Read Online Still Surviving by A.M. Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

me feel like a total asshole as I watched her cheeks cover with tears. “Why are you crying, angel?”
    She let a sob break from her lips, and I pulled her to my chest. She draped her arms around my waist, and my hands splayed across her back, against the spectacular angel wings… she really was an angel. I just wasn’t sure if she was going to take me to heaven or to hell.
    My thumbs moved in soothing circles along her soft skin. “I’m sorry if I pushed you… I just can’t seem to control—“
    “Stop.” She pulled away from me and grabbed her shirt, pulling it over her head. I averted my eyes out of the respect. “This one’s on me this time. You can leave now.” She looked past me, not willing to give me eye contact as she sat on the bed.
    I couldn’t hide the anger in my voice. “If that’s what you want, I’m gone.” I began to pull my phone from my pocket to call a cab. I didn’t need this bullshit.
    “The w-wings are for her,” she stuttered. The pools of tears fell from her eyes in tiny rivers.
    “The wings are for who?” My anger cooled as I watched this girl break open in front of me. I kneeled down in front of her. My hands embraced her face and brought her watery gaze to mine. “What are you talking about?”
    “I got them as a memorial… for my little sister,” she was barely able to get the words out through her tears. My chest began to constrict, the buzz from all the alcohol completely gone. “She died… when I was seventeen… she was only five.” Tiffany’s breathing was erratic, and her voice was tight as she struggled to speak.
    “Listen to me; you need to take a deep breath.” My thumbs wiped away her tears. I stood and pulled her into an embrace. My hands trailed up and down her back. I took big even breaths, trying to get the rise and fall of her chest to match mine.
    “It was my fault,” she murmured over and over into the fabric of my shirt, her tears saturated the cloth.
    “No, it couldn’t be.”
    She shoved away from me furiously. “You don’t know. You don’t know, Seth!” she yelled. Her mascara had run down her cheeks; she was shattering right before my eyes.
    “Tell me.” My voice was calm.
    She shook her head. “You don’t know…” Her body sank to the floor. “I was fucking my boyfriend while my five year old sister was drowning in our pool. I was bent over the goddamn washing machine… he was holding me down. I can still hear her calling me. I wanted to go to her, but he held me down. He said he was close, that it would only take a minute.”
    The acid in my stomach churned, and my heart raced in fast, irregular beats. “W-what?” The tension in my jaw was unbearable.
    “I can still feel the cold metal of the washer against my cheek. I can still feel the pain between my legs. He was always so rough. I didn’t even want to Seth, that’s the thing, I’d said no. I didn’t want to do that with my sister there, I didn’t want to leave her outside without me. I heard her call my name five times. Five… times. I begged him to let me check on her, but he just pinned me there and finished himself off.”
    “He fucking raped you!” My hands fisted, and my body was coiled tight as I paced the room.
    “You can’t rape the willing, Seth.”
    “You told him to stop! Your fucking sister was drowning, and he pinned you down and raped you, Tiff!” I tried to lower my voice; I tried to dial myself down. I walked briskly over to where she was sitting and picked her up. I cradled her in my arms and laid her down on the bed, sitting myself next to her.
    Her body shook with quiet sobs as I ran my fingers through her hair and across her cheeks. I let my fingers trace the lines of the tattoos on her arms in slow calming strokes. My index finger hovered over several thin straight lined scars that ran up and down the inside of her forearm in horizontal gashes. I turned her arm over and took in all the little white raised lines. I’d never noticed them