Lillia and Reeve

It was an accident

With dread in her heart, Lillia rang Drew's doorbell. His apartment was ridiculously fancy, with a shiny golden knocker and holiday wreath strung up on the doorway, never mind that Christmas wasn't for months.

Drew was slow to answer. Only after the second ring did he open the door. He was still in his boxers. His brand name boxers.

There were dark circles under his eyes. Gray hairs that hadn't been there before. Wrinkles around his lips that made him look permanently stressed.

Everyone said junior year was the hardest, but Lillia hadn't really believed it until now– until seeing the toll it was taking on Drew.

"Are you okay?" Lillia asked, her guilt slipping into concern. "Do you want me to make you soup–"

"No, I don't need you to baby me, Lillia. I have a mother and a maid to do that."

His voice was impassive, cold almost. She recoiled.

"What's going on...?" Her eyes were wide.

"Don't do your whole faux-innocent act on me, Lillia. We both know what happened Friday night."

"Nothing happened! I don't know what you saw–"

"How are you going to turn this one on me, huh? I saw his hands all over you, like you were this little slut free for taking–"

She gasped. She felt her stomach drop out from beneath her. "How can you say that?"

He advanced on her, fury contorting his features. "You make me into a fool, you know that? They look at me now and they see a boy who can't even hold onto his own girlfriend, much less–"

She noticed the wine bottle on his counter. It was empty. "You're drunk. You're drunk and it isn't even three in the afternoon!"

"Don't you dare judge me. I'll do what I want with my own–"

She knew how serious drinking was for him. What connotations it carried. "You keep doing this and you're going to throw away your own life, Drew."

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do with my life."

Lillia forged on, ignoring the dangerous tone of his voice.

"You keep doing this and you're going to become exactly who you're afraid to be. You're going to prove everyone right, Drew, and you're going to be just like your father."

His eyes darkened as he shoved her. The force shocked her, and she skidded against the hard wooden floor. It was all a blur. Her cheek caught against the open cabinet door, and pain struck her– sharp, excruciating pain.

She sucked in her breath.

"Lillia–"

"Don't touch me!" she cried, guarding him back with her hands outstretched before her. She touched her cheek gingerly. She could feel the skin bruising. When she glanced in the cabinet glass, she saw her face reflected back– turning yellow and purple. Like a macabre painting.

"It was an accident, Lillia." His voice had changed entirely. She almost couldn't remember the shouting Drew. Almost. "I never meant to hurt–"

She started to cry– thick, heavy tears. "Please don't talk to me right now," she choked out, the tears coming in waves. Hot humiliation coursed through her. Shame at crying in front of him, shame at crying at all. Shame at what had happened. How had it come to this?

He stood there miserably before her, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not moving closer, not moving farther away. "I'm so sorry."

She nodded, the tears still falling. "I think–" she hiccupped. "I think I should go."

She could barely see through her tears. The world was blurry and distorted. Just like her thoughts. Numbly, she grabbed her coat and walked out. She didn't look at him as she left.