Page 183 of The Perfect Love

But I don’t get to have that. Not when the person I need is the woman I might’ve unknowingly helped to break.

Chelsea

Trevor looked so utterly broken when I left him tonight, but I didn’t know what to do. What to say.

He was arrested for fighting for me.

Because his former roommate raped me.

And I have no idea how to process any of that.

I usually love the little ways we’re tethered together, but I’d break and burn this particular bridge if I could.

I flick on the light in my room, shaking and numb, and walk over to the bed. Then I drop down onto the mattress. The mattress with the thick gel cover on top. The gel cover Trevor bought. For me.

Because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me.

Including destroy himself in the process.

I lie down in the fetal position, tears in my eyes as a heavy, dark numbness washes over me.

I spent hours at the police station, recounting my story, having men gaslight me. Thankfully, Jacinta—a friend of Gran’s who she immediately called for help—was there for the majority of it to help me through. By the end of it all, which included medoing a voice line-up, where I couldn’t see the person, but could hear them. I had to select a sentence I remember him saying—only a handful, though seeing him made some things I wish could’ve stayed locked away come back—and listen to it repeated several times. I picked him without a second thought. All of it ended with the DA wanting to pursue a DNA warrant for DJ—Dane. Fuckhead. I wish I’d never have to hear his name again. Not a likelihood, though. As much as I want him to be held accountable, the thought that I’ll have to endure a trial if his DNA matches—which I know it will—is gut churning.

And how does Trevor fit into all of it? Jacinta says they’re not pressing charges against him, thank goodness, but since he knew this asshole and then punched him? How does that factor in?

It’s too much.

It’s all too much.

Tears stream down my cheeks, and I wish I could turn off my brain. Force myself to go to sleep. I’m exhausted, but there’s too much rattling around inside me.

The bed shifts next to me, and I look up at Gran.

“I brought some tea.”

A sob bubbles up, and she slides down on the bed and wraps an arm around me.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“I think I failed,” I choke out.

“Failed at what?”

“You told me not to let anyone take my power, but I’ve never felt so weak.”

“I don’t accept that. I heard how you handled yourself tonight. With integrity and your head held high. That’s not weakness. That’s strength.” She sweeps some hair out of my face. “Strength doesn’t stop you from hurting or letting yourself break. It just helps you know you can rise again and be okay on the other side.”

I glance at the phoenix on my bracelet.

Resilient. Invincible.

I don’t feel either of those things right now.

In fact, I feel more like I’m burning up in all the flames as the fire suffocates me.

23

The Darkness

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