Chapter 7
CECILIA
For a nobody at school, I’m getting a lot of attention. Zeta Pi must have spread some garbage about me already, because even before everything happened this past summer, when I was still on the University cheer squad, I was never on the receiving end of this many whispers and pointed looks.
It should bother me. On some minuscule level, I think it does. But for the most part, I can’t find it in me to care. No one here matters.
They’re not my friends.
My family.
They're nobody to me.
Who cares if they know I tried to kill myself? Twelve percent of college kids attempt suicide at some point during their first four years. I know because I Googled that too.
A lot of them have probably been in the same place I was... am. Albeit for different reasons, but this doesn’t make me some weirdo. It means I was hurting. I’m still hurting. So, screw them. If they want to stop and stare, that’s on them.
In the grand scheme of all the things that are fucked up in my life right now, being the center of campus gossip registers pretty low on my give-a-shit meter.
I head for the parking lot after my last class of the day, ignoring the looks as I make a beeline for my Jeep. I'm parked near the soccer field, and would you look at that, my guardian angel steps out onto the field, shirtless and looking very much like his namesake.
Sunlight glistens off his tan skin, droplets of sweat sliding down his muscular abs. He has the coveted V at his hips all the girls lust after, and without even trying I spot at least a dozen girls drooling over him from the sidelines.
A flash of interest stirs inside of me, but I immediately squash it. I’m not interested in any guys, least of all one who associates with Austin Holt.
I shake my head and right as I’m about to look away, Gabriel’s head lifts, his eyes somehow finding mine. He tilts his head to the side, a silent question in his gaze, but for the life of me, I’m not sure what he’s asking.
He lifts one hand in the air, offering me a small wave.
I frown and look around. Did he mean to wave at me, or is that for someone else? I glance around, not spotting anyone else nearby and his eyes stare straight at me.
A few girls near the field follow his line of sight, their expressions hardening when they see I’m the one holding his attention.
I bite my bottom lip, but don’t bother to wave back. He has to know I won’t return the gesture.
But his smile never dims, and from where I’m standing it almost looks like my lack of response amuses him. Is he messing with me? He has to be.
That thought alone infuriates me, and is enough to push me into motion.
I turn on my heel and unlock my Jeep, ignoring the heat that's now creeping up my skin. Why did he do that? Single me out the way he did?
Asshole.
I don’t spare him another look as I put my car in reverse and get the hell out of there. I’m so ready for the day to be over.
The end of the day should bring with it some measure of relief, but pulling up to my childhood home does the exact opposite, and I find myself sitting in my car, my stomach churning with dread as I stave off the inevitable.
I moved out when I started at PacNorth as a freshman. My parents live close enough for me to commute, but I wanted to live on campus. Really embrace the college scene.
Joelle and I shared a dorm room and Kim lived across the hall from us in the same building. And for two years, it was perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
I can’t believe everything went to hell like it did.
Moving back home feels like I failed. Like I couldn’t hack it on my own.
Mom's Land Rover is in the driveway right beside Dad's F-two-fifty truck. They're both home, even though Dad shouldn’t be here until well after five and Mom usually stays late at the office on Mondays.
Lucky me.
I turn off the ignition and plaster a smile on my face before stepping inside.
It’s as if they’ve been waiting all day for me to walk in the door. Mom jumps from her perch on the sofa and rushes forward to give me a hug, and Dad is there, right behind her.
"How was your first day back at school?” Mom coos, running her hands over my shoulders and tucking my dark hair behind my ears.
I pull away from her, not missing the flash of hurt, but she’s quick to hide it.
My chest squeezes and I force myself to stop, to stay in the entryway a few seconds longer than I'd like to to make up for it. I don't mean to hurt her. Or make her worry. I just hate all of her hovering. If she wants things to go back to normal, she has to stop treating me like I’m made of glass.
"It was fine," I tell her and wait, knowing we're about to play a twisted round of twenty questions all to make sure Cecilia isn't at risk of killing herself again.
"Did you see your friends? Do you have any classes together?"
I shrug. "I don't really hang out with the same people anymore," I remind her.
Before this summer, I hung out with the cheerleaders and the Greeks. But I don’t want anything to do with Greek row, and as far as I'm concerned, my former squad can rot. Kim and Joelle were my best friends. Ride or die, or so I thought.
Kim’s always had this massive crush on Austin. Ever since freshman year. And Austin Holt is smart. So fucking smart.
That morning, before I even made it back to my dorm, he arranged a date with her for the very same day.
And when I blew up her phone, freaking out like a crazy person because hello, she was on a date with my rapist, he used the time to convince her I was jealous.
Claiming he asked me about her at the party and that I threw myself at him.
He seriously got her to believe I’d say and do just about anything to get between them. That I was desperate to ruin their shot at happiness. So when I came clean and told her what happened to me, she didn’t believe me. Not even for a second.
She called me a liar. Said I broke girl code by going after the guy I knew she wanted.
I tried to explain. I told her I said no.
Repeatedly. That there was no way I would sleep with Austin willingly, let alone screw around with Parker Benson and Gregory Chambers at the same time, but she didn't believe me. Like anyone would ever reject an advance from Austin Holt. That’s seriously what she said to me.
For a second there, I thought Joelle was on my side. That she believed me. She knows I’ve never been into Austin. The clean-cut, preppy-guy look isn't my type, and I'd never date a guy in a frat or have a three some. It just isn’t me.
They're players and I’m not the kind of girl who gets around. I’m not claiming to be a saint, but I don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. And I sure as hell don’t do threesomes.
I’m a relationship kind of girl. Every guy I’ve slept with, all two of them—not counting what happened this summer—I was in an actual relationship with.
Kim and Joelle know that. They know me. And Joelle saw the bruises with her own eyes.
She was the one who suggested I go to the school board first.
But whether she believes me now or not is irrelevant because Kim called me a liar, and Joelle doesn't have the backbone to go against her, which means I’m on the outs.
Leaving the squad was easy once it was clear they weren’t going to change their minds. I loved cheerleading, but more than that, I loved being a part of a team. Belonging and having people I cared about beside me. Take that away and there isn’t anything left worth sticking around for.
"How about new friends? Did you meet anyone you clicked with in any of your classes?” She’s so damn hopeful. I don't want to steal her joy, not after everything I’ve put her through, so I offer her a little white lie, hoping she'll drop the subject after that.
"Yeah. One,” I tell her. “His name is Gabriel.”
"Ooo, a boy." Mom's eyes spark with interest, but I don’t miss Dad’s frown. Probably should have expected that. Even when I was more outgoing, and had friends, he always encouraged me not to hangout with boys.
I’d like to say he’s just your typical overprotective father type. But I’m not naive. Dad’s the Mayor of Richland and I’m well aware that what I do and who I spend time with is always up for scrutiny.
"Is that a good idea—"
"Hush, Joe,” Mom says and smacks him lightheartedly on the chest. "Our daughter is making new friends. Be supportive."
He mashes his lips together and grunts, but otherwise doesn’t comment.
I peek at him through the curtain of my hair and give him a wink, letting him know it's not a boy he needs to worry about. Seeing the gesture he nods and steps back, leaving Mom to do enough hovering for the both of them.
"I'll let you catch up with your mother. You can find me in my study if either of you need me."
"Alright, dear. Let me know if you need anything." Mom doesn't take her eyes off me. I know she's about to grill me for any and all details she can manage about Gabriel, but before she dives in, I head her off.
"I was actually just popping in to drop off my school books. I made plans tonight, so I'm going to head back out after I change real quick.”
"Oh." Mom's brows pitch forward, and she plays with the strand of pearls around her neck. A nervous gesture I’ve grown used to seeing more and more often these days. "Are you—"
"I'll be fine, mom. New friends. Remember?"
She perks back up and slaps on a too-bright smile. "Yes. Of course. You'll call if you need anything?"
I wave my phone in her direction. "Will do."
"And ..." She hesitates. No one likes to talk about the elephant in the room.
It's that nameless phantom that's just waiting to strike again. Seeing the masked worry on her face makes me want to scream or maybe even snarl a bit. But I hold it back. It’s better to pretend. That seems to be our family’s new M.O.
Mom thinks I’m struggling with depression, and sure, maybe. But that’s not why I did it. She’d know that if she ever worked up the nerve to ask me why. No one has. Not her. Not my dad. Not even my therapist. Everyone just assumes I have some sort of mental illness. I almost wish that were true.
If Mom wants to know what I’m dealing with, the signs are all there.
I don’t wear revealing clothes anymore. I don’t party.
Alcohol and I aren’t on good terms, and I don’t hang out with any of my former friends.
I spend my weekends reading in my room or swimming laps in our pool and I don’t smile anywhere near as often as I used to.
I’m almost angry she’s never asked. That she’s never even suspected what happened to me. One in four women are sexually assaulted while in college. Google told me that too. Gotta love the magic of the internet. You learn all sorts of things.
Hell, she could have typed my shift in behavior right into the search bar and I’m betting it’d give her the correct answer.
So, it’s not a far leap when wondering why your daughter tried to off herself, right?
She should know. And I hate that she doesn’t because I’ll never have the nerve to tell her.
She’s my mom. She’s supposed to know.
I exhale a breath. I’m getting worked up and it’s not going to help anything. “I’ll check in, okay?” I tell her, brushing past as I head up the stairs to my bedroom.
“Okay, honey. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Once I’m safely tucked inside my room, I drop my bag and lean against the door, letting my feet slide out from beneath me until my butt hits the carpet.
There’s one small problem with what I told Mom.
I don’t actually have any plans. But I’m not about to stay here and be on the receiving end of her tenth degree either.
So without a plan, I ditch my long-sleeved, purple shirt and jeans for a short sleeved-maxi dress and slip a thick bangle on one wrist and a velvet scrunchie over the other.
I hate having my arms exposed, but this way, when Mom sees me slip back out, she’ll believe the lie that I’m meeting people. Someone I’d bother to dress up for.
Slipping my feet into a pair of sandals, I quietly slip down the stairs and out the front door, grateful she’s not hovering like a wraith in the hallway.
I exhale a relieved breath and take a few minutes to consider what I’m doing before starting my Jeep. My swimsuit in the backseat catches my eye, and not letting myself think too much about it, I head back toward campus. Back to where it all happened.
I haven’t gone to the campus pool since that day, but it’s the only place I can think of going where I’ll be left alone.
Where I can just be me.