Chapter 29

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Chapter 29- Nora's POV

"Nora honey, I'm heading out to the hospital now!" My mom calls out to me from down the hallway.

I'm sitting on our living room couch, two pillows propped up behind me, a lavender throw covering the lower half of my body. I'm reading the novel Pride and Prejudice for English class and I'm only on page twenty three out of three hundred seventy five and I am expected to finish it by next Monday, according to my teacher, Ms. Morello. I let out a sigh, leaning back into the soft pillows and manage to call back, "Ok!" to my mom.

Mom runs past me in her light blue scrubs and grabs her keys off of the hall table before slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Mrs. Fairfield should be here around two o' clock," she tells me.

"All right, sounds good," I reply, not taking my eyes off of my book.

"And remember, be nice to her. She's kind enough to make you soup and keep you company for a few hours," Mom reminds me.

"Of course I'm going to be nice to her, Mom!" I say, rolling my eyes a little. She always did this when we had company over our house, telling me to be nice and polite. As if I was one of those incredibly rude preteen brats who cooped themselves up in their rooms whenever relatives came over. It's like she's forgotten that Mrs. Fairfield has practically been a second mother to me these past few years that I've been friends with Lizzie.

"Ok I'll see you later tonight!" Mom says before slamming the front door behind her. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to her because of how quickly she left.

I shift my gaze back onto my book and try to pick up where I left off but I had already lost my place on the page. Right now, the main character Elizabeth was arguing with Mr. Darcy at some ball while her perfect older sister Jane is having a lighthearted, easygoing conversation with the guy she is supposedly in love with, Mr. Bingley. As if I even care about the problems of a fictional character right now when I still had my own to deal with. For the past four days I've been home sick with a fever and a terrible sore throat. I coincidently got sick the day after I took my SAT, on Sunday, and my mom took my temperature and found that I was running a 102 degree fever. On top of that, my throat had already been sore for the past few weeks and on Sunday it was at its worst so I was allowed to skip school on Monday. It was now Friday and although my fever had dropped considerably my throat was still as sore and scratchy as ever. Because my mom has her job, she asked Lizzie's mom, Mrs. Fairfield, to look after me for a few hours during the afternoon. Since I was still technically grounded, Mrs. Fairfield had already been planning on stopping by every once and a while anyway like my mom requested. Just to make sure I didn't sneak out of the house or anything. As if I would.

A new wave of exhaustion comes over me and I place my book face down on my lap and close my eyes. But when I close them I can only see one face. Seeing him and thinking about him makes me want to scream or destroy something near me. It's Evan Rogers's face that I see. He's smirking at me right now in my mind, his dark eyes are narrowed as he flashes me a toothy smile. He's laughing, laughing at me and how much of a mess I am. And I guess I was. I was just one big fucking mess. But he made me that way. When I thought of him, which was, like, almost every second of the day now, all I felt was shame and disgust. I was disgusted with myself. I should have been stronger than I was that day, I should have fought back. I keep replaying the horrific incident over and over again in my head, trying to figure out what I could have done differently so that it wouldn't have happened in the first place. But no matter what kind of different scenario I come up with for what could've happened, there was no changing the fact that I was raped. Making yourself face the truth about an unspeakable event was terrifying to say the least. I wanted to forget about it and pretend like it had never happened and that it was no big deal, but that just wasn't possible. Evan was Lizzie, my best friend's, boyfriend. And he had dragged me to his car, called me a bitch multiple times, tore off all my clothes against my will, and then raped me. I had made sure to get rid of the shorts and shirt that I had been wearing that day in order to rid myself of another reminder of what happened. The denim shorts and flimsy black T-shirt that I wore were both from Urban Outfitters and they didn't cost a dime. I wouldn't miss wearing them one bit.

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