Chapter 6 - We are one

REBECCA'S POV

SIX YEARS AGO

I remained petrified as he kissed me. It wasn't my first kiss, I've kissed a couple of boys in my school, but ... this one was different.

He'd tenderly caressed my cheek, his chocolate brown eyes smiling just as his lips neared mine, which curled into a grin on their own. My heart had started racing like a fool as soon as his hand had landed on my face, just as it always did lately.

As his tongue traced my bottom lip, requesting entrance, I unconsciously agreed, parting my lips, and his tongue slipped inside. It took me a moment to adjust to it, but I was soon able to let my tongue dance with his in perfect sync, and I was so engrossed into it, that barely I noticed I was now sitting onto his lap, his arms around me, just as mine were around him.

Our bodies grew closer and closer, he gripped me tighter and tighter, and I was feeling hotter and hotter, so much that it was as if I had flu or something. Our kiss reached such intense peak that I knew I was crimson, because I could feel myself and my insides melting while churning as butterflies fluttered around my stomach. For how weird that sounds.

But ... sadly, he pulled back completely, letting me go all of a sudden, actually nearly making me fall as he leaped to his feet, apologizing confusedly: "Becky, I'm sorry, I ... I-I don't know what got into me, I ... I-I shouldn't have ..." He growled, tormenting his hair in frustration.

I gaped at him, puzzled. Why was he apologizing? There was nothing to be sorry for. He kissed me. And I liked it. And I wanted him to do it again. Why should he apologize? It was amazing. Pure bliss.

So I went closer and hugged him, wrapping my arms around his torso as I leaned my head on his chest. As usual. His body stiffened a little at first, but then he let himself go and hugged me back, leaning his chin on my head, as usual. Smiling, I pointed out: "I liked it."

He cleared his throat awkwardly, his heart beating fast against my ear: "It ... it wasn't right, Becky. You know that."

"Why?"

"Because ... I'm your brother."

"Stepbrother."

He sighed. "It's the same."

So he regretted it. He regretted kissing me. My eyes, uncontrollably, filled with tears, my heart burning because there were words I needed to tell him, they'd been crowding my mind since long and while I didn't quite know the real meaning of it, I needed to tell him, so I looked up at him, fixing my watery eyes on his chocolate browns, and confessed: "I love you, Tom."

I could feel his heart racing if possible even faster at my words, and mine dropped as he remained silent. My feelings weren't mutual, were they? I knew almost nothing about love, except for the one we read about and saw in movies, the ones we read and saw together, that is, but I felt just as confused as Lizzie when she saw Mr. Darcy, just as weird as Jane when she was around Mr. Rochester, and even just as jealous as Hermione felt at the sight of Ron and Lavender together. Even if I'd never known about it, I would have felt it. I wouldn't have known its name, but I would have felt it. Because I felt all those things, and for him only.

"A-As ... as a brother?" Tom stammered.

I shook my head. "I love you like Snape loved Lily."

His heart skipped several beats as he gulped. Closing my eyes, tears streamed my cheeks, and I pressed my forehead against his shoulder. I knew it was maybe wrong, because he's supposed to be my brother, even if there is no blood relation between us, but I still love him and it hurts to know he doesn't feel the same.

"I-It's ok, Tom. Y-You don't ... I-I understand." Yet I was crying silently. My heart was burning. I love him so deeply, and that kiss was annihilating. Why did he kiss me if he doesn't feel the same? Why did he give me hopes? I know he loves me, but not in the way I mean it. I'm supposed to be his sister after all. Even if stepsister.

Tom hugged me tightly, kissing my hair affectionately. "Shhh ... don't cry, Becky, please. I hate it when you cry. It means I failed you."

I tried my best to stop tears, but they were falling without my will, no matter what, I was even sobbing, barely I was able to be silent, lucky thing his chest muffled those sounds.

They don't know we're home, if they do, Hell will break loose, because we were supposed to be out tonight, they had some gathering, if they know we're home before due, they're gonna punish us, and I don't want to have to witness again as Tom gets both my and his share of punishment, not to let them hurt me; last time, he was in bed for three days because of the beatings, I don't want that to happen again.

Yet the sounds kept coming out, so I pressed and pressed my face against his chest, gripping him tightly while I apologized for being such a crybaby, which was the least I could do, for being such a burden for him too.

He could have left last year, but he didn't. He stayed for me, and now here I am, always aggravating him. But this time it wasn't my fault, I swear. My heart needed relief, I couldn't hold it back anymore. I've been incubating these feelings for a while, and now that they have a name, I couldn't keep them inside. Even if he hadn't kissed me out of the blue, I would have told him, sooner or later.

"I-I'm sorry ..." I drawled, nuzzling his chest, kinda to wipe tears a little, but I was still sobbing ... and now hiccupping. I tend to hiccup when I cry a lot.

"Becky, no ... there's nothing to be sorry about –"

"There is. B-Because ... b-because I-I ..."

"Becky, breathe. You know you can't talk when you hiccup like that. Take a deep breath."

I did as he said, trying to calm down. The trouble is, sometimes I get these sorts of attacks, I mean, when I start crying for real, I can't really stop ... you have no idea the beatings this issue has caused me when I was a child. Now I had to stop before they heard me downstairs, which would cause deep, deep trouble.

I took deep breaths, one after another, while Tom rubbed my scalp and back soothingly, which had my breaths even at least, till I was able to cease sobbing, I was still crying, but it was silent, I kept biting my lip till bleeding not to emit a single sound, knowing that it would cost me not little, like always.

"Becky ..." Tom called in a sigh, rubbing my scalp and back. I closed my eyes, gripping his t-shirt tightly in order to get the strength to force myself to cease crying, but the trouble is, normally I'd be able to, but this time ...

My mind kept reminding me that what I feel is wrong and he doesn't feel the same, that I'm a burden to him, that he'd be so much better off without me, because, weren't it for me, he'd be far far away from this horrible house and wouldn't have to endure the beatings twice every time, both for me and him, he wouldn't have to endure them, he could be free, but he's here because of me, and if it weren't for me his life would be so much better! And then I feel these things, I'm in love with him, but he isn't and ... ughhhh! I don't know, my heart was just burning so painfully, tears seemed to be the only escape.

"I-I'm ceasing. I-I'm ceasing." I stuttered in a whisper, just not to let him know I was still crying, which was stupid, because he could obviously feel the tears on his chest.

Tom sighed, bringing me closer. "It's kind of wrong, I guess, but ... I love you too, Becky. Truly. I ... I really am in love with you, Becky."

I grinned against his chest, even if tears were still streaming my cheeks and some were still in my eyes, ready to fall, and I pointed out, my voice shaky: "It can't be wrong. Love never is." All those stories we read together, they taught me that love conquers all and it's never wrong, love can never be wrong, because it's the force that guides the world, it can never be wrong.

Tom sighed, though pressing me against him, holding me tightly. "Becky, I –"

"You are not my brother. I am not your sister." I cut him off, then looked up at him, eyes still watery, yes, but no more crying. "I am the girl you took care of since you first came into this house eight years ago. I am the girl ready to give you everything you need and want. In every sense."

Tom looked at me bewildered, and I smiled, a bit mischievously maybe, as I pressed myself against him, and I retained a giggle when I felt something hard poking my stomach. I just spoke my mind: "Make love to me, Tom. Teach me what love really means."

*********

TODAY

That time, that time of six years ago, Tom made of me a woman. He taught me what does it mean to love someone so deeply that you are one with that person. He taught me the art of love, and that night will be forever carved in my heart, just as much as he will.

I will never forget Tom Henson, I will forever cherish his memory, till I exhale my last breath. I took his last name for that same reason,him having taken his mother's maiden name not to be related to that bastard. I took Henson as my last name a few months ago, to feel as if we indeed crowned our love and got married. Because I do not want to forget him. Ever.2

The trouble is, the memory kills me every time. I can't even hear the nickname he gave me that I'm already in tears. The proof was some minutes ago with Will. It's like that nickname is property of Tom's and Tom's only, only he could call me that, nobody else could ever have such privilege. I guess that's why I reacted like that.

I thought I could live without him. But I can't. I keep pushing back the thought, but then the memory pervades my mind and ... and I just break down every time. It's been only three years. Three years is nothing. Nothing. Not when you lose someone like Tom.

He was my only grip on life. Literally. Because I started believing in a real future only when he entered my life. Only when he came in and we bonded did I start believing I could make it out of that horrible house. Because he kept repeating me we would. We would make it, no matter what.

He kept repeating he'd never leave me, he would be by my side through thick and thin, no matter what. And in my last years of high school he was even more adamant on reminding me that, he kept telling me he would give me the life I deserve, he would save me, no matter what ...

*****

THREE YEARS AGO

"No matter what, Becky, whatever it takes, I will rot in Hell before I let them break you. You hear me? I'm gonna get you out of here, my darling. At the cost of my life. I will get you out of here."

I opened my eyelids, including the swollen one, and reached his hands that were cupping my cheeks. There was such fire in his eyes, as I've never seen, those chocolate browns were full with rage, but not at me ... at my mother, my sisters, at what they did to me ...

"Don't say that." I muttered weakly, shaking my head. I don't like the idea of him promising things like those. He looks too serious when he says that, and I get the idea he's gonna really sacrifice his life for me and I do not want that. I'd rather surrender to my fate than give up on him.

"We're gonna live our life as one." I whined, tears already prickling behind my eyes, even if they hurt. "You promised." I reminded him in a tiny whisper.

Tom pressed his forehead against mine, his lips grazing mine. "I have. And I will keep that promise, Becky. Be it the last thing I do."

"No!" I pulled back, already in tears. "Don't say such things!"

"Becky ..."

I shook my head, even if I was weak, because of the beating. My mother and sisters ambushed me. I came back from school that Tom was on a double shift to gain extra money, because it's my senior year, in a few months I'll turn 18, therefore I can legally leave, therefore Tom is trying to gain extra money for the trip, which would bring us as far as possible from these horrible people.

But ... I was saying, I came back from school that they were here, and I was alone, and I dared talk back ... one thing leads to another, and in a moment I found myself being yanked back from my hair and ... long story short, they beat me black and blue. Lucky thing it was only my sisters, my mother sort of adding a couple of kicks now and then, but had it been her husband, it would have been a whole of a lot worse.

That's why I was able to make it only with a swollen eye and a couple of bruises and cuts here and there, nothing really broken, so that Tom only found me resting on my bed, didn't have to take me to the hospital, as it happened a few times when I was in middle school. I think they would have done worse, hadn't I escaped, because it had been years since they last time they beat me, so they had to make up for it, I guess.

Tom got really mad when he found out, though. Hadn't I stopped him, he would have gone after them. He's always been so protective over me, especially since we became an actual couple. I was told that it was technically illegal, because he is a major while I am still a minor, but I say that I don't care, I will swear to whatever judge that he never did anything to me, it was everything consensual.

To be sure, they don't know about it. I have no doubt they would try to have Tom arrested if they knew, my sisters already tried to do that a couple of years ago, when they accused him of having raped them. Lucky thing I could provide an alibi for him and the judge wasn't my stepfather's friend, as many seem to be.

Now, my head was pounding, because they hit that too, and my body was weak, but I stood there, crying, begging Tom not to do anything that would take him away from me, because: "I couldn't make it without you. Don't say –" I had to take a deep breaths, because I was already having troubles to breathe, which also happens when I cry a lot and I'm too upset – it's been like this since I was a child, I always hiccup and find it hard to breathe when I'm too upset while crying. I quit breathing once, scaring the living daylight out of Tom.

"Don't say those things. We are one! If you leave me, I will not survive!" I whisper-yelled, just not to have them hear. I took deep breaths to calm down, abandoning myself in Tom's arms when he came to hug me, whispering me soothing words to calm me down, which he always does when I'm in such state.

"Don't leave me, okay?" I whispered against his chest, begging.

Tom inhaled, I could feel it from his chest rising and falling, then he kissed my temple, hugging me tightly. "I will do whatever it takes to get you out of here."

"Tom ..."

"But ... I'll be careful." He pulled back and cupped my cheeks, giving me a small smile, one of his that always warm my heart. "I will never leave you, Becky. I promise. We are one."

*************

TODAY

Too bad he did. Not his fault, though. Just mine. He left me. Forever. These three years with them were pure Hell. I said I was able to escape the harassing from my stepfather and his brother. I never said I escaped the beatings my sisters so gladly gave me.

A couple of times, they had their boyfriends do it. Useless to mention I survived by pure miracle. Both times I crawled back into my room, upstairs, step by step, while they laughed at my attempts, and I patched myself up. One positive aspect of this is that I have enhanced knowledge of first aid now. I wish I could laugh of that.

All I feel right now is emptiness. Because Tom is gone and I am nothing without him. I've been trying to move on, to always think positive, to look at the bright side: I'm out of that Hell, I've got a job, actually two jobs, they don't pay me that much, but I'm starting to save up for college, and if I'm lucky, better said, if I reduce every single expense to the minimum, namely just rent, taxes and my share of food, in five years more or less I could enroll at least for one of the cheapest colleges. I've found nice guys as roommates, and that is positive as well – if you don't count jerkface, of course. But then nostalgia hits me, at the slightest hint, even only hearing the nickname Tom used for me, yes, and ... and the world crumbles down again.

That's why now I was sprawled on my bed, face dipped into the pillow I was hugging, crying my heart out, which is what I always do when I miss Tom more than I could endure. Often, that is.

He was my life. We were one. How do you move on from that? How do you move on from someone that gave his life for you? Especially when you know it was your fault. They call it survivor's guilt, the doctor at the hospital called it that: said it's normal for people who have survived the same disaster where their beloved ones perished, to feel it's their fault. But what do you call it when everything that happened is, in fact, your fault?1

Because Tom died for my fault. We were out at night because he wanted to take me out of that Hell. He didn't see the truck coming because he was too busy running before our parents caught us. He got the majority of the blow because he pushed me away before the truck could run over me. I only got an arm broken and a bit of a concussion because my head hit the concrete when he pushed me, but Tom, he was the one that got run over by the truck. Once more, to save me.

Hence, it is my fault and my only. So how can I move on when I know he could be here if he hadn't wanted to put me first? All I can wish is for pain to lessen with time, step by step, in a way that I'll be able to, if not really live, at least push through life in some way.

I've being doing this till now, I just have these moments on my own, where I need to let out all the sorrow. Sometimes, like this one, it feels like it will never pass, but in the end it does. Even if never for real, even if only for a few hours or, if I'm lucky, days.

In the end, I guess that's it. I live through pain, the good moments are just an interval that lasts barely long enough for me to recharge and gather the strength to keep going.

I've thought about ending it many times, you know. But just how ungrateful would I be, if I threw away the same life Tom sacrificed his for?

***

"Becky? Becky, can you hear me?" I opened my eyes, only to find myself sitting in the swing by the park nearby the library, where we used to always go to as soon as Tom got some time. But why was I here? I've quit coming since ... "Becky, look up. I'm here."

I did as the ethereal voice told me to and ... "Tom?" My voice broke the same moment I called his name.

He gave me one of his warm smiles as he nodded. "Yes, it's me, my darling."

"Why ... why are you here?"

He looked the exact same as I remembered him – the same 21-years-old handsome boy that left me too early. I was myself, though. I was my 22-years-old self, swinging like the little girl he used to push every time we came here.

Tom was there, with his chocolate brown eyes reverberating the smile on his lips, his tousled brown hair, his New York Rangers jersey on him, as well as his favorite blue jeans, slightly ripped, but he'd never get rid of those, and his blue sneakers, the ones he deemed as lucky. He looked normal. The same as he always was.

Tom's warm smile was unfaltering as he came closer, in a move that seemed all but human, and, now I noticed, neither did the light illuminating him seem very human. "Why? I'm here for you, my darling."

I blinked my eyes, confused, then I realized. "To ... take me away? To ... Heaven with you?"

Tom laughed, his boyish laugh I've always loved, as he shook his head, coming even closer yet not moving, he was in front of me, enough to touch me, yet he seemed distant, far far away from me, and that light made him look so ethereal, but it also brightened his beautiful smile. My heart was in ecstasy.

"No, Becky. It's not your moment yet. Your moment will come, just not now."

A single tear escaped my eyes. "I wanna be with you." I whined in a whisper.

Tom smiled, this time truthfully coming closer, enough for me to feel it, but I couldn't feel his body heat. He was as cold as ... well, a corpse. Yet his hand, when it caressed my cheek, it was as warm as it always used to be. Our eyes met, and it felt like the same as it was years ago, but at the same time it was as if I weren't looking into human eyes, if that makes any sense.

"You will be, Becky. Just not yet." He told me, his voice soft and comforting as it always was. I closed my eyes, trying to bask in the feeling of his hand on my cheek, at least that.

"I'm here to remind you my promise, my darling." Tom stated. I pressed my eyelids to try and savor them, but ... his lips, when they pressed on mine, I barely felt them. As if they weren't real.

"I will never leave you, Becky." He continued softly. "I am not there in body, but I am with you every day. I will never leave you, Becky."

"You ... you're still in my heart." I whispered, and could hear his light chuckle while his thumb stroked my cheek.

"Yes, my darling, I am in your heart. That's why I will never leave you." His lips grazed mine once more, his breath entering my parted mouth slightly. "You are not alone, Becky. Never will be. I am here with you, my darling. Always will be. Never forget that. I will never leave you."

When I opened my eyes, he was gone. But the words echoed in the park. 'I will never leave you'. And I would have sworn that echo also brought some other words that had me smile brightly: 'I love you, my darling. We are one. Live our life. I will never leave you.'

******

"Rebbie? Hey, Rebbie?" I felt my body being shaken, so I rolled over, only to meet Byron's relieved sigh as he grumbled "thank God!"

I rubbed my eyes, stirring a little, a small smile still on my lips as I recalled whom did I just dream of. I have dreamed of him a couple of times, but it was never this vivid, as if it were real, as if it were a vision, other than a dream.

"You okay?" Byron asked, clearly concerned. I nodded, even if not sure why was he so worried.

"Thank God!" Al exclaimed as he jumped on my bed, with his peculiar delicacy, coming to hug me tightly, barely letting me breathe, which had also Byron scold him, so Al let go, but only slightly. "Damn woman! You gave me a heart attack!" He accused as he looked at my face. "I called you a thousand times! You never answered! I got worried!"

Byron half smiled, nodding. "Yes, and he called me."

I frowned. "He called you?"

He nodded again. "Yeah, I was on my way home, when Al called me I was in the car. Broke a couple of laws by speeding down the street, but ... I got here soon enough, well, enough to slap some sense into Mr. Panicky here."

I couldn't help but giggle, shaking my head, while Al grumbled that he was worried, I seemed dead in my sleep, he couldn't wake me up, no matter what, he didn't know what to do. I grinned, my heart melting as I heard that, and I quite simply hugged Al tightly. "Thank you."

"For what?"

I smiled, even if a little bitterly. "For caring about me."

Both him and Byron frowned. "You don't need to thank us for that, Rebbie." Byron mentioned, the slightest hint of a smile on his grim look.

Al nodded eagerly, and I yelped when he wrapped my up in another hug, but I smiled brightly as he admitted: "You're one of us, Becks. We care for you. More than you could ever imagine."

That's so beautiful to hear. I almost cried out of happiness, my heart melted into a puddle, especially as Byron, even while rolling his eyes, got out of his way enough to come join us in our hug, so I hugged both tightly as much as they did to me. One month of co-living and I already am so attached to these guys. I'm so lucky to have found them.

As we hugged and laughed, Byron scolding Al for trying to grope me in such moment even, my eyes unconsciously travelled to the door, and I spotted Will, standing by the doorframe, leaning on it, arms crossed, eyes on us, looking brooding, but not as usual, this time it felt like there was some concern, too. But I guess I was wrong, because as soon as his icy blues met my browns, he scowled and left.

I didn't care at the moment, though. Those words still echoed in my mind, and I would have sworn not just in my mind, I would have sworn I saw that smile I loved so much lingering in the air, as much as those words echoed: I love you, my darling. We are one. I will never leave you.