Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Jennifer
Ipeel my eyes open to the sun bathing my bedroom in cheery light. I should have gotten up and closed the damn curtains hours ago, but I haven’t been able to force myself to get out of bed.
I’ve been lying here for some time, dozing on and off after very little sleep last night.
My reality feels fractured, everything coated with a murky haze.
I had spent an hour in the shower, only getting out because my teeth were chattering so hard from the cold water spraying my ruined body on the shower floor.
As soon as I had dried my tender skin, I dressed and got into bed.
My mom had come into my room a short time after, but I pretended to be asleep until she left, not wanting to hear what she had to say.
It would have been something like, “Don’t worry about this; your father and I will take care of everything. ”
Take care of everything but me, that is. A common theme in my life.
Real sleep was harder to come by, unfortunately, and any time I did manage to drift off, it was fitful and laced with nightmares about what happened.
Imagination woven with memories.
My full bladder finally forces me out of my warm haven. On silent feet, I make the trip out of my room and down the hall, not wanting to run into anyone who might be home.
My body feels achy as I walk, used in ways it’s not familiar with.
The lights in the bathroom feel like they’re shining a spotlight on me when I turn them on, so I flick them off again, leaving the room in muted sunshine from the skylight.
I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to look at the damage done, the damaged body I’m left with. I don’t want the visual reminder.
Unfortunately, the burning sensation while I pee is something I can’t escape from, and my chest caves a little while more tears spring to my eyes.
Breathe. Breathe.
One breath at a time.
I wash my hands with my eyes lowered, then quickly get out of there.
On the way back from the bathroom, my dad’s raised voice can be heard through his closed office door. I didn’t realize he was in there when I walked past it earlier.
Thank goodness I was quiet, and he didn’t hear me.
A tiny part of me wants to know what he thinks about what happened now that he’s had time to ruminate on it. Does he blame me? Is he angry with me?
The bigger part of me doesn’t want to know any of those things and would rather hide away, wishing he had no clue what happened to me.
There’s an icky feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach, wishing no one knew.
I rush past his door, determined not to listen, but his voice rises to a level I’m sure the whole house can hear, and I pause.
“I don’t care if the results haven’t come back yet. She was assaulted and the boy was there. Put two and two together. No one fucking touches my daughter and gets away with it. Do what you need to do and make an example of him for this town.”
The smallest amount of relief oozes into my system at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be blaming me.
But my stomach hits the floor when I think about the rest of what he said. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my waist as if I can keep the rest of my organs inside.
Making an example of him means shoving me further into the spotlight. Exactly what I don’t want. It would be made public, talked about everywhere.
Rushing back to my room, I dive back into bed, burying myself under the covers and closing my eyes once again, hoping that when I wake, this will all have been a terrible dream.
*~*~*~*
It wasn’t a dream.
Two days later, the air in my bedroom feels stuffy and thick. The curtains may still be open, but the window is not. The two days of me hiding in here finally has the filth I feel inside bleeding out onto my surroundings.
My thoughts have been like an untended garden with weeds growing out of control and taking over what were once bright flowers, leaving an ugly mess of space.
Deep down, I know what happened wasn’t my fault. I know that Jacob is the one with the filthy soul.
Yet, I’m the one who feels dirty.
Why is it that I feel shame for what happened to me?
Why is it that I am the one hiding away from everyone?
Sexual assault was talked about in school; I’ve read about it in books, and seen it in movies, but there was always a disconnect. I never believed it would happen to me . . . never believed it could.
Now it has.
People can tell you what it might be like, how you might feel, or even how their friend felt going through it, but until you’ve lived through it yourself, you can’t understand the mixed array of emotions and feelings associated with it.
Sliding my legs out of the blanket, I force myself into a sitting position, telling myself I need to pull it together. If I bury myself away in here, then Jacob keeps winning. He doesn’t care what happens to me now; he already got what he wanted.
Before I’ve even gotten to my feet, there’s a knock, and the soft murmurings of Jersey and Marni reach me through the door. My first instinct is to hide under the covers and pretend I’m still asleep, regardless of the time. I’m not sure I’m ready to face them.
But I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to face them about this. I guess it’s better to rip the band-aid off and get it out of the way now.
Straightening my rumpled tank and shorts, I turn to the door. “Come in.”
The door flies open, and my two best friends rush in. I wish I felt a spark of relief or the warmth of comfort at seeing them.
“Oh my God, Jen,” Jersey exclaims, face twisted. “I can’t believe . . .” Her sentence trails off as she sits on the bed beside me and wraps me in her arms. Her touch and the feel of being enclosed brings a sudden urge to shove her away, but I force myself not to react outwardly.
Marni is next to sweep me into her arms from her position in front of me. Once she’s pulled back, I shift so I’m sitting against my headboard a little further away from the two of them.
Space.
They both stare at me for a moment, their eyes brushing over my cheek. I almost forgot I had a bruise there. It’s easy to do when you refuse to look in a mirror.
Seconds tick by before Marni’s nose crinkles, her eyes swinging to the unopened windows.
“I’m just going to let some fresh air in, okay?
” Not waiting for a response, she walks over, sliding the glass open as far as it goes.
“That’s better.” Slowly, the stifling warm air is replaced by something more breathable.
There’s an awkward silence that fills the room once Marni plops down on the bed beside Jersey. They don’t know what to say. Neither do I.
These are my best friends: girls who know more about me than my parents, girls who are closer to me than anyone. Yet right now, it feels like a world of space sits between us.
How can I talk to them about how I’m feeling when I can’t even put it into words? When they wouldn’t even be able to understand? When I don’t even want to discuss it?
I wonder if we’d be able to pretend nothing ever happened.
With a twist of her fingers and a clearing of her throat, Jersey finally breaks the silence. “I’m so sorry for leaving you. If I’d only stayed outside with you . . .”
I guess I’m not the only one who’s been drowning in the what-ifs. The fact is, we can fill up our entire lives with what-ifs, drive ourselves to madness thinking about them, but nothing could ever change the past, only the choices we make for the future.
Nothing I do now can erase what was done. But the cycle continues, regardless. What if, what if, what if . . .
And so I sit here festering, fighting the flickers of memories and my own imagination.
I hear the echo of a grunt in my ear and internally flinch before refocusing on them. A glossy sheen covers Jersey’s eyes, and a look of pity fills them.
“It’s not your fault. Neither of yours,” I add when I see guilt on Marni’s face. She’s always been a little tougher, a little harder, so to see her emotions surfacing just adds to my messed-up state and I have to look away.
“I should have taken you to dance with me,” Marni says, her voice sounding pained.
“Or just sat with you a little longer. The guys all feel bad as well.” My eyes fly back to her at that.
“They’ve all been giving Jacob’s friends a hard time.
Dylan’s personally taken it upon himself to make sure people know what happened and who was responsible.
He’s even warned people to stay away from them, though Mase seems to have already separated himself from them on his own. ”
She says it all as if Dylan is a good guy for doing that, for sticking up for me. I just wish he’d mind his own business and stay out of mine. Another wave of unease passes through my stomach, and I settle a hand on top of it.
“I don’t want him out there talking on my behalf—I don’t want anyone talking about it at all.
It’s bad enough that my parents are determined to make an example of Jacob and make it even more public.
” I scrub both hands over my face, then keep my face buried there.
“The thought of everyone knowing and whispering about it is as if there’s a sex tape out there that they’re all watching. ”
“It’s not like that,” Jersey tries to reassure.
“I know it’s not, but my mind is so fucked up right now, that’s how it’s making me feel.” I look up to find my friends watching me with uncertainty.
“You should come to brunch with us,” Marni says, squeezing my toes. “You can see for yourself that it’s not as bad as you think.”
Panic tightens my chest at the thought of it. All those people looking at me, judging me, or feeling sorry for me. “I can’t.” I fold my arms across my chest as if that will somehow loosen the threads of fear strangling it.
The two of them share a look, unspoken words said between them that I don’t bother trying to decipher.
Marni scoots a little closer. “Come on, babe; you need to get out.”