Chapter Seven
Karina
Elodie’s body curled into a ball on my bed made me instantly burst into tears. I didn’t know what—if anything—had happened, but my nerves were so tight and Phillips was obviously drunk as hell, so it couldn’t have gone well.
“Hey.” I went to her side as my brother moved past me, getting to her first. He lifted her up, pulling her onto his lap. Their physical contact didn’t bother me, maybe because of the stress we were all under, but it didn’t feel as weird to see it as I had imagined it would. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hoodie, her entire body shaking with silent sobs.
“Did he hurt you?” my brother asked her.
I held my breath.
“No. I’m okay.”
I sighed in relief as she replied.
My brother held her closely but was inspecting her body—her cheeks, her wrists, all the go-to spots for bruising. He seemed to accept her answer as the truth, and rubbed her back as she slowly calmed down.
“I’m so sorry,” Elodie gasped into Austin’s neck.
She turned to look at me. “And Karina, I’m so sorry. This mess is my fault.”
I moved over to sit by them on the bed and ran my hand over the back of her hair.
“This isn’t your fault. This is . . . well, it’s a mess, but there’s no point in blaming yourself right now. No one knew he was going to come home like this. You didn’t have time to figure out what you were going to do or to prepare.” I looked at Austin so he would know I was speaking to them both.
After a few more minutes, Elodie gained enough strength to sit up on her own, but she stayed close to my brother. The sleeve and neck on her shirt were stretched out, like someone had yanked on them.
“What happened to your shirt?” I asked, alarming my brother.
She awkwardly tugged the fabric lightly, fingering the loose hem of the neckline first. “It’s nothing, I just—” She fumbled with a lie, her eyes darting back and forth between me and my brother. I wanted to ask him to leave and give us a second, but after last night, I realize they are closer than I imagined, closer than her and me.
Cupping her face gently like she was made of porcelain, Austin said her name slowly.
“He thought we were going to . . . he wanted to . . . you know.” She winced and my brother’s eyes nearly blew out of their sockets. He clutched my bedding with a tight fist but managed to keep his face and voice calm for Elodie.
There was a world of difference between trying to sleep with someone and getting rejected and pulling at their clothing. Did Phillips assault her? The thought made me nauseous. We should have never left her alone with him. It took everything in me not to march into the living room and knock his damn teeth out.
I could call the cops?
But what good would that do?
I hesitated, because not only had Elodie not asked me to, but they were married and this was the South; I wasn’t na?ve enough to not know there was still a disgusting stigma and injustice around what terms like “rape” or “sexual assault” within a marriage looked like.
“Did he force you?” my brother asked, lips tight, jaw twitching.
“No.” Elodie shook her head. “He stopped before. He drank way too much and hasn’t been home long enough to have any sense. After he rests and sobers up, I’m going to figure out what’s next.”
There was so much weight to that, to all of the unanswered questions and chaos, but for now, I was simply going to be there for her, no matter what.