As if anyone would want them, even if I could.
That soreness between my legs was enough to drive me insane, that constant reminder of who had been there. I didn’t want to look, didn’t want to touch, didn’t want any more proof of what had happened. Instead, I deftly reached out a hand to shut off the spout. I pressed my back against the cold tile wall and slid down until I sat again, my knees against my chest, my hands in my wet, wild, and curly hair.
I didn’t know what I expected.
All the words they say make it sound so easy. You get assaulted? You tell someone — and everything will be okay. But if there was one thing my father taught me before he died it was that actions speak louder than words. And the actions when it came to rape cases were loud and clear.
The victim was rarely believed. When she was, she rarely won in court. When she did, the attacker rarely got a sentence. When he did, he rarely served it all.
The truth was there was no winning — not when you’d been raped. Not when the first man to ever touch you did so without asking permission, without kissing you first, without telling you he loved you.
On that cold, wet, tile floor of my dorm room shower, I realized my home had been full of monsters all along. I’d just never seen them before. And now that I had, there was no going back.
I was the girl who cried wolf.
But I vowed to myself that I would not be the girl who let the wolf win.
Reese
My boots crunched the old, dirty snow with every step I took down Charlie’s parents’ driveway toward my car. My hands were shoved in my pockets, eyes on my feet, but my head was still inside that house.
My heart was still inside that house.
I’d long surrendered to the fact that I was a masochist. What other man in his right mind would keep contact with a woman and her family after she blatantly rejected him? Charlie had been my best friend’s little sister when I was younger, but she’d always been something more. We both knew it. And when life had brought me back here — back to Pittsburgh and back to her — I thought we’d finally have our chance.
It didn’t matter to me that she was married, not when I saw how miserable she was. But I was the stupid, selfish, cocky son-of-a-bitch who went after a married woman thinking there was no way she couldn’t choose me.
It turned out, her husband wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.
And fight we did, Cameron and I. For months, we fought for that woman’s love, for her heart, and in the end, he won.
Right then and there, I should have let go.
I should have moved to a different city, or a different state altogether. I should have blocked them out of every facet of my life — starting with Charlie. But instead, I watched her from a distance at the school we both worked at, wishing she was mine, wishing there was someway to change her mind.
I would never act on it, of course, and I’d made that vow to both myself and to her. I loved her, and because I loved her, I respected her decision. If Cameron was who she wanted, if he was who made her happy, then that was all that mattered to me.
At least, it was… until I noticed Charlie’s stomach rounding, growing, and heard those two words from her lips.
I’m pregnant.
My stomach sank at the memory, and it slid all the way down to the icy driveway when I added in the news I’d received today. Because as hard as the hit was when I found out she was pregnant, it never could have measured up to what I would feel when she told me the child wasn’t mine.
Daisy wasn’t mine.
Eighteen long months had passed since the day Charlie walked through my door and told me she was staying with Cameron, and all that time I had wondered if that child in her belly was ours. When Daisy was born, it was too much for me to bare. I bit down my pride and went to her husband and I begged him to let me be a part of the child’s life — even if just as a distant “uncle.”
And because Cameron is five times the man I am, he’d agreed.
All this time, I’d wondered. All this time, I’d thought maybe…
And today, Charlie had quieted my thoughts. She’d had a paternity test, and Daisy was Cameron’s.
The door to my old car creaked when I opened it, and I ducked inside, ears ringing once the door was shut and I was alone in the too-silent vehicle. I shoved the key in the ignition, but didn’t start the engine. Instead, my hands fell to my lap, and I stared at the steering wheel as if it were to blame for everything.
Then, I beat the shit out of it.
Screams ripped from my throat as I lashed out, fists flying, and only the sound of a knuckle cracking and the horn ringing out stopped me. I gripped the wheel with both hands, chest heaving as I tried to school my breaths. My eyes fluttered shut, and I loosened my grip, running one hand back through my long hair before I let out a heavy sigh.
That was it.
The last thing tying me to Charlie turned out not to be a tie at all. She wasn’t mine, she hadn’t been for a long time… maybe not ever. But it wasn’t until that moment, until that final blow, that I really, truly believed it.
I’d still had hope.
I’d still thought there was a chance.
And underneath it all, I was trying to hide the pathetic fact that I wasn’t anywhere near being over her or moving on.
A year and a half, and she was still all I thought about. A year and a half, and she was still all I wanted.
My phone dinged with another notification from the stupid dating app Charlie had convinced me to get on and I tore it from my pocket, deleting the app and all the messages that lived inside it with two taps of my finger.
I let my head drop back against the head rest, and my heart squeezed painfully inside my chest. I was surprised I could even feel that ache anymore, surprised it hadn’t ebbed in any way as the months stretched and life marched on. I wondered if it was just a permanent part of me now, if there ever was a time I’d move on from Charlie Pierce.
The possibility that Daisy was mine had been my final tie to her. I didn’t have an excuse to hold on any longer…
And yet, I couldn’t imagine ever letting go.
Five Months Later
Sarah
The Kinky Starfish.
My fingers rolled around the crystal hanging from my neck as I stared at the neon sign, the white script elegantly dancing around an artistic pink starfish. Uncle Randall was making jokes with the employee valeting his car, and he was still laughing when he slid up beside me, hand folding over my shoulder.
I flinched away, and my uncle’s brows bent together before he dropped his hand back to his side.
“Well, this is the place,” he said, eyes following mine up to the sign. We were both quiet for a long moment before he glanced at me again. “You know, you really don’t have to do this. You don’t need to work while you’re here. Just, focus on the reason you came, and—”
“I have to work,” I interrupted. “I need to continue saving and I’m also going to pay you rent.”
“You’re not paying us rent,” Uncle Randall said, almost as a laugh. “That’s absurd.”
“But—”
“Look,” he said, pulling me to the side so the other patrons of the restaurant could pass. His hands framed my arms, and I flinched again. “I know you have that same strong will as your mother, and I love that about both of you. But, please, Sarah — don’t worry about paying us rent. If you want to work and save up money, that I understand. Put the money you would pay us toward your savings, instead.” He smiled. “We are just tickled to have the time with our niece. We don’t get to see you near as often as we’d like, and we’re just happy to help you pursue this dream of yours.”