Same Time

thirteen.

j a i m e e

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TRIGGER WARNING: violence, harassment, mention of racial slurs

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I stumble into the kitchen the morning after our emotional session. My face lights up as I notice Tory already perched on the counter top, not surprised in the slightest that he'd come back again.

But I am pleasantly surprised to see a bottle of kombucha in his hand, a major difference to the bottle of vodka that he tends to have with him.

"Did Shayden ever tell you how we met?"

Tory looks up from the bottle. His khaki green hoodie practically swallows his body whole but it's a refreshing sight. His humbleness, despite his family's wealth, will always be one of my favorite traits of his.

"Said he'd known you since Pre-K."

"I guess that's true." I jump up onto the counter top next to him, after finding a bottle of unopened water in the refrigerator. "We've always gone to school together, but we were never close until 8th Grade."

This is a story that I need to tell while it's fresh in my mind and doesn't hurt as much to remember. Tory deserves to know, especially having to deal with two emotional breakdowns last night.

"He was jumped one day after school. Taylor must've been at soccer practise or something and I'm not sure about his other friend. All I remember was hearing him shout and seeing a group of older boys just hurting him. No one bothered to help." My eyes flicker upwards when Tory rests his hand on my knee softly.

"You don't have to tell me."

I just shake my head, continuing. "I got involved and we fought them off until a teacher arrived. We went back to his home and cleaned each other up. We became friends quickly. It was just me and Libbie, and him, Taylor and another boy so our friend groups merged too. The day we met properly just became a distant memory. Until the last day of 8th grade. Taylor and Shayden had ended up in detention so Libbie and I were waiting outside the gates for them when the same boys who attacked Shay all them months ago showed up, but there was more this time."

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I try to ignore the terror that consumed me on that day from reoccurring. The moment I noticed them heading towards us, I knew they weren't back for Shayden. "I told Libbie to run but she ignored me, sending Taylor a text before two of them grabbed her. They said some stuff to both of us and I said stuff back even though it was stupid and just annoyed them further. But I was never raised to keep my mouth shut. Everything's a blur after that-"

Sensing my hesitation, Tory removes his hand off my knee and holds my hand instead. I jump at the contact at first, startled, before squeezing his hand gently and continuing with my story. Getting touched off anyone normally freaks me out, but Tory's become such a good friend that the need to panic is submerged by appreciation and comfort.

"The first hit went to my ribs, and I hit back. The second time was my nose. The third time, I don't remember."

That's a lie. I remember every single hit. Every slap. Every punch. Every kick. I remember them all, because I can't forget. At first, it was all a blurry haze. The psychologist at the hospital said that forgetting every aspect that happened was a common occurrence in trauma victims, which I apparently was. But it all came back eventually. If I start to forget again, the nightmares of that night remind me. I don't even get nightmares of the night I was raped, but that day doesn't seem to leave. The memories claw at me, seep into my dreams until I'm awakened, gasping for air and my entire body aching as if it'd just happened again.