I tried calling Tyson first, but he didn't answer. Ethan picked up on the first ring.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"Where's Tyson?"
"Don't know."
"Are you okay?"
"I think . . . maybe . . . I'm not sure." I paused, and pushed aside my damn pride. "Can you just come home, please?"
"I'll be there soon."
"Ethan . . ."
"Yeah?"
"I'm hiding in the closet."
He cursed before hanging up.
I was weak.
Pathetic.
Scared.
Stupid.
***
"Dimmy," he called out. I heard his footsteps get closer just before the closet door swung open. His expression went from panic, to relief, to sympathy. "You're okay," he soothed, taking a seat on the floor next to me. "You're okay," he said again, but this time to himself.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry you." I looked up at him.
"Don't ever apologize for that." He ran his hand through his hair and wriggled a little on the floor until he was comfortable. "You want to talk about it . . . what you're feeling . . . or whatever?" He seemed uneasy.
"I don't know. I thought I was okay, E. I really did. But then I was here alone and I just . . . started to remember . . ."
"And you got scared?"
I nodded.
"Do you remember it?"
I nodded again, biting my lip to stop the sob. "I just wanted them to stop. They wouldn't stop. They just kept hitting him—"
"That's it?" he cut in. "That's what you think about? That they hurt him?" His tone was sharp. "What about you, Dimmy? How about the fact that they hurt you? How about the fact that Logan just fucking left and hurt you? Or the fact that he's still hurting you? Every day he's gone, and you're hurting. That's all you can think about—that asshole?"
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to calm down.
"How are those self-defense classes going?" He changed the subject.
"Good," I said truthfully. "I'm getting more confident."
He squeezed my hand. "Good." Then he lifted it and studied my wrist. "He doesn't deserve this," he stated, motioning his head towards it. He stood and offered me his hand. "I called Tyson. He's coming home, we're going mini golfing."
"Mini golf?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yeah." He pushed me out of the closet, through my bedroom, down the hallway and into the living room. "It'll be good times, promise."
Tyson came home five minutes later, apologizing for leaving. He hadn't realized I was home. He kept apologizing, even though I kept telling him it was fine. I wasn't his responsibility. I wasn't Ethan's, either.
An hour later, we were mini golfing. Ethan and Ty shared a flask. I drove, opting not to share in the extracurricular.
It was the first night since he’d left where I felt like myself again, even for a little while.
We laughed. Hard. It really was good times.
***
Tyson knocked on my door and popped his head in. "You decent?"
I was already in bed, ready to call it a night. "Yup."
"Dammit," he joked. He made a show of jumping on the bed before lying next to me. He turned his head to face me, blinking hard a few times.
"Are you wasted?" I asked, giggling when he scrunched his nose. They hadn't stopped drinking whatever was in the flask until a few minutes ago. I eyed him, waiting for his answer. He'd gotten so handsome over the past few years. His features were more defined, manlier.
"I think so. I don't know what Ethan had in that flask, but it's worked its magic into my system."
I laughed. "Magic?"
He nodded, turning his entire body to face me. I did the same. His scruffy dark hair was all over the place.
"Quit checking me out," he teased.
I laughed into my pillow. I wasn't going to deny it, I kind of was.
I felt him move forward until his body was flush against mine. The heat of his arms as they wrapped around me, engulfed me. He pulled me in so my face was on his chest.
I muffled into his chest. "What are you—"
He cut in before I could finish. "Sshh, Dim. Just let me do it." I let my body relax. He must've felt it, because he brought me even closer. "I've wanted to hold you like this since I moved in," he said, pulling back and looking at my face. "Are you okay?"
The concern in his face broke my heart. "Yeah, Tyson. I am." I put my arms around him. "I promise."
"I'm not talking about him. I mean . . ." He cleared his throat. "You were almost raped."
My breath hitched. No one had ever said those words aloud. Not to me, anyway. "I don't think about it. Almost doesn't count."
"That's bullshit. It has to count for something."
"It could've been a lot worse."
"Yeah, or it could have been prevented completely."
I reared back, a little pissed off at his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He exhaled loudly. "Nothing. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm buzzed. Sorry." He brought my head back closer to him, but now we were face to face: his nose against mine, our lips almost touching. He closed his eyes slowly. "Goodnight, Dim," he said, right before he kissed me.
I let him.
It wasn't passionate. It wasn't intimate. There was no tongue. No movement. It just was. When he pulled back, he sighed. "I know you're still in love with him."
I didn't speak.
I didn't agree.
I didn't deny.
I didn't know how I felt.
***
I woke up the next morning and he was gone. I must have fallen asleep in his arms. Some nights, I'd had nightmares. Last night, I didn't.
I don't truly understand why, but the fact that I was almost raped didn't really ring true. Maybe I’d blocked it out, or maybe I was just so scared for Logan at the time that I didn't really understand what was happening until afterwards.
I remembered most of it so distinctly. I remembered him being held up, me saying his name, him finding the strength to break free, but then he fell to the floor. I’d wanted to reach him. I kept thinking that he'd find the strength again, but he couldn't get up, he just kept crawling toward me. It had all happened so fast, but his movements—they were so slow. I’d heard him say my name, right before he got kicked in the head. I’d screamed. It was so loud, it had echoed through the house. I’d screamed some more, and I’d thought for sure that if he could just hear me screaming, he would wake up. Surely, he would wake up. He had to.
I think my body shut down then, because I don't remember anything that happened after.
When I woke up in the hospital, the first thing I remember thinking was that maybe Logan and I were connected somehow, more than just a boy and a girl in love. Maybe our souls were entwined—if he hurt, I hurt. If he stopped breathing, I did, too. If he died, maybe I would die with him.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"Where's Tyson?"
"Don't know."
"Are you okay?"
"I think . . . maybe . . . I'm not sure." I paused, and pushed aside my damn pride. "Can you just come home, please?"
"I'll be there soon."
"Ethan . . ."
"Yeah?"
"I'm hiding in the closet."
He cursed before hanging up.
I was weak.
Pathetic.
Scared.
Stupid.
***
"Dimmy," he called out. I heard his footsteps get closer just before the closet door swung open. His expression went from panic, to relief, to sympathy. "You're okay," he soothed, taking a seat on the floor next to me. "You're okay," he said again, but this time to himself.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry you." I looked up at him.
"Don't ever apologize for that." He ran his hand through his hair and wriggled a little on the floor until he was comfortable. "You want to talk about it . . . what you're feeling . . . or whatever?" He seemed uneasy.
"I don't know. I thought I was okay, E. I really did. But then I was here alone and I just . . . started to remember . . ."
"And you got scared?"
I nodded.
"Do you remember it?"
I nodded again, biting my lip to stop the sob. "I just wanted them to stop. They wouldn't stop. They just kept hitting him—"
"That's it?" he cut in. "That's what you think about? That they hurt him?" His tone was sharp. "What about you, Dimmy? How about the fact that they hurt you? How about the fact that Logan just fucking left and hurt you? Or the fact that he's still hurting you? Every day he's gone, and you're hurting. That's all you can think about—that asshole?"
I stayed quiet, waiting for him to calm down.
"How are those self-defense classes going?" He changed the subject.
"Good," I said truthfully. "I'm getting more confident."
He squeezed my hand. "Good." Then he lifted it and studied my wrist. "He doesn't deserve this," he stated, motioning his head towards it. He stood and offered me his hand. "I called Tyson. He's coming home, we're going mini golfing."
"Mini golf?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yeah." He pushed me out of the closet, through my bedroom, down the hallway and into the living room. "It'll be good times, promise."
Tyson came home five minutes later, apologizing for leaving. He hadn't realized I was home. He kept apologizing, even though I kept telling him it was fine. I wasn't his responsibility. I wasn't Ethan's, either.
An hour later, we were mini golfing. Ethan and Ty shared a flask. I drove, opting not to share in the extracurricular.
It was the first night since he’d left where I felt like myself again, even for a little while.
We laughed. Hard. It really was good times.
***
Tyson knocked on my door and popped his head in. "You decent?"
I was already in bed, ready to call it a night. "Yup."
"Dammit," he joked. He made a show of jumping on the bed before lying next to me. He turned his head to face me, blinking hard a few times.
"Are you wasted?" I asked, giggling when he scrunched his nose. They hadn't stopped drinking whatever was in the flask until a few minutes ago. I eyed him, waiting for his answer. He'd gotten so handsome over the past few years. His features were more defined, manlier.
"I think so. I don't know what Ethan had in that flask, but it's worked its magic into my system."
I laughed. "Magic?"
He nodded, turning his entire body to face me. I did the same. His scruffy dark hair was all over the place.
"Quit checking me out," he teased.
I laughed into my pillow. I wasn't going to deny it, I kind of was.
I felt him move forward until his body was flush against mine. The heat of his arms as they wrapped around me, engulfed me. He pulled me in so my face was on his chest.
I muffled into his chest. "What are you—"
He cut in before I could finish. "Sshh, Dim. Just let me do it." I let my body relax. He must've felt it, because he brought me even closer. "I've wanted to hold you like this since I moved in," he said, pulling back and looking at my face. "Are you okay?"
The concern in his face broke my heart. "Yeah, Tyson. I am." I put my arms around him. "I promise."
"I'm not talking about him. I mean . . ." He cleared his throat. "You were almost raped."
My breath hitched. No one had ever said those words aloud. Not to me, anyway. "I don't think about it. Almost doesn't count."
"That's bullshit. It has to count for something."
"It could've been a lot worse."
"Yeah, or it could have been prevented completely."
I reared back, a little pissed off at his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He exhaled loudly. "Nothing. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm buzzed. Sorry." He brought my head back closer to him, but now we were face to face: his nose against mine, our lips almost touching. He closed his eyes slowly. "Goodnight, Dim," he said, right before he kissed me.
I let him.
It wasn't passionate. It wasn't intimate. There was no tongue. No movement. It just was. When he pulled back, he sighed. "I know you're still in love with him."
I didn't speak.
I didn't agree.
I didn't deny.
I didn't know how I felt.
***
I woke up the next morning and he was gone. I must have fallen asleep in his arms. Some nights, I'd had nightmares. Last night, I didn't.
I don't truly understand why, but the fact that I was almost raped didn't really ring true. Maybe I’d blocked it out, or maybe I was just so scared for Logan at the time that I didn't really understand what was happening until afterwards.
I remembered most of it so distinctly. I remembered him being held up, me saying his name, him finding the strength to break free, but then he fell to the floor. I’d wanted to reach him. I kept thinking that he'd find the strength again, but he couldn't get up, he just kept crawling toward me. It had all happened so fast, but his movements—they were so slow. I’d heard him say my name, right before he got kicked in the head. I’d screamed. It was so loud, it had echoed through the house. I’d screamed some more, and I’d thought for sure that if he could just hear me screaming, he would wake up. Surely, he would wake up. He had to.
I think my body shut down then, because I don't remember anything that happened after.
When I woke up in the hospital, the first thing I remember thinking was that maybe Logan and I were connected somehow, more than just a boy and a girl in love. Maybe our souls were entwined—if he hurt, I hurt. If he stopped breathing, I did, too. If he died, maybe I would die with him.
