A/N
This chapter talks about r*pe.
I wake up with a throbbing headache, the memory of last night's heavy drinking hitting me hard. I head to the bathroom, hoping a shower might help clear my head a bit.
As I undress, I notice the marks left by his touch on my arms and back. It's almost enough to bring tears to my eyes, but I force myself to push through it.
Beneath the soothing flow of the shower, memories from last night begin to resurface. I can't recall much from last night, but his presence is etched into my memory—the way he touched me, the words he spoke, the pain he inflicted, and the sense of powerlessness that consumed me. I can't hold back the tears as I stand there, leaning against the tiled wall, trying to regulate my breathing which has become rapid and uneven.
I turn off the shower, hoping it will drown out the memories too, but they linger. Stepping out, I wrap a towel around myself and sit on the edge of the bathtub. I can't bring myself to move, to get dressed, or even to meet my mom's gaze as she enters the bathroom after knocking.
"Hey, I called for yo— what's wrong?" She asks, her voice laced with concern, crouching down in front of me. I want to speak, but the words seem trapped inside me, unable to find their way out.
"Oh, sweetie," she murmurs, enveloping me in a hug. I don't return the embrace; I can't find the strength to, but she holds onto me firmly. "What happened?" she whispers, releasing me slightly to search my eyes. I take a deep breath.
"Something... happened yesterday. But I'm not ready to talk about it," I confess softly, brushing away my tears.
"Alright, take your time. But if someone hurt you, you have to tell me, okay?" she insists, her tone becoming serious, and I wonder if she noticed the marks. I nod, realizing I might not tell her anytime soon. I need to handle this on my own, and besides, I'm too ashamed to even say it out loud.
She plants a quick kiss on my forehead before heading out again. I rise to my feet, and for some reason I feel a little stronger now. Today, I'm going to school, and I refuse to let him belittle me or bring me down. I'll show him my resilience, proving that I am far stronger than his despicable actions. When I'm ready to confront this, I'll ensure he gets fired – perhaps even arrested. However, I realize that without concrete evidence, seeking justice would be challenging.
I contemplate confiding in Hannah, considering she could help me access a rape kit at the nearest hospital. Yet, I hesitate, uncertain if I'm ready for her to know, especially considering the potential consequences if she decides to take matters into her own hands. The man's fate might be death—a thought that doesn't bother me much, but the prospect of her getting caught and arrested certainly does.
I decide to go to the hospital by myself. Dad's already left, so I have the car today. If I hurry, I might only miss the first, or possibly the second, class. And I can just use the excuse of sleeping in.
I dash downstairs and quickly gather some items from the kitchen to eat on the go. Diva rushes up to me, so I give her a quick pat before bidding goodbye to mom and bolting out the door.
After just a ten-minute drive, I arrive, feeling a surge of nervousness. How do I even broach this topic, and with whom? Should I speak to someone at the reception desk or seek out a doctor directly? I'm not prepared for this at all, but despite my mind screaming to flee, my body is already carrying me inside, scanning the area for someone to approach. I spot a woman at the front desk, and decide to talk to her.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but could I ask you something?" I question, nervously fidgeting with my nails. She looks up at me with a smile.
"Of course, dear. What's the question?" she responds, showing genuine interest.
"Well... euhm... I wanted to know where- I mean... how to get a rape kit done," I whisper the last part, not wanting anyone else to overhear. The kindness in the woman's eyes shifts to sympathy, and she nods, rising from her seat.
"Follow me, darling," she says, leading me down a hallway and into a room. The room is like any other in the hospital, yet it lacks windows, enveloped in softer lighting compared to the bright white glow of the surrounding corridors.
"You can lay down on the bed. Someone will be in here soon, alright?" The woman gestures towards the bed, and I nod, complying with her instructions. As she exits through another door, I settle onto the bed, awaiting the next steps.
A few minutes later, a doctor accompanied by the woman from the front desk enters the room. "This is Doctor Thornhill, and she will be conducting the kit. However, if you'd prefer, I can stay with you," the woman offers, but I decline, preferring minimal company. "Alright then, once it's completed, you'll have the option to stay here for a while if you'd like. But if you prefer to leave immediately, that's entirely up to you. You're in control," she assures me, and I offer a grateful smile, acknowledging her understanding.
• • •
"We're all done," the doctor says gently, tidying up the equipment. "All the data we collected will be entered into the system. It will be securely stored and accessed only when you choose to, alright?" She elaborates, and I nod in understanding. I've seen enough medical dramas to grasp the process, but I appreciate her clear explanation nonetheless.
I exit the hospital, eager to leave and knowing I should head to class. I slip into my car, and with a sigh, I start the engine and put on some music before pulling out of the parking lot. It's nearly half an hour later when I finally arrive at school, I feel the dampness of tears on my cheeks that must have escaped during the drive.
I adjust the vanity mirror to check my appearance, noticing smudged mascara that I quickly clean up. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car, the bell signaling the end of second period echoing in the background. Thankfully, I'll still make it on time for the third period due to the short break between classes.
Entering the school, I head to the front desk to inform them of my tardiness. Once it's logged in the system, I begin searching for Jennifer. Despite scanning the halls, she's nowhere to be found, prompting me to check the bathroom in hopes of locating her. As I navigate the corridors, I pass by Mr. Bayron's classroom, relieved to find it empty. Thoughts of him start to unsettle me, and I focus on steadying my breath as I continue on my search.
Pushing the door open, I step into the girls' bathroom. The room appears empty, but as I prepare to leave, a faint sound catches my attention from one of the back stalls. Curious, I move closer, straining to discern the source. The noise becomes more distinct with each step, and a sense of familiarity washes over me—it's the sound of someone vomiting and trying to be discreet about it.
I'm tempted to knock and check on the person inside, but they beat me to it by flushing the toilet and stepping out. It's Jennifer, and she appears worn out.
"Are you alright?" I ask, concern evident in my voice. She nods and proceeds to wash her hands before responding.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just not feeling great," she says, her smile faint. Despite her reassurance, I sense something off.
"Are you sure you don't want to go home? I can give you a ride," I offer, but she declines.
"No, I'll be fine. Thanks, though," she insists, drying her hands with a handful of paper towels. "We should head to class," she suggests, heading towards the door. I follow, still feeling uncertain, but I decide not to press the issue further.
As we make our way to our next class, which happens to be art class, I can't help but feel a twinge of reluctance. It's not that I dislike the subject per se, but rather that I struggle when forced to create on command. I find I'm at my best when I have the freedom to draw and paint at my own pace, without the pressure of deadlines and assignments looming over me.
• • •
The day dragged on, my mind drifting off frequently, leaving me feeling uneasy. I was grateful no one seemed to notice, and if they did, I appreciated being left alone.
I search for Hannah, hoping to talk to her before heading to therapy. Uncertain whether I'm ready to confide in her, I simply want to see her. Finding her classroom empty, I make my way to the library.
I knock softly on the door before entering. Hannah is organizing books, and she turns to greet me with a smile.
"Hey," she says, approaching me.
"Hey," I greet her back before she pulls me in for a quick kiss.
"I didn't know you were helping me today," she says as she goes back to the books on the table a few feet from us.
"I wasn't—or I'm not," I say, fidgeting with my nails. I want to tell her, but something holds me back. Sensing my hesitation, Hannah stops what she's doing and leans against the table.
"Is everything alright?" she asks, studying me.
"Yeah," I lie, quickly correcting myself, "I mean, no, not really," I sigh, forcing a smile.
"Is it about yesterday?" she questions, and I nod.
"It is," I confirm, moving to sit on the table. "It's just... I'm... I don't... I guess... it's just..." I struggle to find the words, but Hannah's comforting touch on my leg eases my unease.
"Just calm down, alright? It's okay, you don't have to rush anything, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she reassures, and I shake my head softly.
"I want you to know," I managed a slight smile. "I just don't know how to say it," I confess, and she nods in understanding. "It's just that something happened last night, something I'm ashamed of saying out loud," I said, feeling tears welling up again.
"Hey, it's okay. You can tell me. I won't judge," she assures, and I believe her. But I also know she would want to hurt someone after this.
"Let's just say that I went to the hospital this morning... to, um, to get a kit done. A... a rape kit," I confess, tears streaming down my cheeks. As I turn away, Hannah pulls me into a hug. She doesn't say anything, she just hugs me. In her embrace, I finally allow myself to fall apart, I feel safer than I have since yesterday. Her touch was the only one that doesn't remind me of him—just her, and her alone.
Holding her tight, I struggle to compose myself, attempting to steady my breathing. She brushes my hair gently before pulling away slightly, meeting my gaze.
"Who did this to you?" she whispers, anger and empathy flashing in her eyes and I shake my head. "Emily, who hurt you?" She asks still whispering, but there's urgency in her voice. I hesitate, ashamed.
"Mr. Bayron," I whispered back, feeling a surge of embarrassment. Hannah released me completely, fury radiating from her.
"I'm going to kill him," she mutters, her fists clenching as well as her jaw.
"Please, Hannah. Just leave it. I have evidence, and when I'm ready, I'll make sure he gets what he deserves. But I can't have you go around hurting him or even killing him, because... because..." Panic grips me, but I push the words out nonetheless. "Because, I can't lose you. So please don't do anything stupid that might get you arrested. I... I need you," I plead, my breath erratic. Her expression softens, the anger dissipating, replaced by something I can't quite place. Before I could dwell on it, her gaze shifts to one of apology. She draws closer, gently brushing away a strand of hair from my face and cupping my cheeks.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," she whispered, tears welling up. Something inside me breaks—she's blaming herself for what happened.
"It's not your fault," I whisper back, placing my hands on her wrists, reassuring her.
"But it is, isn't it?" she insists, a tear slipping down her cheek. "If I hadn't kicked you out yesterday like that, you wouldn't have gone to that bar. You would've been with me," she admits, her voice cracking.
"No, it's not your fault. It's not because of that, that I went to the bar," I reassure her. "I had a rough talk with my parents, which sent my head spinning, and I just needed it to stop. That's why I went to the bar. It's not your fault," I explain, tears streaming down her cheeks. This time, I pull her into a hug, holding her tightly.
"I'm sorry," she whispers through her sobs. "I should be the one comforting you," she manages with a small chuckle amidst her tears, and I can't help but smile.
"You are, believe me," I say, gently pulling back to meet her gaze. She brushes away her tears, her eyes flickering uncertainly over my face. Her gaze drifts to my lips, but she shakes her head, as if trying to snap herself out of it, as if it would be wrong. She's respecting my boundaries, but with her, there are none, and I want her to know that.
"Can I kiss you, Hannah?" I ask, meeting her eyes, sensing both uncertainty and desire. "It's okay, I want to," I reassure her, and she steps closer.
"Are you sure? I don't want to push anything," she asks, her eyes searching mine. I smile and draw her close. Our lips meet in a slow, passionate kiss. Her hands find my waist, pulling me closer. I bite her lip softly, eliciting a faint moan. She gently pushes me against the desk, silently asking me to sit. Stepping between my legs, her hands trace my thighs as she brushes her tongue against my lips, seeking entrance. I part them willingly, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.
As the kiss intensifies, my alarm interrupts us. Hannah pulls away, and I groan.
"What's wrong?" she asks, breathless.
"It's my alarm. I need to go. I'm seeing my therapist at five," I explain, disappointment evident in my voice. She nods understandingly.
"Okay. Do you need a ride?" she offers, but I decline.
"No, I drove here myself," I reply, closing the distance between us. She looks flushed, and the sight of her makes me dizzy with desire. Her hair is tousled, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips flushed pink, and her cheeks tinged with color.
Leaning in, her eyes flutter shut as our lips meet again in a brief kiss. Pulling away, I say, "I really need to go now."
"I'll see you tomorrow," she smiles, realizing I don't want to leave. She gently pushes me back, and I nod, coming back to my senses.
"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," I reply, feeling flushed. She smirks, and I gather my things, heading to the door.
"Hey, Emily," Hannah calls out, making me turn around. "I'm happy you told me, and I'm here for you," she adds, and I smile gratefully.
"Thank you," I say sincerely before turning and heading out. If I want to make it to my appointment on time, I have to hurry. I run to my car, quickly unlocking it and driving off.
With the music turned up, a smile tugs at my lips. Despite everything that has happened, especially yesterday, I feel happy. Maybe I'm just shutting everything out again, which is definitely a possibility, but for now, I am content.
And I won't let Mr. Bayron or anything else ruin that. What happened was terrible, and it will take time to heal, but right now, I am in control. I can bring him down whenever I choose. He has nothing on me.
A/N
Every one wanted Emily to tell Hannah, so here you go;)
Lmk if there's anything you'd like to see, and I'll try adding it! I hope you liked it<3
Regards
~N💋