Love Me When I'm Unlovable

Chapter 23: Rita

His hands. I can feel them. All over my body. He's whispering in my ear that I'm trapped. Don't I already know that? He's whispering that I have nowhere to run. I can see his face. It's right there. My own face looks back at me like there's an invisible mirror. It laughs. Weak. Small. Unimportant. You're worth so little your own sister left you. The words echo in my head over and over. At first, they're His words. Then, at some point that I can't tell,l his words turn into my family's- my mother's and my brother's- words of disappointment.

I thrash around, struggling to escape his grasp. For a second, I do, just to be pushed back into this hellish nightmare by Hannah. My own sister. He grabs me. He runs his hands through my hair. I scream. I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Rita!" Someone yells. Finally. A savior. I can feel Lucas shaking me. What's he going to do?

Get away from me. I try to pull away, but his grasp is firm. He's still shaking me.

"Rita! Wake up!"

I jerk awake, a cold sweat forming on my brow. My body hums with nervous energy. I'm breathing like I just ran a marathon. I pinch my eyes shut, but seconds later, my eyes flash open, wide as dinner plates, I'm sure. I'm certain I'm sitting in a puddle of my own sweat right now. I can still see his face.

I grab my head and curl into a ball. I can see it. His face, Hannah's face, all just right there. It's all so vivid and clear. I remember looking to Hannah for help, crawling to her at one point, just for her to push me away or turn away so she couldn't see my trembling form. I remember blood seeping down the side of my face. I resisted him. I shouldn't have. I put up a fight. I shouldn't have. My head felt heavy. I just wanted to curl up and die. Lucas left the room. That was when Hannah grabbed his phone, called 911, and left it next to me to make it look like I had crawled to it and called. Because Lord knows if Lucas came back, it couldn't be her that helped me. She wouldn't have taken the fall for me. She would've stood back and watched as he ripped more of my sanity away. That's what sisters do, right?

Why did I ever think I could trust her?

I know why. It's because I did trust her. There was a time when I took pride in calling her my sister. There was a time when I looked to her for all the answers in life, when I went to her when I couldn't sleep. That time is long gone, and I've learned something from it. You can't trust anyone. So why bother trying? You can hand your heart to them on a platter, and all they'll do is spit it back out at you. Lesson one in What Foster Care Teaches You.

I feel a rush of heat against my left cheek. My cheek burns as if someone has slapped me. My eyes jerk open to find LeAnna sitting in front of me, staring at her hand in horror.

"I'm so sorry," she rushes to say. "You looked like you were in pain, but you wouldn't respond. And I didn't know what to do, so I just sort of- I'm sorry."

"No, I needed that," I say, shaking my head. "Thank you." I rub my arm up and down. My hand traces the bandage on the side of my face. It's been reduced since a week ago. They took out the stitches a few days ago and informed me that the likelihood that I would have a scar was pretty significant. Fun, isn't it? Permanent marks of traumatic events. Those are the best kind.

"What time is it?" I ask. My head starts to throb. This always happens. A flashback or a nightmare, followed by a horrible migraine. I rub my temples gently, trying not to throw up.

"It's five in the morning," LeAnna says. Her brow knits in worry. "Is it a migraine?"

I nod wordlessly. My head pounds in my ears. The left and right side of my head throbs with intensity.

LeAnna gently pulls my hands away, helping me lie down and pulling a sleeping mask over my eyes to block the light. She gently rubs my back for a few minutes.