Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jennifer
“Look who’s found herself alone in the dark.”
“There’s no one else around.”
“No one can hear you scream.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
“You shouldn’t have rejected me, you fucking tease.”
I pop my head up out of the water with a gasp, my wet hair sticking to my face in clumps. Clearing it out of my eyes, I lean forward in the tub and press my forehead to my knees, eyes squeezed shut.
I wasn’t trying to drown myself; I was just trying to drown the memories in my head for just a second.
It didn’t work.
Why can I still hear those growled words after four years? I feel like I should be over it by now.
It’s not like I’ve had a multi-year long pity-party. I’ve been spending my time trying to act like the old me, which I’ve been told on many occasions, I’m nothing like.
It’s a useless endeavor, yet I continue beating the dead horse.
While I may mostly look the same on the outside, my insides have morphed into something unrecognizable.
I roll my head to the side, my eyes landing and lingering on my razor sitting on the edge of my large clawfoot tub. What would it feel like to run it over my skin? To feel that little bite of pain? Would it be satisfying? Would it take the memories away?
I never imagined I’d be someone who’d do that, but maybe—
My phone vibrating on the bathroom counter jolts me from my morbid thoughts. I quickly rise out of the water and grab a towel, wrapping it around myself as I retrieve my phone before it buzzes to the tile floor.
Dad. I silence the vibrating and dry off.
I called in sick today, and he’s probably not happy about it, even though this is the first sick day I’ve taken this year. I’m basically Dad’s errand girl now, doing everything and nothing at all. I’m not important in the company, so I’m sure they’ll be fine without me for one day.
The nightmares were particularly vivid and persistent last night, so I barely slept. I just needed a personal day to get my head straight. A bath obviously didn’t work.
I get dressed and then sink onto the couch with my phone, flicking away the missed call notification from Dad, then pull up Jersey’s contact. It’s been a couple of months since we last talked, so I type out a message, hoping to quiet some of these thoughts and reconnect.
I was already hearing from them less and less, but once I dropped out of college, it became even more sporadic.
Me: Hey. Been thinking about you.
Her reply is instant.
Jersey: OMG. I literally thought about you the other day.
Jersey: We should totally get together soon.
Me: I’m free this weekend.
My teeth gnaw on my bottom lip while I wait for her response. We’ve done this dance so many times, yet I keep coming back for more.
Minutes later, a message comes through.
Jersey: I have plans already ? But maybe next weekend?
I sigh, knowing I’d likely get that answer. ‘Maybe next weekend’ has been her go-to phrase for the past year.
Sadly, next weekend never happens.
Me: Sure.
My smile is sad. I know I’m keeping a grip on something that shriveled up and died a long time ago. I don’t know why. Loneliness?
Me: So, what have you been up to?
I get up and walk into the kitchen, pulling out some juice from the fridge and pouring a glass.
Jersey: I’ve actually been getting some hands-on experience in the classroom which has been pretty cool!
Me: That’s really great. I’m happy for you.
Jersey has always wanted to be a teacher and is getting her Bachelor of Education.
Even though jealousy tries creeping its way in because everything has been so easy for her, I truly am glad things are working out in her life.
Jersey: Oh! Do you remember Jason? He was friends with Jacob and came to UIC for a bit?
I grimace at the mention of Jacob, but I nod to myself because I do remember him.
I also remember Dylan and the guys, and even Jersey and Marni, harassing him for a while after that night happened.
While I don’t know if Jacob’s friends knew his intentions beforehand, I never agreed with my friends bothering any of them and often told them to just leave them alone. Jason was a specific target since he went to the same college.
The memory of me crashing into Mase on the sidewalk that one Halloween pops into my mind. I’m not sure if he was ever harassed by the guys.
I actually think I saw him last week when I was dropping off cookies at the homeless shelter.
I clear my thoughts with a shake of my head.
Me: Yeah. What about him?
Jersey: Apparently, he overdosed and his funeral was yesterday in Plainfield. Isn’t that crazy?!
I stand straighter while gripping my phone, forehead bunched. He’s . . . dead?
Me: What?? Are you serious?
I didn’t even know him, but a weird sensation crawls up from my stomach and squeezes my chest tight at the thought. Dead?
Jersey: Yeah. And someone told me that Mase and Campbell got into a fight right there at the gravesite. Can you imagine?
No, I really can’t.
Jersey: I feel bad for his parents. Anyway, I’ll text next week so we can hang out.
I drop my phone on the counter beside me without replying, staring out at the cloudy sky through one of the large windows in this large penthouse apartment my dad got me. He thought I’d be less depressed living here, but I think it has too much space.
My eyes blur and I blink back the tears. I don’t know why Jason’s death feels so bothersome to me. Maybe it’s because I know my friends harassed him on my behalf and it has never sat right with me. I know it was a long time ago, but still.
And what is up with Campbell and Mase fighting at his grave? I can’t even imagine what could have spurred that on at such a time, though I’m sure emotions were running high.
Returning to the living room, I sit back down on the couch with my heart irrationally hurting for a person who was friends with my attacker.
It’s not like I’d want to be stuck in a room with any of them, but he never did anything to me, and it was still a loss of life, which is sad. And he was so young.
I puff my cheeks and blow out a breath, dropping my head back to look at the ceiling.
The journal my mom got me catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. It sits on the overpriced end table, unused.
I pick it up and flip through the empty pages. I’ve never been a diary type person, and I’m not sure what I’d even put in there.
DEAR DIARY,
My life sucks.
Talk to you later.
It’s funny how Dad got me this apartment, but didn’t offer to spend time with me in it. And Mom got me this journal, but didn’t offer to be a listening ear.
They took care of things all right, just not me.
At least Dad gave me some time before I have to start some online classes of his choosing. He finally understood that I may not be ready to jump into learning about running a business. And that’s why he started me in the shallow end as his errand girl.
Once I’m ready to start the online courses, he’ll hook me up with a shelter of my choice. Of course, I know I don’t need to wait for him to do that. I can walk in and apply to volunteer at any one of them at any time.
But I think I also needed time to accept my new future. Time to readjust.
With another sigh, I push off the couch and return to the kitchen. Time to make some more cookies.