Remember Me Not

FORTY-SEVEN - AFTER

"It was me," I say. "The girl who wrote the letter. The girl who Josh assaulted." I look up then, bracing myself for a reaction that might throw me off track, but Elliot remains as calm as ever. It leaves me space to clarify. "The thing is, though... I didn't lie to you before. Not intentionally, anyway. When you asked if he ever hurt me. I said no, because that's genuinely what I thought at the time."

"Morgan. You don't owe me an explanation."

"I know," I tell him. "And I know it sounds weird, but I just... couldn't remember. It was like my brain completely blacked out everything from that night. Not because I was drunk or took something. It just disappeared completely, and it stayed that way for months. I didn't even know I'd written the letter. Hell, I was even convinced Hanna had written it. But for some reason it's come back to me, just like that. I can't believe I ever couldn't remember it. All this time... it was me."

He's looking right at me, unafraid of eye contact, and I wonder if he can read me as deeply as his gaze seems to suggest. I hope not, since there's obviously a little more to the story that I don't plan on telling him.

"Oh, Morgan," he says, his expression softening. "I'm sorry."

"No." The word barrels out of me without warning; it takes both of us by surprise. "Don't say you're sorry. Because that's part of what I hate about this. I've barely had a chance to process the information, and already I feel like a victim. I feel like this giant label has been slapped on my forehead, when in reality nothing's changed. I should be the same person I was yesterday. I want to be that person. So why do I already feel so different?"

The familiar threat of tears stings my eyes, emotion ready to overspill, but I'm determined to hold them back—even if it doesn't stop Elliot from noticing.

"You're right," he says. "Nothing's changed, and nothing more should have to. That includes my opinion of you. I'll take back my apology because I know you don't need it. But listen. When I also tell you how much admiration I have for you, how you're pretty much the strongest, most honest, and genuinely good person I know, and how lucky I count myself to have you in my life... well, that's not changed a bit."

It brings a smile to my face, obviously. But it doesn't fix everything. "It's just not fair," I tell him. "Josh brought his label on himself. He could've chosen differently. Me, on the other hand—I got no say in the matter, and now I'm going to be a victim for the rest of my life."

"Only if you want to think of yourself that way."

"What else is there?"

"Being the girl who spoke out," he says. "The girl who told her story and exposed the truth about a guy who would've otherwise been immortalized as a saint. But to the rest of the world, you don't have to be anything. You may have revealed Josh, but you don't have to reveal yourself."

He's right. When I think about it, there's no reason for this revelation to go any further than the two of us. The truth came out a while ago and did its job then. What is there to be gained my unmasking myself? The initial frenzy has already died down, campus' attention drawn to wherever Hanna directs it next, and a new piece of gossip would only stoke the flames again. It wouldn't be good for anyone—least of all me.

Realizing it comes as such a relief.

"How do you do it?" I ask, after a moment's pause. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"

He chuckles, but once his gaze drifts away from me the silence beds in and it's less comfortable than I was going for.

"Believe me, I really don't," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I thought that was obvious from the way I took off that night. And how I haven't had the courage to speak to you since."