We can’t do this, Reese.
You’re my teacher, I’m your student.
I’m sixteen years younger than you.
You work for my uncle.
I’m leaving for New York, I have my whole life ahead of me. And you… well, you’re nothing. You’re not what I need.
You’re not what would make me happy.
“I don’t know where to start,” she whispered after a long while.
I sighed, swallowing down any hopes that were still alive. “It’s okay, Sarah. You don’t have to say it. I know. I know what happened can’t happen again, and I know—”
“I was raped.”
Her hands clapped over her mouth as soon as the words were out, her eyes wide in horror as they lifted to meet my gaze. Tears welled over those golden irises so quickly she didn’t have time to try to stop them before they broke the levy of her lower lashes, falling down her cheeks to meet where her hands still covered her lips without so much as a blink.
For a moment, she stared at me like she couldn’t believe she’d said what she had, or like she was waiting for me to run, like somehow I would be tempted to bolt after what I’d just heard.
The only thing I was tempted to do was full on Hulk smash whoever the motherfucker was who put his hands on her without permission.
Everything slowed in that moment — my breathing, the strong beat of my heart in my chest, my thoughts. They almost came to me like zombies in a fog, slow and gruesome, disappearing again before I could latch onto them and digest them fully. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but try to breathe and loosen the menacing grip my fists had wound into.
I wanted to murder him, and I didn’t even know who him was.
More than that, I wanted to pull Sarah into my arms, shelter her from the pain, from the memory, from the tears falling freely from her eyes. I’d never had an urge to protect someone more in my entire life.
But all I could do was sit there, breathing.
And even that took all my effort.
Sarah dropped her hands into her lap along with her gaze, tears still leaking out of her eyes. Every now and then, she’d sniff, reach a hand up to wipe the wetness from her cheeks — all the while staring at her lap while I stared at her.
Nothing that came to mind felt right to say in that moment. I wanted to ask her who it was, when it happened, what happened to him when she told someone — did she tell anyone? I wanted to know if that motherfucker was in jail or if I could get his address and kick his ass myself.
But none of that would help Sarah. None of that would take her pain away.
I wasn’t sure anything ever could.
“It was my professor,” she whispered after the longest time. Her face broke again with the admission, letting more tears run freely. “That’s why I left Bramlock.”
My entire body squeezed on the next exhale, hands shaking as I ran them back through my hair with my eyes still on her. “Wolfgang?” I asked. “Wolfgang Edison… he… he…”
“Raped me?” Sarah asked, like she knew I didn’t even want to say the word. Her voice was stronger as she lifted her eyes to mine. “Yes. He did.”
My nose flared, muscles tensing with the urge to fly to Florida and fuck him up. No wonder she’d freaked out at the end-of-the-year concert when I’d mentioned him. I’d brought up the biggest monster of all right before she was about to perform. He was her professor, her teacher — the one she had to spend the most time with, the one she trusted the most.
I sobered at the realization that I was the same.
And I’d betrayed her trust, too.
She seemed almost numb as she stared at the kitchen counter. “It sounds awful when I say it out loud. You know?” She shook her head. “You always hear about it happening to other people, see it on TV, on the news, in the movies… but when it actually happens to you?” Sarah swallowed. “There is no more shameful pain in this entire world.”
I sucked in a breath that scorched my esophagus.
“Sarah,” I breathed her name, shaking my head as I swallowed past the burning thickness in my throat. I felt sick. I felt responsible. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry this happened to you.” I shook my head. “And you have nothing to feel ashamed of. Okay? Do you understand me? Nothing.”
Her face twisted again, eyes welling as she nodded.
Silence fell over us, Sarah sipping her water as I stared at the granite counter between us. I’d never been in this position, never been the one a woman trusted to tell something like this to. I was at a loss for words, and the longer the silence stretched between us, the shittier I felt. I wanted to hold her, comfort her, tell her it would be okay.
I wanted to go back to Sunday night and take back what I’d done.
“Sometimes, I feel stupid for not seeing it coming,” she confessed with a sniff. “There was this gut feeling, you know? Not at first. Not at any point in my first year working with him, if I’m being honest. But, sometime in my sophomore year, I started to feel his attention more. Sometimes, he would comment on my appearance, or touch me in a way that felt wrong. Like, once, after a rehearsal, he held his hand on the small of my back as he talked to the rest of the performers. It didn’t feel wrong, since it was in front of everyone and all, but… it didn’t feel right, either.”
Sarah paused, her eyes lifeless as they stared at the granite counter.
“But I didn’t question it. I trusted him, perhaps blindly. I just… I never thought…” She bit her lower lip, blinking several times. “Maybe if I wouldn’t have dressed the way I used to, or if I had talked to someone when I first felt uncomfortable. I mean, maybe I led him on, by not outright rejecting him. Maybe—”
“Sarah,” I interrupted, squeezing her hand in mine. I lowered my gaze until she looked at me. “It is not your fault. His actions are his responsibility, not yours. The way you dress, the way you look, the trust you gave him, the time you spent with him — none of that is permission to touch you. Okay?”
She looked down again, and the burn in my chest shifted, transforming in a need for her to understand.
“I don’t want to talk about it more right now, if that’s okay,” she said, blinking away the tears that were beginning to form again. “I just… I wanted to tell you because that’s why I ran. I wanted you to kiss me, Reese. And I wanted to do more than just kiss. But… I’m damaged goods. I’m fucked up.” The words came from her lips in bursts between her cries. “He was the first to touch me… to ever have me. And when you were touching me, I felt amazing. It was perfect. I wanted you. For the first time, I wanted to be kissed, to be touched… but then… I saw him. And felt him. And…” she choked, more tears falling. “Remembered him.”
“Jesus Christ.” I stood, rounding the counter until I was standing next to her. She turned in her stool just as I approached, standing when I reached her, and I pulled her into my arms and held her as tightly as I could. “I am so fucking sorry, Sarah. I am so sorry. But you’re okay. You’re safe. Okay? I promise.”
I wished I could hold her so tight I could take away what had happened, take away the pain, the memory. She cried harder now that she was in my arms, her small hands fisting in my t-shirt. And I gritted against the urge to break everything in my apartment since I couldn’t break Wolfgang’s face. He’d taken something so precious from her, something so delicate.