Choosing Us: The Pierced Hearts Duet: Book One Page 8

  Plain and simple.

  If he thought an insult was going to make me run for the hills, he had another thing coming. The boy was in for a rude awakening, and I had no problem being the one who delivered it.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  The loud knocking from the other side of the door, tore me away from my thoughts.

  Followed by Danté shouting, “Camila! Open up!”

  “Sean out there with you?”

  “Gurl, you know I don’t fuck wit’ Sean! Open the damn door, I got somethin’ to show you.”

  I rolled my eyes, getting up to open it. Danté quickly strolled inside, turning to face me when I closed the door behind him.

  “Camila, mamita, you know you’re shakin’ dat ass on YouTube?”

  “What?” I scoffed, confused.

  “You heard me.” He showed me the screen on his phone. “See for yourself.”

  My mouth dropped open, witnessing with my own two eyes my dancing from this afternoon. Titled, “Nannies Gone Wild.”

  “That little shit!” I snarled, snatching the phone out of his grasp.

  For the next ten minutes, I watched in complete disbelief how much Jackson recorded. The worst part was the video already had thousands of views in the matter of a few hours.

  “I’m going to strangle him! Be patient, my ass!”

  Danté chuckled, “Look on the bright side, at least you look good shakin’ dat ass! You’re like a ho turned into a housewife. I mean damn, gurl, you on point with dem moves.”

  “Danté…”

  “I’m serious. Think ’bout all the tips you gonna get at my club now. Honey, you good for business.”

  “That’s if Dr. Pierce doesn’t fire me first.”

  “If you get fired, it ain’t gonna be ‘cuz of Dr. Pierce,” he mumbled under his breath. “Just sayin’.”

  “Oh my God.” I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Mrs. Pierce is going to be the one who fires me, isn’t she?”

  “I mean … weren’t you tellin’ me last night that neither of them are around? Maybe they won’t see it. But if they do…” He shrugged. “Doctor Daddy gonna be savin’ this for his spank bank later. Best believe that, mamita.”

  “Eww!”

  “Camila, why you messin’ wit’ me? You know I Googled his ass. That man fine. Quit playin’ like you haven’t noticed how fine that man is.”

  Of course, his nosy ass would have snooped. “Thanks for invading my privacy.”

  “There’s no privacy among besties. We family, for life.”

  “Shit…” I fell back onto my couch. “What do I do now?”

  He fell beside me on the sofa, tugging me to his side. “First, the video is not that bad, I’m just playin’ wit’ you. But for real, just to be one hundred wit’ you, those boys are watchin’ way worse on their phones than just you dancin’ around.”

  “Gross.”

  “They’re boys.”

  “Enough said.”

  “Camila, mamita, first lesson of thinkin’ like a punk ass kid is that boy be tryin’ to hold one over you. So, beat him at his own game.”

  “You mean…”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Come on, honey, lets show him who he’s workin’ wit’.”

  Waking up bright and early the next morning, I made it to his bus stop with plenty of time to spare, so I could chat with my new pain in the ass.

  “Jackson!” I hollered, dragging his attention from his friends.

  “Ooooohhhh weeee!” they chanted and cheered, noticing immediately who I was.

  Boys.

  Jackson was the only one who seemed genuinely caught off guard by me standing several feet away from them. Putting enough distance between us to confront him in private. They were all proudly wearing football jerseys, thinking they were the shit.

  Ah, so Jackson was a football star…

  The little shit smirked as if he could read my mind while eyeing a girl around his age who was standing with her own friends, further away from him. He arrogantly winked at her before making his way over to me with the same swagger of a man.

  Was he trying to make her jealous?

  With me?

  What the hell was that?

  When he greeted me a little too loudly with, “Hey, baby, you here to dance for me and my friends?” I knew exactly what he was trying to pull.

  “Why don’t you show them the moves you’ve been perfecting with Dance Revolution on your Xbox.”

  His eyes widened, and his face turned a bright shade of red.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that a secret? Jackson if you needed dance lessons you could have just asked me. No need to film me to learn a few moves.”

  “Shut up,” he warned under his breath.

  “But, Jackson? What am I going to do with this new dance footage I have for you?” I didn’t have any new footage for him, but he didn’t have to know that. “I’m only trying to help you find the rhythm you’re obviously lacking based on the level your game is at. Beginners 101—”

  He stepped toward me. “I mean it, shut your mouth, Camila.”

  “Oh, so you do know my name?” I replied in a much softer tone. “I couldn’t tell with how many times you called me Mary Poppins in the comments section.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Take the video down or I’ll out you to your friends with how many dancing games you really do have.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Hey, guys—”

  “They were my mom’s,” he interrupted, rendering me speechless. “I’ll take it down, alright? Now leave.”

  “Jackson, did you just say they were your mom’s?”

  “I said, leave. You don’t know shit.”

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Then why don’t you go shake your ass on a pole where you belong, instead of at my house where nobody wants you.”

  I frowned, unable to form words. Swallowing hard, I watched him walk away. Feeling at a loss.

  Jackson: 1

  Me: 0

  I spent the rest of the day feeling like the piece of shit he wanted me to feel like. Focusing only on what he said to me.

  “They were my mom’s.”

  Chapter 9

  <>Aiden<>

  Then: Almost twelve-years-old

  __________

  “Get out of here, you little shit!” Mr. Byron shouted, slamming his fists down on the dining room table near five-year-old Nathan, making Bailey jump out of her skin.

  I tried not to let it get to me, needing to stay strong for her. It was the only thing I had to offer. It was always the only thing I had to give her.

  No one wanted us.

  No one loved us.

  No one protected us.

  All we had was each other.

  I hugged her, bringing her closer to my body.

  Harder.

  Tighter.

  Firmer.

  Needing to have her heartbeat next time to mine. It was the only time I knew we were alive.

  She struggled to breathe.

  To see.

  To feel me against her.

  “Bailey, please … it’s going to be alright.”

  She cried, breaking apart in my arms.

  “Boy, don’t make me tell you again! Get the fuck out of my sight, before I show you who’s boss around here!”

  “Byron! Just leave—”

  “You stupid bitch! Did I tell you to move? Did I give you permission to say a damn thing?”

  “Byron, please calm down,” his wife, Carly, whimpered.

  I knew he wouldn’t grant her any mercy, he never granted anyone mercy. Not even innocent kids.

  We sank back further into the closet we were hiding in together. All the way back in the darkness shielded by stale-smelling clothes and coats, where no one could find us. It had become our favorite hiding spot, pretending we were the kids in the wardrobe from the book The Chronicles of Narnia, we read in Mrs. Jenner’s fifth grade
class. Praying to be transported anywhere but here when Mr. Byron drank too much. The second he started yelling and hitting anyone in his sight.

  We hated him.

  The man was an asshole who was never nice to any of us. All he did was sit on his lazy ass, day in and day out, barking orders at his wife with a twelve pack of beer always close by his side.

  The house was old and falling apart and smelled like dirty socks and moldy food all the time. We never understood why they kept taking in more kids if he didn’t want us there to begin with.

  Being in the system for the last four years was a living, breathing nightmare that held us hostage against our will. Where we could never escape, never fully wake up, never get a moment of peace.

  To speak our minds.

  To have a say.

  To know someone was on our side.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Bay. I promise.”

  “Stop it!” Carly screeched, her voice laced with terror and defeat.

  “Cover your ears,” I ordered her. “Like I showed you.”

  “Fuck you!” he roared, calling her every name in the book. The sound of dishes breaking on the tile floor followed by ear-piercing screams filled the small space.

  I never covered my ears like I made Bailey. I needed to hear, to make sure what his next move would be to keep us both safe. I heard it all.

  Every vicious word.

  Every blow to their bodies.

  Every whimper.

  Every sob.

  Every time they begged, pleaded, prayed to God to make him stop.

  “He’s hurting her, Aiden. He’s really hurting her this time.”

  “I know. It’ll be over soon. Just hold on for a few more minutes, okay? Go to your happy place.”

  We’d been living with the Byrons for the past year. Before them, it was another shitty family, the Smiths. Before the Smiths, it was the Hunters, and the list went on with how many shitty families we’d been placed with.

  Moved without notice, each time praying we’d hit the lottery of foster homes and get a decent family who’d love us, or at least care.

  It wasn’t all that bad. Misty was always able to pull some strings to place Bailey and me in the same temporary homes, which was all we wanted.

  In four years, we’d been placed in six different foster homes and five different schools.

  The foster parents who were supposed to be taking care of us never did.

  They drank.

  They smoked.

  They did drugs instead.

  Someone should have done something, but no one ever did.

  We never told Misty or any of the other kids’ caseworkers what we saw, or what was actually happening in these homes they believed were safe. Pretending as if life was perfect anytime someone stopped by to check on us. Terrified if we did tell them the truth, they’d split us up.

  Each time they moved us, Bailey and I shared the only black trash bag we owned. Not having any proper luggage to go house to house to house in.

  Each time they moved us, not all our stuff went with us. Most of our hand-me-downs got left behind for the next kid to wear them.

  Each time they moved us, we lost a little more hope, a little more of our dreams, a little more…

  Everything.

  No one to tell us “I love you.”

  No one to tell us “Happy birthday.”

  No one to tell us we were going to be okay.

  There was no one…

  But us.

  Our prized possessions never left that trash bag, afraid we wouldn’t be able to grab them in time when we were escorted out. My book, blanket and pillow, picture frame, and Bailey’s heart necklace were the only items that meant anything to us anyway.

  “Aiden, I’m scared,” Bailey whispered, breaking my heart a little more. “I’m really scared.”

  Even if we broke our silence, it wouldn’t change anything.

  They weren’t really there to see…

  Even if they asked.

  Even if they listened.

  They wouldn’t care about our story.

  They hadn’t seen what we’d seen.

  Heard what we’d heard.

  Felt what we’d felt.

  No one could truly understand what it was like for us, because at the end of the day…

  It wasn’t their problem, it was ours, and only ours. There were thousands of kids just like us, floating around the system. Waiting for a new mom and dad to choose them. Disappointed when the kid they shared a room with was picked over them. The truth was, the older you became the more hope of being adopted faded. You were the bottom of the barrel, being older secured us that spot.

  “You worthless piece of shi—”

  “Bay, guess what? I got an A on my math test,” I shared, distracting her from the reality of our life.

  “You did?” She sniffled, gazing up at me with hope in her eyes.

  “I did. You know what that means?”

  “You can test out of sixth grade math now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. So now I’m closer to finishing school and can take care of us quicker.”

  “You swear?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you. Ever. I’m going to buy us the house of your dreams one day, Bay.”

  “The one with the white picket fence and red door?”

  “That’s exactly the one. Your happy place.”

  “You promise, promise?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Can I plant a garden? One with only sunflowers?”

  “I’ll buy you every last sunflower I can find.”

  “Okay.” She smiled, as I wiped away her tears.

  She still looked so scared.

  I desperately tried to stay strong for her, ignoring the rambling and thrashing coming from the living room through the thin ass walls.

  Her arms wrapped around my neck so tightly, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like she wanted to give up. Bailey wasn’t as strong as I was, and it made everything that much harder on me. I had to be her rock in order for us to survive the outcome.

  “Why don’t they want us, Aiden? Why doesn’t anyone ever want us?”

  “I want you, Bailey. I want you.”

  “You promi—”

  BANG, BANG, BANG!

  “Police! Open up!”

  All the blood drained from my face, and my heart leapt up into my throat. There was no hiding it, not in a moment like this.

  “Aiden, what’s going on?”

  The front door crashed open, rattling the whole damn house. Boxes fell from the shelves above us, and heavy footsteps were heard clear as day.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” Mr. Byron lied through his teeth. It was exactly what it looked like.

  Someone must have called the cops.

  “Bailey, run!” I ordered, my voice rumbling in my head.

  “What? Why—”

  I threw open the closet doors just as all hell broke loose.

  “Oh fuck,” I heard one of the men, wearing an officer uniform, breathe out.

  He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us hiding in the closet.

  “They’re in here! Two of them are in here!” he shouted.

  “Bailey! Go! RUN!” I charged the officer, wanting her to get a head start.

  She didn’t move an inch, her feet glued to the floor beneath her. Watching the scene unfold in front of her fear-stricken eyes, witnessing yet another one of our worst nightmares.

  “AIDEN!” she screamed bloody murder as the officer held me back.

  My stomach dropped.

  My heart stopped.

  Waiting for the man I knew would appear.

  “Where’s Misty?! I want Misty!” I demanded, trying to fight him off.

  I caught sight of the black SUV through the front window. I fucking hated that car. Except, this time it wasn’t just one.

  There were two.

  Which only mean
t one thing.

  “NO!” I roared with every last piece of myself. “You can’t take her away from me!”

  I immediately thrashed my body back and forth and all around. Faster and faster. Feeling like I was about to snap.

  “It’s alright, we’re here to help. We’re here to help you!” the officer holding me captive voiced, but it didn’t mean a damn thing.

  I opened my eyes, taking a deep breath. My chest caving in on me. The expression on Bailey’s face was one I would never forget. My eyes slowly moved toward the front door, seeing not one but two large men enter the room along with two caseworkers I’d never seen, following close behind.

  It was only then that Bailey and I locked eyes, and she knew exactly what was about to go down.

  “NO!” Her scream mirrored my yell from seconds ago. Her voice resonating deep in my bones.

  She skidded on her knees, throwing her arms around my waist, and I swear to God, I never wanted to die more than I did in that moment.

  “Grab her!” the woman demanded, and the muscle went right to work.

  “No!” Bailey screamed as loud as she could when the man took ahold of her. Ripping her off me, putting up one hell of a fight.

  She kicked.

  She bawled.

  She fought.

  “Don’t take me away from Aiden! Please don’t take me away from him!”

  Tears flooded my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face.

  “Aiden, please! You promised! You promised me!”

  I had no control over my emotions, hitting, punching, pushing the officer restraining me as hard as I could. My body throbbed, my heart pounded, and my head started getting dizzy the more I put up a fight.

  “Son, calm down!” I heard the other woman say over the ringing in my ears.

  I fought with every ounce of strength I had left inside of my now hollow shell. Still holding onto the hope I’d see Bailey again.

  It was all I had left to hold onto.

  She was all I had left to hold onto.

  Everything else had been taken from me the same way she was being dragged out of the house.

  We both shoved, slapped, and hit the men holding us prisoner, wanting to hurt them as much as they were hurting us. Not paying any mind to the throbbing pain running through my body. It was nothing compared to the knife they were stabbing into my heart.

  He lifted her up into the air, tossing her over his shoulder. Bringing back flashes of me being taken away from my mother. Every emotion, every scar, every insecurity made its presence known for the millionth time in my life.