking…to anyone. I just don't understand why you're keeping it from me."
Her eyes began to sting as his words forced her to think of her past. But he was right.
"It's not that I don't trust you enough to not tell you. I just…" She bit her lip, a tear falling from her right eye. She wiped it away with a single swipe, then sniffled. "I just don't want to alter your image of me. I feel like…if I tell you, I feel like you won't like me anymore. I feel like you'll shun me and walk away like everyone else. I know it's stupid – I've told myself that many times, but… that's why I've been putting it off as long as I could."
He stayed silent, not knowing what to say. He never really understood the severity of the situation. I mean, sure he knew that what happened was terrible enough to mute her, but knowing now that she feared his reaction to the story… That brings a whole different perspective into view. What happened damaged her, making her forget that he would—could never bring himself to judge her.
She took his silence negatively. She spoke fast, thinking that if she told him he'd be forgiving of why she decided to keep it from him. "It's not a very exciting story," she tried to explain. "It's actually very… depressing. Despite my intentions of forgetting it, it always comes up to the forefront of my mind almost every day. I get these horrible flashbacks that…"
She licked her lips her sighed in shame, "…that make me want to k-k-kill myself."
Sonny was having trouble admitting the truth. She felt incredibly raw and exposed. Chad was seeing an even terrifying part of her – one much more terrible than her past two years of complete quiet. And yet, she continued.
Mom let me head back home for winter vacation alone, and let me tell you… Things changed. The farm back home was nothing like I remembered. I mean, it was snowing and the white powder covered almost everything to the fields to the barn, but something was different. Ol' Betsy the family cow was nowhere to be seen. Hank, Trevor, and Marigold the landrace pigs were gone too. Our chickens Henrietta and Susan? Same.
Our animals were gone. The barn was a mess; the red pain was faded and chipped, the doors hanging by a single hinge. Old hat littered the stalls and rat droppings were scattered. It was like the farm animals every existed, but they did. I swear they did.
I felt myself begin to feel uneasy. What happened? Mom and I have just visited, maybe two-three years ago, and everything was going well then. I was confused as to where our precious animals went. I grabbed my luggage and walked to the house. My boots failed to protect my shins, the ice soaked into my jeans and my legs began to go numb from the cold. Knocking on the door of our front porch, I was expecting to see Nana greet me with a warm hug. Instead, I was face to face with my father.
I hadn't seen him since I was maybe six years old, but I could recognize that face anywhere. He and mom weren't together long enough to get married. The single time I asked her why it was they split, she pressed her mouth into a firm line and stared at me with an emotion I couldn't identify. She then told me, "I'll tell you when you're older." I was twelve then.
"Allison!" Dad greeted with an overly large smile on his face. "What a great surprise!"
He pulled me into a hug and I was hit with an overwhelming strong odor. I knew immediately that the stench was hard liquor. He'd been drinking only minutes before he came to answer the door.
"Dad…" I honestly did not know what to say to him. I hadn't had a real conversation with him ever in my life. "Where's Nana?"
I pulled away, my nose wrinkling slightly in disgust.
He laughed, flashing his slightly yellowed smile at me. We had the same shaped teeth. "Oh, don't worry about her. I sent her and your grandfather on a three-month cruise from Northern Europe to the western Mediterranean about a month ago. They should be heading towards Stockholm right now."
"Oh." I didn't understand why he'd do that without informing mom and me, but I ignored the action. "Okay, well, I'll be home for a week. Can I stay here?"
"Sure you can, Allison. There's already a room ready for you."
He led me inside the house, taking me upstairs. The floorboards creaked as we walked on them, and I noticed that there were about twelve empty, glass liquor bottles littering the hallways, pushed up against the walls. We came to a stop in front of my old bedroom door. Old butterfly stickers were pasted below the doorknob from when I placed them as a little girl. They were cracked and faded.
He opened the door, exposing my childhood bedroom.
"Well, it's around seven now. Have you had any dinner? Are you hungry?"
I shook my head to both questions.
"Leave your stuff here and come downstairs." Then he turned his back and walked away, whistling a familiar tune. I'm sure it was "Good Girls Don't" by the Knacks.
I did as I was told and followed him into the kitchen. He pulled two beers from the fridge, popping the cap off one of them and handing it to me.
I shook my head vigorously, "Dad, I can't. I'm only fourteen."
He shrugged, "So? A lot of kids these days, who by the way are a lot younger, are doing worse. Just try it."
I hesitantly took it, looking around to see if this was some sort of cruel trick or if he was testing my morals. I took a sip, the bitter taste burning my tongue. I coughed as it went down and he laughed, pounding his hand across my back. Popping the bottle cap off his, he took a swig, effectively draining a third of the bottle.
"Atta girl," he said, walking away into the living room. A moment later, I heard the television set go on, blaring the cheers from fans and the announcer of a football game.
I shuffled into the room to join him, bottle pressed stiffly against my leg. Taking a seat on the couch, I stared mindlessly at the screen. I gripped the cold glass in my hands, not quite sure what to do with myself. Was he expecting me to finish it? I took a bigger drink, the bitter liquid filling every nook and cranny in my mouth. It hurt to go down, but at least a quarter of it was gone. Wanting it to disappear faster, I brought the bottle back to my lips and chugged it down. I felt a brain freeze come along, so I put the bottle down next to my foot and grasped my head in my hands.
I was already starting to feel funny, and I wasn't sure if that was normal to feel it so quickly. It was an odd sensation and I wasn't sure if I liked it.
"I think I'm going to turn in early," I said. I wanted to sleep this feeling off. My forehead began to sweat and my head began to ache. I really shouldn't have drunk any of it, and I definitely wished I had not given into the pressure of being polite when something like that was offered to me. I noisily clambered my way up the stairs and made myself up to my room. I collapsed into a tired heap on the mattress, the old springs bouncing and squealing from my weight. I was out in seconds.
I began to stir when I felt myself being moved. I lazily opened my eyes to see a large shadow hovering over me. Goosebumps rose on my upper thighs near my pelvic area, and travelled downwards as my jeans were slowly being pulled off. This wasn't right. I jolted awake as I realized this and gave a startled yelp. A large, calloused hand smacked itself over my mouth, preventing me from making another clear sound. I tried to wriggle myself out of his hold, but he was too heavy for me.
"Shh, Allison, it's alright," Dad whispered, slipping the denim off my legs. "I won't hurt you, so you'll be fine."