Bully // l.h. // Book 1 of Bully Series

11. Momma Hemmings

It was around seven at night when a door upstairs opened and closed. The boys were busy arguing over what song they should learn and record next for their Youtube channel. I looked up when someone’s footsteps echoed down the stairs.

“Boys, I didn’t feel like cooking anything for you, so I just went and bought a pizza. Is that—oh, hi.” An older woman, maybe in her mid to late forties, said as she walked into the room. I felt my cheeks flush as I watched her eyes roam over my body, most likely taking in the multiple red-purple marks on my exposed arms and legs.

“Mum, this is Daeyna.” Luke introduced, standing up. His mom nodded slowly before speaking again.

“How about you guys take a break from practice and go get pizza while it’s warm?” She suggested. I heard a chorus of ‘okays’ as the rest of the boys stood up and set their instruments down. I stood up as well, intending to follow the boys, but she stopped me gently. “I’m sorry to be like this after just meeting you, honey, but I have to ask.” She began quietly. “What happened?” I felt my stomach drop, knowing a simple ‘I fell’ wouldn’t suffice. Nobody would believe that.

“Um, I—well—my dad.” I finally settled on the simplest answer I could come up with. I heard the woman take in a sharp breath as she let a few fingers ghost over some of the bruises on my arm. Her gaze drifted to a point behind me, and I assumed she was looking at the duffel bag that had been sitting near me on the floor.

“You’re not going back home, right?” Her question was more of a hopeful statement, but I shook my head anyways.

“No.” I sighed, finally acknowledging the fact that I probably wouldn’t go back. Not for a while at least. The thought brought tears to my eyes. I didn’t even have anywhere to go. God, my life was such a mess.

“Hey, mum, you didn’t happen to—“ Luke came around the corner into the basement and stopped short when he saw me. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He apologized, beginning to back up. I swiped the tears from my eyes and shook my head.

“No, it’s fine.” I said. “What were you going to ask?” Luke hesitated a moment before turning back to his mom.

“Michael wants to know if you got marinara sauce for the breadsticks.” He said. She nodded and told him it was in the fridge. Luke thanked her and sent another glance my way before dashing back up the stairs. Before either of us could say anything, my stomach growled loudly. Luke’s mom gave me a small smile.

“How about you go up and get some food, dear.” She suggested. I nodded.

“Thanks, Mrs. Hemmings.” I said. She shook her head.

“You can call me Liz, honey.” I smiled at her and dipped my head in acknowledgement before going upstairs myself. My chest deflated slightly when I noticed there were no pieces of pizza left in the box. Oh. I sighed quietly and leaned against the counter, wondering if it would be impolite to open the fridge and see if there was something I could eat. The boys were joking about in the living room, no doubt enjoying the pizza while simultaneously forgetting I was here.

“I saved you a few pieces.” I jumped, letting out a quiet gasp when a voice spoke from behind me. Luke was standing there, a plate in his hand. On it were two pieces of pizza and a breadstick. In his other hand, he was holding a glass of what looked like Coke. “I don’t know if you like Coke, but I got you some just in case.” He explained. I felt the corners of my lips tilt up into a small smile as I took the food from him.

“Thank you, Luke.” I said. And I meant it. He smiled, but quickly let it turn into a frown as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

“What—ah—what did my mum want to talk to you about?” He asked awkwardly. I frowned slightly as well.

“My bruises.” I answered truthfully. There was no sense in lying. He’d figure it out anyways. “And she wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to go back.” My voice wavered slightly towards the end of the sentence, and I shook my head slightly in frustration. I was so sick of crying.