Chapter Four

Rafe

That night I ward off the headache demons with a nice ambien-percocet-scotch cocktail. If the nurse bitch next door has a problem with that, she can go fuck herself. That little washcloth ice pack she made just isn’t cutting it anymore.

Talking to Murph about Shelby and my time in Newport only seemed to stir up the memories a little bit more.

Shelby and I never officially dated, but I was a teenage boy and she was a beautiful girl. She and Ezra are twins, so we were all in the same grade and graduated together. They had a single mom, so they were on their own a lot too. Our time together was mostly the typical teen hangout stuff: getting high, wasting time.

I always looked at Shelby like she was better than us, but she stuck around anyway. She was smart. Mature. When Ezra and I wanted to nick a couple packs of cigarettes from the liquor store, Shelby just bought them for us instead. I would have never pursued a girl like Shelby. She was out of my league, but she came to me.

One night, I came over to pick up Ezra for a late night screening of the big horror flick at the time, and Shelby answered the door instead. Ezra had been called in to help his mom at her security job for the university, and I nearly walked away when she invited me in.

She made me something to eat since she knew I rarely ate with my foster family. She poured me a little cheap beer from the fridge, and after dinner we sat on the couch to watch TV.

If I closed my eyes, I could still hear the background noise and the smell of her perfume as she scooted a little closer to me. I could hear her voice as she whispered, “You know the reason I hang around Ezra so much is to be near you, right?”

It was the most beautiful sound, but I hated myself at that moment. I hated that she wanted me when she could have had anyone. Shelby and Ezra had no idea what my bio parents had done to me for years in my childhood. They had no idea that because of that abuse, I constantly wanted to put my fist through a wall anytime my mind ever came close to the idea of sex: a beautiful girl, a perky pair of tits, and especially the girl of my dreams leaning in to kiss me. I was a psychiatrist’s wet dream when it came to mental issues.

Still, when she leaned in to kiss me, I kissed her back. She let out a little whimper as her body melted into mine, and it’s a sound that haunts my dreams to this day.

When my dick started to react to her body, I pulled away. No fucking way I was bringing her into that shit.