Ballad of a Broken Boy

Banging and Bruising

"Nini, come on! You need to eat your breakfast." Mama D sighed. I shook my head.

"Not hungry." I mumbled, holding my head.

"You and I both know how you get when you don't eat your breakfast. Are you really gonna put everyone through that?!" My mom questioned sternly, and suddenly I snapped.

"I said I don't want any fucking breakfast!" I shouted, looking at her for the first time this morning. She gasped, but I assumed it was more because of my face than my choice of language.

"Nini! What happened to you?" She gasped. I looked away again, biting my lip to keep the tears at bay.

"Nothing. I'm fine." I mumbled.

"Don't give me that crap, Nina. You have a black eye! Did you get into a fight?"

"No, of course I didn't get into a fight. You know me, mom." I sighed, pushing my bowl away from me. I suddenly felt sick.

"Then what happened? Don't tell me it was that Ricky boy. I swear, if he laid one finger on you I am going to-"

"No! No, mama D, it wasn't Ricky." I said quietly. She looked like she didn't believe me, but luckily she didn't press any further. She didn't need to. I know exactly the lengths she would go to if any guy dared to lay a finger on me. Which is why I don't want to tell her what happened...

FLASHBACK

"Come on, Neens. It's just a party. I swear, you'll have fun." Ricky said, playing with my hair. We were lying on my bed, me writing in my songbook while Ricky did everything in his power to distract me.

"I'm not sure... I don't dance, and what is there to do at a party like this except dance?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"Drinking? Games? Socializing? Look, Nini... people have been pretty accepting of us as a couple, which is great. But that doesn't mean you're instantly popular. You need to make some more friends, babe." He sighed. I rolled my eyes.

"Because the great Richard Michael Bowen can't date a girl with only one friend, right?" I asked bitterly. He stopped stroking my hair to place his finger under my chin and move my face so our eyes met.

"I don't care if you have one friend or one hundred friends. I love you. But I know you, and I know you would love to have more friends. I think it's killing you to only have Kourtney." He muttered. I shook my head, then sighed and hung my head. He was right; I love Kourt, but I would love to have more friends.

"Well, I guess it would be nice to have a few more friends... but I still don't know if this party is the best idea. It's one thing making friends with people, it's a whole different thing making friends with drunken people."

"Awe, come on, Neens! It's actually a lot easier to make friends with someone who's wasted."

"Yeah, but the next day they don't remember even speaking to you." I muttered sourly.

"You watch too much TV. Only really, really drunk people forget everything. It'll be fine. In fact, it's even better for you."

"Why?"

"Because if you get nervous and embarrass yourself, which you do a lot, their memory will be hazy enough that they won't care about it." He joked. I slapped his arm playfully, and he smirked. I frowned, wondering what he was up to, then cried out as I felt him slap my ass. Hard.

"Ricky!" I shouted, before collapsing in a fit of giggles. He smirked and tried to kiss me, but I moved my head so he kissed my cheek. He didn't let it deter him, however, and I gasped as he began making his way down my jaw towards my neck. I groaned as I felt him sucking at a sensitive spot, momentarily overcome by the sensation. Then I snapped back to reality and shoved his head away.