TRIGGER WARNING: mentions and brief descriptions of sexual assault and rape ahead!
...
Chapter 28
HARRY
I didn't intend to go back.
I was supposed to leave her behind. I had to eliminate my distractions because, at the end of the day, I had other shit to prioritize. With time being limited and all that.
That's all Joelle D'Amore was to me—a damn distraction.
Walking away from her was meant as a favor for the both of us. As for paying off the six grand for her apartment, it was just a way of silently saying sorry for being an ass. Though, she might've read right through me.
No, I didn't fuck that married woman this time. I could've, from the way she was throwing herself at me, but I didn't need any more distractions.
All I needed was to drop Joelle as soon as possible because again, want isn't the same as need.
I don't need her.
When I got to the apartment, I felt something off in the air. She didn't answer the first knock. I could've knocked again, but why should I when I could let myself in?
1-2-0-5
Stepping in, I identified her scream and cry for help.
The terror in her voice. It sounded familiar, like the time I held a gun to her head in the alleyway.
Then that's when I stumbled upon the scene in her bedroom.
I couldn't let anything happen to her, so I did what I had to do. I killed another person this week, cold and right in the chest with a gun, simply because I had to.
I knew she wouldn't have taken it lightly. Me killing the crazed bitch she withstood for so long and called a best friend, I knew she would've been confused and filled with rage.
So I let her shove me, again and again. If it meant it would've helped get all her frustration out, I didn't mind. I've been a punching bag before.
Though, when that didn't work, when she was close to having a full-on panic attack, I kissed her.
I didn't have a damn drug on hand to give her. So, I assumed kissing her was enough to surprise her, enough to slow her breathing and heart rate down.
It worked.
After I've parted from her lips, I open my eyes to look at her. She's reaching for her head where blood gathers at her wound, but I don't let her. I take her hand in mine, letting my fingers graze over her palm before holding it completely. "It's alright," I then whisper to her.
Like the angel she is, she begins to shake her head. She realizes I'm lying, I read. She must be thinking, none of this is alright. Still, she squeezes my hand while she looks anywhere but at her dead best friend on the floor.
I don't even want to fucking look, myself. "C'mon," I then speak to break the silence between us. I start to move, with my hand still in hers to direct her towards the bathroom, but she doesn't budge.
"Harry, what do we do now?" She asks me. There was hesitance in her tone when she referred to my kill as our kill.
"We're not calling the cops," I tell her.
Her eyes seem to widen. "Why not? You said it was self-"
"It was," I confirm, but I don't have time to explain my reasons why we don't need to get the bastards involved. "Don't worry, Jo. I'll take care of it. First, let's take care of you." I attempt to pull her along into the bathroom again, but she tugs her hand back.
"Wha- Harry, what do you mean?"
I stifle a groan. I had hoped that for once she would just comply and not ask questions. "Don't worry about it-"
"Stop saying that!" She snaps and I expected nothing less if I'm being honest with myself. Continuing, she then says, "I mean, the more you say not to worry... I fucking worry! Harry, August is dead. So tell me what the hell do you mean when you say you'll take care of it?!"
She's not going to let this go.
"As far as you know, she's missing. You haven't seen her, alright? Look, D'Amore, if you don't already know... this shit isn't new to me. So when I say to don't worry, don't," I say with ease, surprised to think I didn't snap right back, overpowering her raised tone, as I would have to anybody else.
Angel's face softens as she learns more of my sins. The innocence behind those eyes has faded—they've been fading since the moment she met me. She lets out the shakiest breath before saying, "But her parents... Harry, they're crazy rich. They will look for her, go to the ends of the damn earth, to find her. And they just might find out what happened to her. I think we should call the-"
"No," I cut her off. "We can't call the fucking cops. I told you, I'll take care of it and I can assure you not a single fucking PI or the whole damn FBI will find out what happened to her. That's the end of it. Got that?"
Her chest is beginning to rise and fall at a fast pace, but it isn't as concerning as before. She opens her mouth as if she's about to ask more questions, but I don't give her a chance.
"Bathroom," I simply order because standing in the same damn room as her dead friend is becoming disturbing. When she doesn't move, I add, "Now."
Finally, she complies.
She walks ahead of me, slowly into the bathroom attached to her not-even-broken-in-yet bedroom. The lights automatically turn on and she turns to look at herself in the mirror. Disbelief is written on her face. I've never seen her eyes look as wide and as tired before.
She continues to stare at herself as I yank a hand towel off from its hanging place on a bar. Stepping next to her, I turn the faucet on to soak the towel underneath warm water.
"You know," I break the silence again. "I still don't understand what the hell I walked into."
Her eyes shift from her reflection over to mine while I twist the excess water out of the rag.
"She needed help, Harry... August, I don't think she was herself tonight," is all she chooses to say. She then turns and I assume it's because she no longer wants to look at her chaotic state.
Fine, don't tell me.
I step in front of her. I hold the damp cloth and I invite myself to wipe the dried blood gently off her cheek. She looks into my eyes as if she didn't expect me to clean her up. Maybe I should have just handed the damn rag over. I continue anyway.
"What the hell did she hit you with?" I then ask as I take the damp towel over her wound. She winced at the contact.
"I don't know, but it knocked me out," she mumbles, continuing to let me clean the blood off of her.
"Do you feel alright?" I cock an eyebrow. "Lightheaded?"
"I don't feel lightheaded, no."
"Good," I say. "Hold it."
She reaches up to take over. As she holds the damp towel up to her wound, she sighs softly. "Why did you come back?"
Fuck, I felt that coming.
I sigh in return and turn towards the sink to rinse the blood she got on me off. "Does it matter?" I mumble because I don't think my reasons for coming back matter at all. I then stand up straight, patting my face dry with another hand towel.
She doesn't say anything. She only frowns and remains silent, but only for a minute. "I don't even know how she found me."
"Where's your phone?" I shut the running water off.
She straightens her posture. "Out there, I think. With a rapid glance towards the door, she then looks at me. "Why?"
She doesn't want to go out there and I don't blame her.
When I go out for her, I scan the room for her phone. Looking past the dead girl, I see a pole on the floor. It's what she must've gashed Jo in the head with.
I frown, still not understand how the fuck something like this escalated.
Was this all for the dude who can't make a girl come?
I almost laugh at the crude thought, but I find Jo's broken phone on the bed. I take it and make my way back to the bathroom. "Unlock it," I ask of her while pushing the phone towards her.
"Why?" She asks me again, but she does what I say anyway.
When I take back her unlocked phone, I still don't answer her question. I just search right through it. Just as I fucking figured, I shake my head and turn the phone around to show her. "Find my friends, really? Why in the hell would you share your location with somebody who fucked your boyfriend?" Stupid.
Shit, now she's fucking crying.
She covers her face and begins sobbing into her hands right in front of me. With her back leaned back against the marveled sink countertop, I frown when she begins to apologize.
"Sorry for what?" I mumble when I set her broken phone aside.
"This is so fucked!" She groans out of pure frustration. "I found out my best friend was capable of unimaginable things and now she's dead."
"She tried killing you," I then say to remind her that the bitch deserved it.
Right?
She sniffles and that's when I search for tissue.
"I just... I didn't see any of this coming."
Say that again.
I let out a small chuckle under my breath and she throws a frown my way, implicitly telling me that none of this is funny. I erase the frown once I give her toilet paper to blow her nose into.
After she blows her nose, she looks at me. Her eyes are bluer than ever because of the redness around them. I lift my bandaged hand, feeling the need to reach over and smooth down the flyaways of her messy dark hair, but her phone starts ringing. When she turns to look at who is calling, she gasps.
"Shit, no," she mumbles, bringing a hand up to her mouth.
"What?"
"It's Rosie, Matthew's sister. She's probably calling to tell me... to tell me he's-" she stops talking the minute she lifts her phone. As if she's internalizing debating whether or not to pick up the phone, she does. With the phone to her ear, she greets, "Hello?"
With the silence in the bathroom and the high volume of her phone, faintly, I hear, "Jo? Oh, thank God you answered. It's me, Matt. I've been trying to reach you-"
"Oh, my God," Jo squeals out.
"What? Are you okay?"
Jo walks past me. Putting the lid of the toilet seat down, she then takes a seat with a shaky release of a pant. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry," she says and covers her face again. "You're okay? You're alive?"
"Uh, yeah. I was released from the hospital two days ago, alive and well if that's what you're asking."
She's nodding and it looks like she's holding back her emotions again. "Right, yeah," she whispers then sits up straight.
"I've been trying to reach you, Jo, hoping you're willing to give me another chance to talk to you."
I want to roll my eyes, but I've been practicing patience, to say the least.
"Now is not-"
I take her phone when an opportunity arises. She looks at me with shock in her terrified eyes as I press the mute button. "Tell him you'll meet him right now," I tell her.
"Now?" She looks at me, then the phone, and back at me again. "but-"
"Hello? Jo?" He speaks, though unable to hear us.
"D'Amore, trust me. Tell him you'll meet him right now," I say. Before she could rebuttal or question what I ask her to do again, I unmute the call for her to speak again.
All she does is glare at me as she says, "W-We could talk."
"Oh, good! Listen-"
"But in person," she says and that's when I nod, silently praising her for listening.
"Oh... Okay! Where? I can meet you right now."
"The bar," she says. She's rubbing at her temple, on the side that isn't injured, and she sighs. "Not Zac's..."
"The one near campus?"
"Yeah," she then says with an elbow on her knee and hand to her forehead. Seconds later, she hangs up the phone.
"Alright, let's go." I try rushing before she starts crying again. I can sense her incoming tears.
Though, it's too fucking late. She's crying and I uncomfortably step towards her.
"D'Amore, let's go," I attempt to rush again. Absentmindedly, my bandaged hand slides over the back of her head. I stroke it and it makes her look up at me like a child.
"August told me she killed him," she fills me with the reason behind her tears. "She lied."
I don't know what to say. If I open my mouth, I know I'll make an unnecessary dark joke that she doesn't have time for right now. It's a good thing she stands up when she does. She shoves her phone into her pocket then swallows after wiping her tears away.
Knowing we have to walk past her dead friend in the bedroom, I voluntarily take her by her arm and lead the way out. I shield her from it because I know it's a lot to take in.
I didn't exactly go easy on her in the car ride the night of my birthday party, I admit. So I do what I think will help me gain her trust.
She needs to trust me now more than ever.
We make it out of her ruined apartment. Leaving the body behind, I take her bags of crap with me down to my car. She sniffles beside me in silence down the quiet elevator shaft. She's thinking a lot, I can tell whenever I glance over.
When we get to my car, I start putting her bags into the trunk. Next to me, she reaches for my arm to keep me from shutting it closed.
"Let me find a jacket or something," she says to me. When I look down to note what she's wearing, the tank inside her flannel is stained with her blood.
I grab a black hoodie of mine I had tossed inside because letting her search into her bags of crap would waste time we don't have. "Here," I toss it her way.
Hesitantly, she then takes off her flannel to put on my hoodie. I watch her pull her hair out from the neck hole as my hoodie rests oversized on her body. I think she thanks me, but I've already walked away to get in the driver's seat.
JOELLE
The only thing that keeps the car ride from falling silent is my heart. It's beating loud in my chest again as Harry pulls into a lot near the bar I directed him to.
Matthew isn't dead.
I've lost the number of times I've repeated that in my head. I don't understand why August would tell me she killed him when she didn't.
Did she enjoy the reaction she got out of me?
She wanted me to fear her.
When Harry parks, I look at him. He says, "I'm giving you fifteen minutes. Talk to him and come right back here, alright?"
Softly, I frown. I also don't understand why Harry urgently needs me to talk to Matthew or why he's timing me. What if I'm not ready to talk to him?
"And no talking about her. If he asks what's wrong with your head, say you ran into a door or some shit."
I nod and look down when the panic in me wants to arise again.
I don't want to talk to Matthew, but at the same time, I do. Reaching for the door handle, I pause because something is keeping me from walking out. I look at Harry again.
"What?"
"Nothing," I then mumble, deciding against asking him what he meant when he said he would take care of it again.
He'll answer with a don't worry about it or you don't want to know. That's the last thing I want to hear right now. So I get out, finally, and I take in a sharp breath from the nervousness settling at the bottom of my stomach. I shove my hands into the front pocket of Harry's hoodie after shutting his door. I start walking out from the lot to step onto the pavement towards the bar.
I'm not ready for this.
I swallow as I then stop by the door of the bar I've spent so many of my college junior nights with Matthew and his friends. I then step in and immediately, I spot him sitting by the bar with clasped hands on top of the counter.
He's wearing that stupid yellow university rep hoodie he wears too much. And, he's alive.
Matthew starts turning his body on the barstool towards me when he sees me walking towards him. He stands up and before we know it, I've thrown myself into his arms. I hug him tight.
"Oh," he says out of surprise. "Jo, it's so good to see you." He hugs me back with his large arms and it's when I realize I need to stop. I'm allowed to feel relieved he isn't dead, but I still might be crossing a line by hugging him, I think.
When I pull back, I see the swelling in his face has gone down tremendously. Though, he's still bruised up. "Sorry," I say and tug the ends of Harry's hoodie sleeves over my hands. I prop myself up onto the barstool next to him.
"Woah, Jo... What happened?" He's quick to refer to my head.
"I... ran into a door," I lie and wave him off with my hand. "How are you? You were released from the hospital?" I swallow and then watch as a woman behind the bar approaches us.
I should be at Zac's working right now.
"I'm good... Better, now. Listen-"
"What can I get you to drink?" The bartender interrupts to ask.
I blow a raspberry with my lips when my hands drop above the countertop. Yeah, I need a drink. "Mm, a strawberry margarita... Yeah, on the rocks, please."
After Matthew opens a tab to pay for my drink, he then turns to me again. "I miss you, Jo."
I bite the inside of my lip. I take my phone out of the front pocket to check the time Harry said to take fifteen minutes, I remind myself. I look at Matthew again and I start wishing he could've told me that after I had my drink.
When I stay silent, he continues, "And I know you're upset... You have every right to be."
Don't talk about August, don't talk about August.
I press my lips together.
"Look, I'm not asking you to take me back-"
Good, because I won't.
"I'm asking for forgiveness."
I continue to stay silent because a lot is going on in my head at the moment. Him asking for forgiveness sits at the bottom of the queue of things I still have yet to process.
Finally, I'm given my drink. After thanking the kind bartender, I slide the glass towards me and I start sipping from the straw as if I'm drinking ice cold water.
"Jo? Are you alright?" Matthew asks because he probably notices this isn't like me.
"Mhm," I hum and scrunch my nose from how strong my drink is. I start swirling around the mix with my straw.
Wait, I'm not alright at all.
"August," her name slips from my mouth. I just went against what Harry had told me to do. Fuck. I then breathe in and straighten my posture when there's no going back now. When I breathe out, I say, "Matthew... She told me you sexually assaulted her and have been forcing her into bed with you."
I look at him, long and hard, in search of his reaction. I think I could decipher when Matthew is lying to me or not. I was always quick to pick up whenever he told a little white lie, like when he would tell me he liked what I gifted him for Christmas or his birthday. I hope I'll be able to make out a much bigger lie if that's what this will lead to.
His face, I think he grows almost completely pale at the accusation I've brought up. His brown eyes don't lift away from mine. He then starts shaking his head. "That's... not true at all."
Fuck. I can't tell.
If she lied or not, August went through something traumatic for her to attack me the way she did.
I'm trying not to cry because now I'm thinking, I wish I could've helped her. She didn't have to die.
"Matthew, tell me everything. Please, from the beginning," I beg and then I take another large sip of my drink.
Frustrated, he sighs and runs his fingers through his messy grown-out hair. It looks like he needs a moment, so I give that to him.
Eventually, he starts to speak, "I met August at a frat party. I wasn't that drunk and neither was she. From what I remember, she came up to me and she kissed me. I, single and honestly only went to the party for a hookup, kissed her back. It was consensual, in a way. I even remember asking her, 'Who are you?' after we parted. August had said, 'Just somebody trying to get over somebody.' And then we... had sex together in a random room. That was it. She was only a one-night stand, Jo."
Just somebody trying to get over somebody.
Me?
As I sip my drink again, I continue to listen to Matthew. He tells me, "And then I met you. You know the story, obviously... Jo, I'm not perfect. Looking back, I should have told you right away that I had slept with her. And I mean it when I tell you I just didn't want to risk losing you. I was so fucking crazy about you. Remember? We said 'I love you' to each other in less than a month."
I sigh and pick at the strawberry sitting at the rim of my glass with the tiny black straw. "But," I begin, though I stop. I don't even know what to say in response to that.
"When you first introduced me to your best friend and roommate, I recognized her and she recognized me. I decided to pretend like I didn't know her and she went along with it. It wasn't until I started swinging by your apartment more-" He stops talking this time and it's because the bartender come by.
"Another?" She offers when all that sits in my glass is ice.
"Yes, please," I say. I take the strawberry off the rim then I let her collect my glass. I start to munch on the alcohol-coated fruit.
"Jo, it was-" He continues, only to stop once more.
"What?" I raise an eyebrow at him.
"First of all, I would never ever hurt somebody that way. Jo, don't you remember what I opened up to you about? My mom, she was raped by my own fucking dad."
Shit. I notice the crack in his voice and I begin to remember the way he cried into my chest a random summer night when he told me that.
"So I would never—I mean it, never—inflict that kind of pain on somebody else. I- Jo, I-"
"Hey," I whisper and that's when my hand slides onto his arm.
"Jo, it was the other way around."
I frown and I don't even notice that the bartender has dropped off my second margarita. Matthew isn't looking at me. I feel him breathe harder as my hand sits on his shoulder. "What?" I ask him to repeat what he said.
"August... She was the one forcing me to have... sex... with her. She w-would tell me that if I didn't, you know, she would tell you all about us."
Oh, God.
I slide my hand off of him only to start sipping on my drink again. This is all too fucking much. Knowing he probably couldn't tell me, still I ask, "Why didn't you just tell me?" I almost sound whiney and I hate it.
"Jo, I couldn't. This time, not because I didn't want to lose you, but because it was embarrassing! She was using me, assaulting me." He raises his voice and I know he didn't intend to. There's vexation behind his eyes. "Jo, I think she hated you. Making me do things to her, I knew it had to be out of spite. Which is why, so many times, I tried to get you away from her. Her telling you I assaulted her, it's manipulation! You know, when I would have sex with her, she threatened me by saying shit like 'if you don't do this, I'll tell Jo.' You walking in on us, she fucking plotted it. At the time, I thought admitting I was a cheater was better than admitting she used me."
She didn't hate me. She loved me, but because I wouldn't return the same love, she used Matt to hurt me. She planned all of this to get me to turn to her. Though, when her plan fell through, she must've lost it. I broke her and I don't know how to handle the thought of that. I begin to cringe over the details Matt shared to me.
"And- Yes, a large part of me didn't want to admit to myself that August had been assaulting me because I'm a man. As I said, it's embarrassing... Jo, I didn't plan on telling you any of this tonight. To be honest, it was something I was going to swallow down and keep inside forever. Now that she had nothing to threaten me with, I thought I was free. But now, to think August said I did that to her- Fuck, Jo... I just hope you don't think I'm the liar."
I don't think he's lying. There's pain and the embarrassment he mentioned behind his demeanor. I think he also wants to cry. Matt hates crying, I remember.
I take another large sip of my drink as I begin to feel all warm and fuzzy—tipsy, more like. I then hop off the stool only to hug my ex-boyfriend. He takes me into his large arms and it's like a bear-hug.
Don't cry.
I hold him tightly and that's when I feel him start to shake a little.
"I know I should've told you," he mumbles into my hair.
"I understand why you couldn't," I whisper with my hands running up and down his broad back.
"I'm so sorry," he hugs me tighter that it begins to hurt, but I don't remove myself.
"You don't have to apologize, Matt," I say.
My phone starts ringing in my front pocket. Still hugging Matt, I reach to fish it out with my free hand. I check the cracked screen over his shoulder only to see an estranged number with a non-L.A. area code calling. I already know it's Harry. I've yet to save his number, but I recognize it.
I cut the call and stuff my phone back into my pocket to continue holding a vulnerable Matt.
We stay like that, for another minute longer, until he parts away from me. My phone starts ringing in my pocket again, but I've flipped the switch on the side of my phone to silence it.
"Wait, I'm sorry," I then say. "I think I should have handled things much differently... Outing you to your mom and sister, of being a cheater, is just one of the things."
"Jo, stop," he tells me through teary eyes. "If I don't get to apologize, you shouldn't either... But you should know, I never once stopped being crazy about you. I just... I couldn't show you, physically couldn't prove it to you, because... because of her."
I start feeling red in the face the moment Matthew starts to talk again. He's referring to sex with me, I assume. I used to think he just wasn't sexually attracted to me anymore. The way he would turn me down would only feed my insecurity every time. I never imagined it was because he was traumatized. "You don't have to explain," I then say.
I take my seat on the barstool again and reach for my drink. I take it all in a sip again.
"What should I do now? I've been thinking of confronting August."
You can't. She's dead.
I look away and only keep sipping until the slurp of an empty drink breaks through the air between us. Maybe it's time for me to go or Harry will be pissed. "Matt, I can't tell you what to do," I say and I take the new strawberry off the salty rim of the glass. "But just know... I'm here for you. As a friend, alright? I wish I could stay longer, but I have to go."
"Wait, where? I could give you a ride," he offers as I hop off the seat again.
"It's okay... I have a ride, but thank you." I give him a forced smile and I rub his arm once more. "Again, I'm here for you."
He nods and I swiftly walk off before I break down again. I feel the head rush of the effect of two heavily infused alcohol margaritas. Holding onto the leaves of my uneaten strawberry, I push at the doors as I leave the bar.
Harry. I see him getting out of his car the moment I step into the lot.
Was he about to drag me out?
I could almost hear him scoff when he spots me. With a head shake, he plops himself into his driver seat again.
As I approach his car, I really don't want to sit next to him. I don't want to hear him yell, but mostly, I don't want him to see me cry again. So I climb into the backseat of his car and the lump in my throat begins to ache all over again.
"Why-" He begins and looks over his shoulder when he realizes I'm in the back. "D'Amore, I told you fifteen minutes, and why the fuck are you in the back?!"
That was enough—his raised voice—to get the tears out of me again.
Things are finally beginning to make sense to me. Clarity is all I've searched for, but now that I have it, it's all too much for me to handle.
I lean forward, my head resting against the back of the passenger's seat. I try to silently sob, but it's hard as the emotions get the best of me. I practically wail like a baby. With the sleeve of Harry's sweater over my eyes, I continue to cry the only tears I have left. I feel so drained inside.
"You're crying," Harry points out in a mumble.
"I'm fine," I lie. I feel my unbuckled body rock as Harry begins to drive out of the parking lot.
He doesn't say more and I wish I could thank him for it, but I'm busy trying to calm myself down.
I groan, feeling angry to think I was blinded by the entire situation. I was also lied to and that's what hurts the most.
I've calmed down, for the most part, after a few silent minutes. I sniffle and lean back in the comfortable leather seat. My head hurts, but at least the rest of my body is beginning to feel numb. Looking out the window, I then realize Harry has driven us onto a freeway. Particularly, the I-10 heading East.
"Harry, where are we going?" I ask him, because he's heading nowhere near his home. I assumed that's where he was taking me.
No longer crying, I treat myself with the strawberry I held onto. The sweetness of the natural dew soothes me in a way as I feel it trickle over my tongue. I snack when I'm upset.
There's a pause Harry emits. With the radio low and his eyes on the lonely freeway ahead of us, he sighs. "Ever been to Sin City?"