Chapter 35
Declan, Present
I have it completely dark in my room as I lay on the floor next to my bed.
I just want to sit in the blackness until it can swallow me up. But it won’t. At the end of the day, I’m still here—stuck in this timeline where this shitty thing happened that I can’t seem to get rid of.
I hate that I told him. I didn’t want to.
I thought I could just leave what happened in the past, but I guess it hasn’t been long enough yet.
After the initial shock had worn off for him, his face completely fell. I can’t forget how he looked at me. So sad and despondent.
I rub my eyes and groan into the darkness. I hadn’t told anyone about it. Been dancing around the subject in the therapy that Nancy and Harold force me to go to. Saying something happened to me but not going into detail.
And now, another human actually knows. And they put a name to it.
Rape.
He said Carter raped me.
I shake my head at myself.
No. I wasn’t raped. Saying that I was, discounts when real victims come forward and tell their story.
I’m not a victim. I was stupid. I drank too much. I never actually told him no.
At most, Carter is a douchebag who took advantage of me when I was insecure and drunk, but he’s not a rapist.
I mean… right?
Something akin to panic starts bubbling up in my chest. It’s a storm that churns my stomach below. It makes me spring up from the floor and run to my attached bathroom where I fall to my knees and puke my guts out.
My stomach heaves, trying to get everything out as that fucking word rattles around in my head.
Rape.
When I seem to be empty, I sit back on my haunches and shakily wipe the cold sweat from my brow.
This moment reminds me a lot of the morning after the party—when I first saw the video.
I remember rolling over in my bed and instantly being overwhelmed by a massive headache. I didn’t know where my phone was, so I couldn’t tell the time, but based on the purpley twilight peaking through the curtains, I knew it was way too early for me to be awake.
The longer I sat there, the more insistent the pounding in my head got. And when I sat up to go take a few ibuprofen, the room started violently spinning.
I could barely stand as I stumbled my way to the bathroom, and then, similar to today, kneeled in front of the toilet like a shrine and emptied my stomach.
After, I had laid my head on the cold porcelain toilet seat, which I know is gross, but I was only just clinging to life and had no fucks left to give.
I closed my eyes in the ensuing silence, actually falling asleep on the fucking toilet until a shrill ping erupted from my pocket.
Well, I had found my phone, but I still ignored it.
But it was soon joined by another ping. And another. And another. All right after each other until the bathroom was filled with the constant noise of ping ping ping ping.
I ripped the phone out of my pocket, ready to silence it and throw it across the room when I got a preview of some of the messages that were coming in.
“Can I have a turn?”
“Fucking slut.”
“Looks sloppy. ”
And a bunch of them only said Attachment: One Video.
They were all unknown numbers, so despite how shitty I was feeling, my curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked on one with a video.
Watching it was like an out of body experience. I was floating above myself in the bathroom as I watched the drunk version of me from the night before, barely able to keep my eyes open while Carter… did what he did.
The video went on as I watched in horror. And notably, not once do I say no or ask him to stop. I guess I don’t say yes either, but I definitely don’t say no.
The churning returned to my stomach. I dropped my phone on the tile to lurch forward again—head back in the toilet.
I had nothing left in there, but my body was too fucking disgusted to not try anyway. My stomach twisted around itself, wringing itself out until it found a little something for me to purge.
Tears had been continuously running down my face. I don’t know if it was from vomiting or the video, but I couldn’t stop.
So, I didn’t try. I just sat there, crying into the toilet until I decided to crumple myself on the floor and cry there.
Eventually I had gotten up—after I allowed myself to feel the pain and embarrassment for a little bit. I moved on with my day—pretended like nothing happened. Even when the whispers and jeers started on Monday, I held my head mostly high and said some sarcastic shit whenever I could.
But today, as I lie on the bathroom floor for a second time, I’m not sure I can get up, or if I’ll ever get up again.
Can I lay here forever? Turn into a spooky skeleton that Nancy and Harold will find one day?
My eyes feel heavy, so I decide to close them just for a second.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but the next time I open my eyes, it’s because of a faint sound. Like a commotion—both close and far away.
It’s even darker in the room now.
I sit up groggily, rubbing at my eyes until the pain from falling asleep on a cold tile floor sets in. I rub at some sore spots along my spine, until I hear the noises again.
I keep my body completely still, trying to tune into whatever’s going on.
Someone is screaming. And there’s also a deep thumping sound.
I listen for a few moments, until it sounds like another voice joins in. More screaming.
What the fuck is going on?
Moving slowly, I peel myself off the floor and trudge my way back into my room. I crack my balcony door open to listen.
“You know what you did!”
That’s definitely Javier’s voice.
My strength magically reappears as I swing the door all the way open to step outside. I search out the noise, and it’s not hard to find. The street is otherwise quiet and dark. But there’s Javier. Across the street. Pinning Carter to his car.
Fuck.
I turn and sprint out of my room, rushing down the stairs and right past Harold, who scratches at his tank-top-covered belly while yawning. “What’s all the ruckus out there?”
I don’t answer him and keep running until I burst out of the front door, bare feet pounding against the concrete.
As I get closer to them, I can see that Javi has his hands wrapped around Carter’s throat—choking him. And that the car is beaten to a fucking pulp.
Small shards of glass litter the driveway. I step on most of them, unable to feel the pain through all my adrenaline.
“Javi. Stop. Stop, please.”
My words are panicked and quick.
He shakes his head slowly, not taking his hands away from Carter, before he calmly tells me, “No, munequito. He raped you. He’s fucking scum. Worse than that.”
I start trying to pull him away from Carter, but who am I kidding? He’s so much bigger than me. I’ll never get him to stop unless he wants to.
“Baby. Please,” I whimper through my desperation, pulling at his arm.
“Why? Why would you want me to stop? I wasn’t there for you. I let you down. And I can make up for it now.”
“I don’t want—”
My sentence is cut off by a shrill siren splitting into the air as red and blue lights start flashing across Javi’s face.
I start tugging him harder. My voice more quiet and insistent. “Javier. Javier. You have to let go.”
“No.”
“The cops are coming.”
His eyes flick to me, a gentleness entering them. “It’s okay.”
Something crumbles inside of me. A hopelessness rising up in its place. “No. It’s not, baby. It’s not. Please, come on,” I cry, still tugging him as tears spill down my cheeks.
“Down on the ground! Down on the ground!” a voice yells from behind me.
I back away from Javi and lay on the concrete, uttering another strangled plea in his direction. “Javi, please.”
A tiny shake of his head is all I get in response.
“Last warning. Back away and lay down on the ground!” they yell at him.
Javi doesn’t answer them, just keeps his hands around Carter’s neck as his face becomes a deeper purple.
“Javier, stop!” I wail one last time before the cop starts shouting again.
“Taser! Taser!”
And then it’s utterly quiet, and I look up just in time to see Javier convulse and fall to the ground with a loud thud.