Temporary -- A Rocky Lynch Story

Chapter 4

*Liz's POV*

DING. I groaned, feeling heat on my face. DING. DING. When I opened my eyes, I realized that I had fallen asleep on my laptop. The dinging was the sound of emails arriving in my inbox. "Ugh." I rubbed the side of my face and felt little square imprints of the laptop keys. It was already 4 in the afternoon. "How late did I stay up last night?" I asked myself as I got up and examined myself in the wall mirror. My skin was coated in dry sweat and my hair was flat and dirty. I needed a shower.

I cranked the hot water up all of the way, not caring if it burned my skin. At first it hurt like hell, but I suffered through it until my skin was numb. The hot water worked its magic, releasing the tension in my back and neck. After washing my hair and the rest of my body, I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around my body and another around my hair.

That's when I heard my phone ring. I didn't bother putting any clothes on before I ran into the other room to grab my cell off of the kitchen counter. When I read the caller ID, I felt instantly nauseated. It was my mother. I hesitantly answered, "Hi, mom."

"Hello Elizabeth." I rolled my eyes at the use of my full name. "I was just calling to see if you were going to come home for your step father's birthday." Not this. Not now.

"I have a lot of work to do," I said. It was only a half lie. I really did have a lot to do. There were articles to submit and chapters to write. I always had something to do. But there was no way I was going to go celebrate this monster's birthday. Not after what he did to me when I was little. "I'll send a card or something."

"You can't send a card. You never visit anymore. This is unacceptable. We have given you so much and this is how you repay us." She was starting to raise her voice, so I held my phone further away from my ear.

"Mom, seriously? Are we seriously going to have this conversation?"

"Kevin LOVES you. I don't know why you can't just put aside your silly writings and come visit for a weekend. You are such an ungrateful child."

"Wow, okay," I said, hanging up on her in an instant. There was no way I was going to listen to her tell me how ungrateful and selfish I was when she was the one who ignored me. When I cried for help, she didn't come. When I told her what he did to me, she brushed it off. Said I was lying and that I wanted attention.

And suddenly all of my old wounds ripped open. I felt his hands on me. I could hear a younger version of myself crying out as he took advantage of me. It was dirty. It was rough. It was awful, and I was reliving it. I grabbed a bottle of wine off the top of my fridge and popped the cork out, not bothering to get a glass. I was too sober. Even though it was against my better judgement – drinking heavily on an empty stomach spells out trouble – I took a long swig as I made my way to the dresser.

I pulled on one of Rocky's shirts that he forgot after one of our escapades. It smelled just like him, and I was oddly comforted by him. Maybe this would be enough. Maybe I wouldn't have to call him over and take advantage of him. It only made me feel good in the moment. The touch of his skin lit sparks between us, and it felt like being reborn. Afterwards, I was drenched in guilt and regret. He was such a sweet guy, and here I was using him like he meant nothing to me.

At my laptop, I pulled up my article and started to make revisions as I drank even more wine. Quiet, little girl. Don't make a sound. Please, make it stop. No one will ever love you the way I do. Oh God, why won't it stop? I'm going to ruin you for every other man. Don't you know I am the only one who can touch you like this? The last of the wine dripped into my mouth slowly and I swallowed, not even tasting it anymore. I wanted to forget.

But I couldn't forget. It seemed like everything around me brought me back. I went to the bed and buried my face into a pillow. I could feel the indent on the bed where Rocky laid late last night. I started to cry; a gut-wrenching sob that filled every nook of empty space in the room. The tears soaked the pillow as my mind raced. And before I knew it, I was reaching for my cell phone once again.

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of the shirt as I scrolled through my contacts. I hit Rocky's name and put the phone up to my ear, my heart pounding at the sound of the dial tone. It rang for ages before it went to voice mail. "Yo, it's Rocky. I'm busy, so leave a message." I couldn't breathe. I hit redial.

"Come on Rocky," I whispered as I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them. Time slowed down. Why wasn't he answering? But this time I was lucky.

"Yo," Rocky answered in an exhausted, drawn out tone. "I was sleeping. What do you want?"

Just the sound of his voice made me start crying even harder, but I tried disguise it. "Can you come over?" I asked. I thought I did a good job under the circumstances. It wasn't enough.

"What's wrong, Liz?" he asked. I could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone.

"I just need you," I pleaded. "I can't be alone right now."

The other line was silent for what seemed like eternity. "I can't just come over every time you're lonely," he sighed.

Deep from my stomach emerged a yelp. "Please... Please, Rocky? I just..."

"Okay," he gave in. "Just give me a half hour." And then the line went dead.