CHAPTER TWELVE
▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬
2018
I had to try my hardest not to slip out of consciousness on the way to the hospital. The EMTs riding with me on the back of the ambulance attempted to keep me awake by talking to me, but I still found it difficult to focus in any conversations with the pounding headache I currently had.
My head was exploding into a million stars, creating my own galaxy, except everything collapsed right after and the lights went out. It was then that I couldn't see anything in front of me, not even the iridescent light above my head, my own personal Big Crunch on a much smaller scale, and I wondered if I'd felt anything when I first hit my head. I couldn't remember a thing that wasn't my desperate need to run out of the door, like I did every time I found myself in a serious situation, and I tried to convince myself it was one of the bravest things I had ever done. I'd fought back and ran off before anything bad happened, regardless of any injuries I'd sustained.
Then, Chase.
If it hadn't been for him, probably no one would have tipped off the campus security that there was something shady going on at that party. That, along with the presence of emergency services at the scene thanks to the supposed gas leak, solidified my theory that he really was looking out for me as much as possible, while still keeping a safe distance. He was driving behind the ambulance, something that mortified me, as he surely had much better things to do than waste time at a hospital.
The reality of my situation began to dawn on me, intensifying whenever my conscious mind was at its clearest. I'd, most likely, have to give a statement to the police about what had happened, as it was easy to assume there had been foul play, considering a stranger had followed me out of the house. Maybe one could argue he was just trying to run out because he, too, feared the gas leak, and it would be his word against mine. Blood tests would, most likely, reveal any sedatives remaining in my body, but I hadn't seen him spike my drink, so it could have been anyone. There was no proof he had tried to take advantage of me, as nothing had happened besides the physical altercation, and he'd point out I was too intoxicated to remember things clearly. Intent could not be proven through words alone.
No one would ever believe me. That's what had happened to all those other girls; even with proof, it was just circumstantial evidence that could be dismissed or argued against, so all the charges had been dropped.
As they rolled me inside the hospital, everything became too real. I'd have to get a CT scan to check for a concussion, something my family's insurance covered, but that only meant they'd find out about my hospital stay eventually. I was fortunate to have them pay for so many things, including my health and my education, but that also removed any ounce of privacy I could have.
Chase's presence made it all slightly more bearable. Though he wasn't allowed in the room while my head was being examined by a machine and I tried my hardest to not shake as much, knowing he was in the building was somewhat comforting. He was living proof I had something to hold on to, in spite of the chaos that surrounded me, my anchor.
He'd saved my life, as dramatic as that could sound. That was something I'd never be able to repay or properly thank him for. He already had all of me, captured me between his hands, and he had my life, too. That was a tremendous amount of pressure to place on someone's shoulders, a clear reminder of how much I was holding him back, but it wasn't something I took lightly. Even if I couldn't find the words to explain it, even if I wanted to save him from the agony of me being in debt to him, it was a tidal wave of gratitude that washed over me.
They wanted to keep me in the hospital overnight for observation, just in case, and I was certainly concussed, a danger to myself, but I refused. The longer I stayed there, the higher the chances of something leaking and reaching my parents' ears, which I could let happen. I couldn't bring myself to testify, knowing how little my words would mean in the greater spectrum of things, and speaking was a chore my pounding headache wouldn't allow me to do, so I managed a written testimony, one that would be of no help. The awareness of my insignificance was mortifying, not just for my sake, but for that of all those other girls, but, even if I identified the guy, it would all be blamed on concussion-induced delusion. He was generic enough for me to confuse him for someone else in a crowd, even though his face was carved into the back of my eyelids.
"Is there anyone we can notify?" one of the officers questioned, as I sat in a recovery room. Chase was there, keeping a certain distance, but still close enough to listen to the conversation. "Your parents?"
"No need," I said, hands folded over my lap. "I'm nineteen."
"This isn't about you not being a minor, miss. This was a traumatic event that—"
"I'm okay. Nothing happened to me. You really don't need to bother them." I knew my rights, just like I knew they wouldn't need to be notified. It would be better if they weren't, as I didn't want to cause any scandals that could ruin their reputation, or even the university's, but I was so desperate for justice I almost took back my words. Almost. "These guys have been doing this for a long time. It might be time for you to open an investigation."
"There have been numerous complaints of tampered drinks and assault at these frat parties," Chase intervened, speaking for the first time since we left campus, "and they've been repeatedly dismissed due to lack of or 'questionable' evidence, as I've been informed. It's not something that should be ignored."
"Sorry, sir, you are . . .?"
"Chase Steele. PhD. I'm a professor at the university. It hardly seems fair to dismiss dozens of complaints because no one ever bothered to look into them."
"Ah. Well." The officers straightened. "We'll speak to the university and see what we can do." The first one turned to me. "We're very sorry this has happened to you. You're lucky to have gotten out in time."
I gave him a tight smile. I wouldn't call myself lucky, not when I'd be doing so at the expense of so many other girls that hadn't had anyone come to their rescue or even believe them. Part of me didn't think anything would come out of this, having heard plenty of horror stories about universities covering up these scandals, or even rich families paying off the investigators to keep them quiet and protect their sons, but it was my job to try to help.
Once they left, the room was quiet and I rushed to gather my belongings, suddenly aware of how exposed my skin was. Ingrid and I were pretty much the same height, but she wore these dresses a lot better than I did, knowing just how to style them, whereas I looked like a clothes hanger, lifeless. Then, Chase, who hadn't left, suggested I should stay with him, an invitation he probably wouldn't have made had tonight gone any differently, and I didn't want to take advantage of his generosity by imposing my presence in his house, his personal space.
"I don't think you should be alone," he pointed out. I was freezing, arms crossed in front of my chest to try and generate and conserve some warmth, but he couldn't let me borrow his jacket without people jumping to conclusions and ruining everything for us. "You have a concussion. If anything happens during the night and you're alone—"
"I have neighbors. If I fall, they'll hear."
"That's nonsense."
"Is it?" I turned to him. He remained firm. "If we don't want people to get suspicious, perhaps it won't be ideal for people to see us leave together. I'll get an Uber and go home. It's fine."
"You're hardly making sense right now."
"You saved my life, Chase. That's something we'll both have to deal with for a long time, maybe even forever." That seemingly got to him. His facial expression significantly softened. "No matter how thankful I am, I don't need you to tell me what's best for me. What's best for me might not be the best for us, and I don't want to take any unnecessary risks."
"I'm not telling you what's best for you. I'm just making a suggestion." He exhaled, hands hidden inside the pockets of his jacket. "Sorry for trying to look out for you, then."
"Come with me, then. Stay at the loft, if me being alone really is the problem."
He seemed pretty pained to merely consider that option, but I didn't feel like it was fair to be bossed around and babied, even out of concern. While I'd gladly accept his proposition, to spend some time with him at his apartment, it wouldn't be wise for us to do so on a night people had seen us leave campus together and they would, inevitably, get the wrong idea if we were spotted. I didn't understand why he didn't see that, how he didn't appreciate me thinking ahead, the way he always did, just to keep our relationship tied up perfectly in the privacy of our apartments.
Then again, maybe I really was being ungrateful, tossing his worries aside and ruining everything. Maybe I'd read it all wrong, maybe I was being unreasonable and childish by making a big drama out of something that should be simple.
"Okay," he eventually said.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, as we exited the room. I didn't want to risk walking too close to him, not while wearing this dress. Anywhere else, under other circumstances, we'd look like we were out on a date, except I had a concussion and had my drink spiked, whereas he had interrupted his personal life to come rescue me like a damsel in distress. "I didn't mean to overreact. Sorry for blowing things out of proportion."
"It's okay." It hardly felt like it. If anything, I'd only widened the distance between us even more, if that was still possible at a time like this. "Maybe you should take a few days off from college. You shouldn't be making any unnecessary efforts with that concussion. You need to rest."
I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from arguing I really didn't need this kind of treatment. Even though I knew I had to rest while having a concussion, college work was beginning to pile up and I was struggling to keep up with my deadlines, which made skipping my lectures an even worse idea. He could pride himself in knowing I'd never get a bad grade in whatever he taught, the only thing that mattered to me, but all my other courses couldn't afford such a luxury. The second my grades started slipping, my parents would instantly know there was something going on, something monumental enough to distract me to the point of ruining my academic career, and they'd start prying into my personal life. I didn't want to think about what they would say if they found out about tonight, or worse, what they would say if they ever suspected I was dating a professor—my professor.
"I don't want to fall behind," I confessed.
"I could send you the notes for my lectures, if that's the problem. That girl who sits next to you, your friend . . . Savannah, is it?" I clenched my jaw. Talking about Savannah was the last thing I wanted to do. "I'm sure she won't mind lending you her notes for everything else. I'll send her a reminder via email just to make sure she won't forget."
I didn't deserve that. I didn't deserve to have him looking out for me like this, when I knew he wouldn't do it to anyone else in that class, or in any other class he taught, for that mattered. I was skipping steps my classmates weren't and that put me at an advantage I should be happy about, but I felt so unbearably mediocre in comparison to all of them that I knew I hadn't exactly earned these privileges. I hadn't earned the privilege of having this man in my life, someone who had dropped everything to come after me, who had gone through great lengths to ensure I was safe, and yet.
Outside, I was ready to step inside his car, lean my head against the cold glass of his windows, and forget about everything for a while, as it would, without a doubt, ease the pain in my head, but I wasn't that lucky. Savannah and Ingrid were there, arguing with each other, as per usual, but I had no energy left in me to care. I'd done all I possibly could to try and convince them to get along, even for my sake, but all my efforts had been virtually useless. It was like trying to push together two repelling magnets. To make it even worse, Chase was there, and I just knew one of them, if not both, would immediately start creating mental scenarios about seeing the two of us together, so we had to come up with a reasonable lie that wouldn't raise any suspicions. I was suddenly glad my shoulders were still bare and that he hadn't dared to touch me ever since we left campus, keeping me at arm's length, minimum.
I didn't think I'd be able to handle being touched right now, so soon after the party. I could still feel slimy hands on me, grabbing my arms, slipping an arm around my waist to carry my nearly unconscious self up the stairs, laughing at how I could barely walk. I couldn't help but wonder if the disgust would ever go away, or if I'd be feeling on the verge of barfing every single time I considered being touched or being intimate with someone.
"Lie," he told me, as if he'd read my mind. "I don't care what we say. Tell them I'm driving you home because you have no money on you."
"I don't have any money on me," I stupidly confirmed, in an attempt at easing the tension, but he hardly found me funny, especially in a situation like this, when we had so much to lose thanks to my nosy friends. Still, I nodded, a gesture that felt akin to being shot right between the eyes, and my stomach instantly turned, threatening to spill out its entire contents. "I'll handle this."
"Penny!" Savannah called, once she noticed me—then us. It was one of the rare moments we could be called an item, plural, but it wasn't ideal by any means. It was the worst thing that could happen. "Penny, holy shit, we were so worried—"
"We? Last time I checked, those were your friends hovering around her like vultures," Ingrid protested.
"I already told you I didn't see anything! I didn't even see her leave the kitchen! Besides, you left her alone, didn't you? How is any of this my fault, and not yours?"
"Please stop," I begged. "Stop. I've had enough of the two of you constantly being at each other's throats and being so damn passive-aggressive all the time. It's exhausting. This is the last thing I want to deal with right now."
"I'm sorry," Savannah said, reaching out for my hands. The difference of temperature between my skin and hers was abysmal, but I was guessing she had just gotten out of the car. Both of them had had plenty to drink, so I could only hope neither of them were driving, but I couldn't picture them willingly sharing an Uber, either. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see anything, but, if I had, you know I wouldn't have let them do anything to you. I would never. I swear, Penny, I swear—"
"Nothing happened to me other than a spiked drink and a concussion. Other girls suffered worse fates than I did." My eyes briefly met Ingrid's. I wouldn't throw her under the bus, regardless, and I truly hated having to argue with Savannah, but my emotions were bubbling up. I felt like an open wound, exposed and fragile, on the brink of snapping. "Where were you all those other times? You guys spend a lot of time together at those parties, so I find it quite easy to not notice when one of the guys disappears. You saw that guy cornering me in the kitchen and you didn't do anything, even though you could have."
"I didn't know it was them! I thought Paul was just joking; he does it all the time, so I didn't think twice—"
"How didn't you ever put the pieces together, Sav? It's never just a joke. Even if it was, it's just a joke until they spike some girl's drink and take her into one of the bedrooms. Their lives and reputations are ruined. You just stood there. You stood there and some 'nice guy' spiked my water. Why am I the only one that matters? Why don't those girls matter, too?" Savannah gasped, eyes already filled with tears, and I took a step back, guilt striking me right through the heart. "It might not have been your fault, but you've contributed to enabling their behavior, and that's not okay. You could have helped me. You could have helped those girls."
"You could have helped me," Ingrid said, in a low voice, and Savannah turned to her, eyes open wide. It looked like we were ganging up on her, so small in the middle of all these tall people, and I wanted to take back every mean word I'd just said to her, my friend, my first friend in university, but my vision was red. All I could see ahead of me was burning red. "I know you saw me there. You didn't say anything, then I saw you laugh when they were cornering me. It was a joke to them and nothing ever happened, but you were letting it happen. Even if you didn't know, you could have asked them to stop. You could have at least tried."
"I'm so sorry," Savannah croaked out, voice clogged, and I was wrecked. I knew she wasn't mean, I knew she wasn't evil, but I couldn't close my eyes anymore. I couldn't. All I wanted to do was to leave with Chase, somewhere where none of this shit mattered, somewhere where I could finally allow myself to breathe. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen." She reached out a hand towards me, one last time, but I swatted it away. "Penny—"
"Don't touch me. I'm going home."
"How?" Ingrid asked, craning her neck. Then, she found Chase, presumably waiting by his car, and I used whatever ounce of sanity I had left in me to hum, reminding myself to watch my mouth. "Doc over there is giving you a ride?"
"Yeah. I didn't want to get my parents involved, and he's a friend of theirs, so he's doing it as a favor."
Friend and mentee of a friend of my parents, technically, but she didn't need to know that. It was best if she didn't.
"We called an Uber to come here, so we wouldn't be of much help, anyway," she continued, having the decency to not try to touch me. Savannah was still weeping quietly and everything in me wanted me to drop the act and forgive her for everything. "Take care, okay? Let me . . . us know if you need anything."
"You left me, too." She raised her chin. "I tried to find you, but you were nowhere I could find you. I thought we were supposed to keep each other safe."
"Well, I tried to find you, but no one could tell me where you were, and I just knew—"
"Whatever, Ingrid."
She glared at me, ready to fire some venomous comment like she would have had Chase not been standing nearby, but she just turned her back to me and walked away to light up a cigarette.
Meeting with Chase was like a breath of fresh air and I was relieved when he didn't ask any questions. I knew he'd listened to the conversation, as none of us had bothered lowering our voices, and he had to know if my lie had been convincing enough. It hadn't been a lie, not entirely, but I thought I'd kept things vague enough to not attract any suspicions and sufficiently clarifying so neither of them would question it.
We didn't talk much on the ride to my loft. He opened his mouth to make some small-talk, ensuring I wouldn't fall asleep, and, even though I should sit still and warm up, I still rolled the window down. The wind in my hair was like a caress, a reminder that I was safe, that I'd gotten out mostly unscathed, but I couldn't quite forget the painful memories. The guy's face was still engraved in my brain, but so was the devastated look in Savannah's eyes the moment I'd snapped at her, then Chase, washed in quiet fury. The shame of having to keep everything a secret from my parents, the despair of turning my back on faceless girls with targets on their backs for the sake of putting up a strong front.
I wasn't strong. I was a pathetic, dirty liar.
Chase, as always, parked the car around the corner, but we didn't leave separately, as I'd assume we would. Even if he didn't touch me on our way to my front door, not even to let our shoulders brush, like we had that very first night, knowing he was there helped me keep moving, confident I could make it better. It wouldn't fix anything and wouldn't erase anything that had happened, but I was so desperate for a silver lining, a moment of peace, that I wouldn't be too opposed to my mind fabricating one.
He was already in bed by the time I got out of the shower, sick of feeling so sticky and sore, and looked up from my copy of Slow Days, Fast Company. I was more surprised to see him picking up an Eve Babitz book, out of all the ones I had, than I was to see him in my bed, like he lived here. There was a drawer of his clothes in my loft, in case he ever needed fresh ones to wear, and it gave the illusion of us being a normal, domestic couple. We were far from it, no matter how much it killed me, but I had to be thankful for these rare moments of apparent normalcy.
"I was worried about you," he began, after I climbed into bed, curled into a ball. His eyes were still fixated on the book, scanning the pages, while I couldn't look away from him. He was so beautiful like this, even more than usual, illuminated by the warm light of my lamp. "I didn't know if I'd get there in time. Fortunately, you barely even needed me."
"You did," I murmured, my fingers timidly trailing up his arm. His pulse thumped softly against my fingertips, a steady rhythm that lulled me to sleep, my eyelids growing heavy. "I have a mean right hook. I'm also very good at hitting people with my elbows, it seems."
"I mean it, Penn." He closed the book, then set it aside. When he looked at me, eyes darkening, I gulped. "That was dangerous. What happened? Why were you alone?"
"Ingrid and I got separated. I didn't . . . I tried to find her, tried to be discreet, but that thing in the kitchen with Paul had already put a target on my back. I didn't even see the guy slip anything into my water."
"Jesus. Holy fuck."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"I'm not blaming you for what happened. That's not what this is about. It's just . . ." Chase shook his head, his hair falling in front of his hair, no longer gelled back. "It infuriates me, that's all. I'm furious that this keeps happening and nothing has ever been done about it. It took me showing up and doing something just for them to consider opening an investigation."
I risked scooting closer to him, draping an arm around his chest, and snuggled against his shoulder. "They'll always listen to the men."
"That's bullshit."
"Well, that's just the way it goes." I didn't feel like talking about it one minute longer. He could go on with his anger, pleasantly justified, and part of me was touched he was furious on my behalf, but I was one person out of so many, and one of the people who would have to live with it. His anger would be subdued eventually, brushed under the rug, but I'd be worrying about the what ifs and the what could have beens of life. It was my pain, my agony, and I couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't dump it all on him. It didn't concern him, nor would he be able to make it go away. "Can you turn off the light? I think we've earned some rest."
The room quickly faded into darkness. The arm he kept around me, his lips pressed to the side of my head were clear reminders that, while I was there, with him, I was safe. This was the man who had saved my life.
That wasn't something I'd get over.
▬ ▬ ▬ ▬ ▬
i feel like i should make yet another reminder that my characters' opinions and their thoughts and ways they see the world aren't necessarily my own. assault is something very serious, and so is attempted assault, and it's not something i take lightly. therefore, it's important to remember it's not something that will go away thanks to a relationship and no one is here to save anyone. penn still has the strength of spirit to be aware of this, both in the past and in the present, and there's some therapeutic work needing to be done between these two moments.
i will not be expanding that part of the plot because it's not what this book is about and i don't want to mislead my readers into thinking that. it's not something that will be ignored going forward by any means, as we all know penn clings to the "chase saved my life" aspect as a way of painting a pretty picture of him and justifying how shitty he is to her, and she feels in debt to him for that. it's not healthy. it's not something to be glamorized or romanticized. with that being said, the investigation will be mentioned, yes, but it won't be a major plot point because it simply is not the focus of the story. it's one event in penn's life, and i don't want to not do it justice and risk not handling it carefully enough by making this book go an entirely different direction than planned.