I am packing up for Maddie’s weekend getaway when Ben strolls into her room. He picks a toy from the floor, tosses it into the air and catches it. I stall when he crosses over to me. All his attempts to take over the packing from me are futile. He protests by shaking his head. I am pregnant, not handicapped.
When the bag is zipped up, I lower myself to the bed to catch my breath. Maybe I should have let him do it. But he never lets me do anything.
Worried eyes stare into mine as Ben kneels between my legs. I’m fine, just tired. I pick the stuffed bear he dropped on the bed and sniff it. It smells like Maddie. And if I listen closely, I’ll hear her voice as she sings along with her favourite characters on TV.
Maddie’s grandparents—my parents are in town because I’m due next week. They don’t want to miss it. She’s spending the weekend with them.
Ben pries the bear from me and traces the
It hurts too much. My body is on fire and it’s not yet right to push. Why isn’t it time? I need them to get the baby out of me. Not later, now. Sweat drips down my forehead and my eyes sting with tears. The doctor has stopped the bleeding. I have been cleaned up, changed into a hospital gown. They say everything is fine but it’s not. The contractions are ripping me from inside out and all Ben does is mutter unintelligible gibberish. He put the baby inside me, he should experience the pain too. “Are you okay?” Ben asks. I glare at him. How can I be okay? Whatever the doctor gave me is keeping me awake so I have no respite from the pain. Ben pushes my hair away from my sweaty forehead and I lean into him for comfort. I’m tired but I’m glad our son is okay. “I’m sorry, Gracie,” my husband says. Pushing past my pain, I offer him a questioning glance. Maddie is fine, right? My parents are okay too, right? Ben wipes the tears spill
I feel like sexual assault against the male genders is not talked about as much as in the case of the female genders. As a friend to a few males who have been molested by people who were supposed to care for them, I knew I had to write about it someday. And I hope I was able to bring awareness to this, however little, through Ben. It’s never okay to molest a child. It’s never okay to molest anyone. That being said, here are some fun facts about this book; 1. It’s my first attempt at teenfiction. I was almost certain readers would notice and call me out on that. 2. BBTB was supposed to be a short story project. I was so worried it would be a flop so I planned to make it between 40-80 chapters. But the story grew wings and took off on its own. 3. This is the longest story I have ever written. I am just as surprised as you are and I was pleasantly shocked to see comments wanting their lovestory to go on for much longer. Those comments kept me going even on the bad days. So, thank y
I have always been disliked by my peers. Sure, no one is bold enough to walk up to me and express their dislike but it’s evident in their behaviours. The looks, the snickers or low tunes when I pass by. But they never say it to my face. Well, Olivia tries, she has always been the bold one. I don’t expect her to change but I can handle her. After all, it’s her fault we are no longer friends, if only she had kept it in her pants.A tug on my shirt snaps me out of my musing, the reflection of my one and only best friend in the whole world appears on my car window and I turn around with a big smile. Her high-pitched scream has me plugging my fingers into my ears, she throws her arms around me in excitement and I return the hug with a slight eye roll, acting like I didn’t miss her. She jabs my sides with a scowl, I return the favour.“Holla,” she says in her beautiful Spanish accent, switching into Spanish like I understand the lang
“Oops,” Olivia says with a fake smile glued to her lips, straightening her frilly jacket with so many feathers on the collar I can’t help but wonder how she breathes in it. Mum used to like her, they share similar tastes. I push that memory out of my mind, me and Liv are done. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”Giggles come from behind her, I cock my head to the side and I see the girls. Her friends, minions, name it, that’s them. Four of them. Charlotte. Riley. Chloe and Zoey, the only twins at our school. They follow Liv around like their lives depend on it. They are not like the usual minions, they genuinely care about their master. Massaging my stiff shoulders, I turn to my locker, reminding myself to ignore her. She hates being ignored more than anything else in the world but Maria does not take kindly to my silence.“Of course you didn’t see her, you blind bat.”I stifle a laugh as I retrieve
Breathe, Tessa. Breathe.It’s just hey. I know it’s a simple word but it’s coming from him and that makes all the difference. I feel my cheeks heating up under his stare and avert my gaze to the board. Holy cow. Ben spoke to me.Now is really a good time to fan myself. Hold on, what’s wrong with me? I need to get a grip. I don’t do boys. High school isn’t for dating. I fiddle with the pendant on the necklace Hayden gave me. It’s my good luck charm, I wear it everywhere, even in the ring. The coldness of the necklace pressed against my palm manages to calm my thoughts, I forget Ben for a second and focus on the formula on the board.Mr Sam is explaining the formula, saying something about a pentagon. Or was it a hexagon? Whatever it was, it ends with a gon. Ben nudges me with his foot twice, for some reason, I choose to ignore him.His chair squeaks as he drags it closer, his breath fans my
I hate crowds, so why am I here? In a pub with noise and more noise, shitty beats in the name of music. Maria slides a glass of iced coke to me, I make a face and take a sip while she gulps the weird content in her shot glass with a grimace. Lucky her. I need a clear head and sharp mind for tomorrow’s fight. In less than a year, we will both be eighteen and eligible to drink and party the right way. I squint at the bright, colourful lights swirling above the small crowd moving on the dancefloor, bobbing my head to the beat. Though our fake IDs allow us entries into a few clubs, alcohol is off limits. For fun, we have them serve our drinks in shot glasses and act like it’s the almighty margarita we have heard so much about. Only tonight, Maria got lucky. She got her first real taste of margarita. “Ryan Raynoldz, smash or pass?” she asks, shot glass turned over to catch the last drop of her cocktail. I fake gag. The man might be fine but no
There’s one thing Maria and my parents don’t know about me. I fight illegally in an underground ring. Mum and Dad will have a mini heart attack if they learn their daughter is somewhat of a champion at underground martial art, thanks to Hayden. And there’s no way to tell Maria without her diving into a series of questions, wanting to know why I haven’t beaten half the school’s population for giving me shit.The song—an original from Maria’s unnamed album—playing from the tiny speaker on the table filters into the room, the tension in my joints melts and I shuffle to stand in front of the mirror to start my stretches. I hear the faint cheering from outside and my heart skips a beat. Ten more minutes until my turn. Swiping my brown hair out of my face as I bend to touch my toes, I focus on keeping my raging heart under control and regulating my ragged breathing. In. In. In. Out. I exhale and repeat the process.Today&
The first round lasts fifty minutes. Blood rushes to my ears, I am bleeding behind the mask and my heart beats so loud above the cheers, I can hardly hear what Coach is saying. He squats in front of me, holding the water bottle to my mouth and I take a swig until my stomach protests. I wince when I lift the hem of my tank top and see blood. Coach presses a warm towel to my side, my teeth sink into my lip to stop from screaming or punching him. He should have discouraged me from getting into that ring tonight.“Are you okay?” Coach asks with a worried expression and I nod. I am not in the least bit okay. My body hurts like hell. I need to soak in a tub full of ice for a week and lock myself inside with buckets of ice-cream. “Tee.”“I’m fine.”At a regular taekwondo competition, we would have gotten helmets, shin guards and body protectors. The rules would have also applied—no kicks below the waist; headshots. But he