Wrong Girl

Chapter Fifteen

I've been sitting on the bathroom floor for the last thirty minutes. My intention was to run a hot bath, immerse myself in it and try to forget about every single even that took place this evening. I didn't even make it through my front door before I broke down in tears. I carried my wretched body into the bathroom and collapsed against the wall, falling to the floor in what I can only describe as a hopeless mess.

I've refused to acknowledge what happened to me when I was seven years old. It's always been far too painful for me to admit what happened to myself, let alone to anyone else and I just can't do it, I cannot allow myself to remember. Not now, not ever.

A loud banging on my front door yanks me out of my reflective and destitute state. I frantically fumble for the handle on the bathroom door so I can pull myself up, certain I no longer have the energy to stand by myself. I glance in the bathroom mirror and wipe away my tears, ignoring the black mascara I only succeed in smearing everywhere.

I'm guessing its Jason who's demanding I answer the front door, persistently knocking until I surrender and let him in. I still haven't seen him since Sunday morning when he made that ridiculously inappropriate suggestion to me and I'm sure he's desperate to apologise and take back his offer. However, that still doesn't mean I want to talk to him right now or that I want him to see me in this state.

I think about ignoring him. I can always say I was asleep if he decides to tackle me about it later. I just can't be doing with explaining myself to him right now, or to anyone for that matter.

The sound of my phone ringing is the next disturbance, startling me into action. I hurry into the living room and reach for my phone, groaning when I notice Zack's name come up across the screen. He's calling me.

"H-hello." I answer, struggling to hold the phone against my ear with my trembling hand. "Listen, you can't phone me right now, Zack. I think Jason's outside and I really don't want to speak to him right now."

"Sam, it's me outside. I need to talk to you so open up before I break this door down." He explains patiently, bringing the persistent knocking on my door to a halt.

"You're the one who's been banging on my front door?"

"Yes." He sighs wearily, quickly becoming impatient.

"But why are you here?" I ask, battling to maintain some of my dignity and composure.

"I'm here because I have to speak to you and I'm not going anywhere until you let me in. I'll camp out here all night if I have to." He says decidedly.

The fierce tone in his voice is enough to convince me that he's entirely serious. I dejectedly hang up the phone before bracing myself for the repercussions of our earlier conversation. I know he means what he says, he won't leave until I talk to him and I owe him that much at least.

"Come in." I say softly, opening the front door to my apartment.

"Thank you." He smiles weakly, brushing past me as he enters the living room.

He does a double take when he sees me, observing my dishevelled appearance, swollen eyes and smudged make-up.

"I know I look awful. I really need to start wearing waterproof mascara." I joke, raking my fingers through my blonde tresses.

"Am I the reason for that? Or is it something else?" He asks, taking a step closer towards me.

"W-what do you mean?" I stammer nervously.

"Look, I came here for some answers and I'm not leaving until you give them to me."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Zack." I whisper, side stepping him when he gets too close.