Don't Touch Her

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Katie and her parents showed up, they asked question after question, wanting to know what happened, if he hurt me. I only answered with nods or with a shake of my head. I couldn't speak.

Everything was still so fresh on my mind.

He was...

Was he trying...

I didn't want to finish those sentences.
I knew what he was trying to do, but I still wanted to deny the facts.

But why do I? Men are this way, men want things, men desire things, and they'll take it if they have to.

I felt tears in my eyes, and that was when Clara politely asked them to go home.

She sat down on the couch next to me and took my hand.
"Violet... it's okay," she said, struggling to form the words.

I wanted to cry, but I held them back.

Crying makes you weak.

Are you crying?... Get up!

I shook my head, wanting to shake the memories.

"L- I'm... I'm going to bed," my voice shook.

"Violet," Clara said. But I ignored her. I went to my room and locked the door, locked the windows, and put my puny dresser against the door.

There was a soft knock.
"Violet... I don't..." She paused and I could hear her softly crying. "Dominic is here."

I stood by the door.

"... He's waiting outside," she added, almost fearfully.

I waited, wanting to wait for her to leave, but she knocked again.

"... Okay," I said finally. "I'll go out."
I grabbed my coat and zipped it up, pulled the dresser away, and walked out.

Clara stood outside my door. She wiped the tears away and grabbed my hands, squeezing them. "It'll be okay," she said.

Slowly, I opened the front door.

Dominic stood there leaning against the post on the porch, with his arms crossed over his chest.
His jaw was set, and his eyes looked dark.

"Are you okay?" He asked.
I slowly nodded.
"What did he - Where did he touch you?" His voice had hardened, mad.

I swallowed and looked down.
"You son of a-" He walked off the porch, angrily running his hands through his hair.
"What did he look like? I'm swear I'm gonna kill him. Tell me what he looked like? Are there cameras?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to look him in the eyes.

"I swear. That son of- Violet, tell me what he looked like." He came closer.

Tears filled my eyes, "... I can't," I said, my voice started to shake. "I... I don't, I can't."
I swallowed, biting down on the inside of my cheek, trying not to cry.

He stood there quietly for a moment, before he leaned down, his voice was softer. "Violet, I'm sorry. I just... I'm so mad right now. I'll kill him."

I sniffed, putting a gloved hand against my nose. "Violet," he said. I looked at him as he had started to wrap his arms around me.
My body stiffened.

I pushed down hard on my teeth, trying to keep the tears at bay. I wanted to cry, so, so much.

His hold on me tightened, "Violet, did he hurt you anywhere?"
I shook my head.

"When do you work next? I swear I'm taking you from now on, and I'm picking you up. I don't want you to work by yourself again. Someone else needs to be there. You're-" He looked at me, "you're so small... anyone could do something to you."

"...I work Sunday night... They gave me a week off."

He nodded, "you're okay?" He asked softly.
Slowly, I nodded, when in all reality, I just wanted to curl up in my bed and cry until I couldn't anymore.

"Clara wouldn't mind if I stayed here for the night, would she?"
I looked up at him.
"I just want to make sure you're safe."

I took a step back, keeping my eyes on the ground, "I don't think she would."

"Then the both of you stay at my parents. I don't want you here by yourself, Violet."

I glanced at the door and nodded. "Okay."

We spent the night at Katie's and thankfully, they didn't ask any more questions.

Clara and I slept in the guest bedroom they had. A small room with its own bathroom and a queen size bed. I had never slept in anything that big.

Clara didn't say a word. She faced away from me. I stared at her. Her strawberry-blonde hair that reached just past her shoulders and her back, so many scars hiding underneath the fabric.

I almost wanted to say something, break the quiet, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Violet..." she said after some time. "Was... Was it that man?" She asked, referring to the man I had told her about, the man who was sitting on the bench across the street, the man we both pretended not to be worried about.

"... Yes."

She turned over in the bed and looked at me. She looked sad and scared, but as if she was on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry, Violet, I tried... I never wanted this to happen to you. I'm so sorry," she said, tears sliding down her cheeks. She looked up at me and quickly wiped them away, then looked around the room cautiously, expectantly.

"It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have possibly known," I said, trying to reassure her.

She wiped at another tear, "I wish I had. I could have done something."

I grabbed her hand and squeezed.