Chapter 51
Zoe
I always thought that nothing bad would ever happen to me. Those things always happen to other people, not to me. Why did it happen? Why?
—Zoe
I have strange dreams about Reed and Charlotte. About the party. Jase. Caleb. Mae and Katie. Tristan and Nick. They’re all there, even though it doesn’t make sense. I know that even in my dream.
Flickering images. Darkness and light. Panic and burning pain. Total loss of control. My heart pounding against my ribs. A voice shouts, telling me to run. It’s my own voice. I try to do it, but I can’t move. I can’t even scream.
I’m lost.
I’m falling.
“Zoe.”
Hands on my skin. Fingers on my cheeks. I know this voice. This time it’s not my own.
“Hey, Pixie, wake up.”
He sounds worried and afraid. A bit like I feel.
“You have to wake up.”
Jase’s voice pulls me out of my dream. I open my eyes, blinking against the light. I cry. My mouth is dry, and my throat is closed. I can breathe, but it feels wrong, too hard. It comes out as a gasp.
But I can breathe.
I. Can. Breathe.
“Hey.” His voice softens, and he takes his hands away to give me space. My vision clears. Jase is sitting next to me, still sleepy, with dark circles under his eyes and messy hair. He’s pale.
“That was just a dream,” he says firmly.
I nod. Just a dream. Shaking, I straighten up. I feel sick. When was the last time I ate? I have no idea. I don’t care. But I notice that I’m desperately thirsty.
“Could you please get me a glass of water?” I ask, because I doubt my legs will carry me anywhere. As weak as I feel, I certainly won’t make it out of bed.
God, I’m so weak.
I hate this.
All of this.
I barely notice that Jase gets up and disappears. A moment later, he comes back and hands me a glass. I drink, and my stomach objects. I really should eat something. But I have absolutely no appetite.
Jase stops in front of my bed, and I know why he’s holding himself back, but I don’t want him to.
I want him to be with me and hold me. So I reach out my hand to him, and he sits down next to me without hesitation.
I sigh as I snuggle up to his warm body.
My pulse slows. Everything feels calmer.
He gently wraps both arms around me. I can feel his heart beating against my back.
“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly after a while. I have no idea how much time has passed.
“Tired.” I close my eyes. “And empty. I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t need to know that yet.” But we both realize that’s not true.
“I need to talk to the police.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he replies firmly. “If you don’t want to go to the police, that’s your business. It’s your life. And it’s your decision.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and only now, when he says it, do I realize how much I needed to hear it. It’s my decision, and I love him so much for saying it. But I know better.
Reed raped me. I heard what he said. I know what he did, what Charlotte did. I can’t ignore that. I have to do something. He has to pay for it.
I want him to pay for it.
I want them both to pay.
* * *
I stay under the shower until I’m red as a lobster. The water is too hot, but I don’t care. When I turn it off and step out, I feel a little better. A little more like myself. And above all, clean.
I slowly dry myself and then put on sweatpants and Dad’s old Harvard hoodie, which is too big for me.
My fingers are still shaking as I weave my damp hair into two thick braids.
The girl in the mirror looks young. Much younger than I am.
Her eyes are wide, and she’s so pale that the freckles stand out against her skin. But the look in her eyes is determined.
I turn away from my reflection and leave the bathroom. Jase is downstairs with my parents and Caleb. I can hear their quiet voices, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. I don’t have to. I know it’s about me.
The stairs squeak as I walk down, following the scent of chocolate chip pancakes.
My stomach is growling. My family is sitting in the living room, Mom and Dad on the sofa, Caleb in the armchair, and Jase cross-legged on the floor.
The sight is so familiar that I start to tear up again, but I bite my lower lip so I don’t sob.
Dad notices me first. A gentle smile appears on his face, but it doesn’t cover his worry. He looks just as tired as the other three.
“Hey, sweetie,” he says. “How are you?”
I just shrug, because I don’t have a real answer. I don’t know how I am, besides obviously not good. I feel so empty. Mom turns to me. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying all night, and now they’re wet again, but she manages to smile. “Do you want something to eat?”
I nod, and Mom gets up and guides me to her spot on the couch, and a moment later, there’s a plate in front of me on the coffee table.
Caleb and Jase watch silently as I choke down a few bites.
I can’t taste anything, and after three tries, my throat closes, and I can’t get any more down.
I push the plate away and pull up my legs, biting my lip and tasting blood as the wound from yesterday opens. I hesitate.
I know what I want. I know what I have to do. For myself.
I look up, and my gaze falls on Jase. Of course. Always. He gives me a small, encouraging smile. He knows what I want to say.
I take a deep breath and spit it out.
“Mom, Dad? Will you go with me to the police?”
* * *
But we don’t get that far. Dad is upstairs changing, Mom is talking to her lawyer on the phone, and Caleb, Jase, and I are still sitting in the living room when the doorbell rings.
Caleb and Jase exchange an alarmed glance as my stomach cramps up.
Mom and Dad canceled all their meetings and appointments. It’s Sunday, so it can’t be the mailman. That only leaves . . . I have no idea. I’m not sure if I even want to know.
Caleb heaves himself out of the chair. “I’ll get it,” he says unnecessarily. I’m certainly not going to go, and Mom is on the phone and didn’t notice. I just nod and watch as he disappears into the hall.
“Hey.” I turn to Jase when I hear his soft voice. He’s sitting next to me on the sofa now; I didn’t even notice he was there.
“Hey.” I manage a painful smile and reach for his hand, because I need it.
I need his touch. I need the feel of his skin.
Our fingers intertwine, and his eyes flash with relief.
I know what he’s thinking because I’ve thought about it too.
He’s afraid I might not want to be touched by him anymore.
That the panic will come back. The trembling.
That everything will start over again from the beginning.
But right now, at least, it’s not happening. At this moment, I can breathe better just because he’s touching me. Right now, he’s keeping me from falling apart.
“Zoe?” Caleb’s voice. He sounds different, and I can’t quite figure out what it is. Stunned? Incredulous? Maybe both.
Jase and I both turn to him at once. My brother is standing in the doorway, pale and wide-eyed. Behind him are two uniformed police officers with serious expressions on their faces.
I feel cold. My fingers dig into Jase’s hand so hard I’m sure I’m hurting him, but he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezes my hand tighter. I can feel the tension in his body. It’s a reflection of my own. I want to ask why they’re here, but I can’t make a sound.
Caleb’s chest heaves visibly as he takes a breath. “Zoe, the police would like to speak to you. Reed turned himself in.”