Page 113 of Behind the Bars

“This past July, we were offered a record deal, and it was huge. It was everything we’d ever wanted and more. Of course, we threw a huge party. Trevor rented out this club and invited everyone they knew—which was a crazy amount of people. During the party, while we were all having a good time, I headed to the bathroom. It was a one-person restroom, and, um, as I was washing my hands, the door opened, and it was Trevor. I told him to leave, and as I tried to walk past him, he grabbed me and placed his hands under my ass and squeezed it. I kept shoving him and saying no, but he was hammered—of course—and he wouldn’t listen. Then he groped my chest and I kneed him extremely hard then got away. When I found my mom, I was crying and shaking, feeling violated, and instead of her love, I got heranger.”

“What?” he asked,baffled.

“Yeah. She, um, backed him up and told me it was myfault.”

“How could she dothat?”

“Ya know, if I didn’t dress like a slut, people wouldn’t treat me like one, that kind of thing. I wore the outfit they chose for me. I did everything they told me to, but still, it was my fault her boyfriend crossed that line. I was the one atfault.”

A vein popped out of Elliott’s neck as he pounded his right fist into the palm of his left. “What a sick bastard,” he hissed. “If I ever seehim…”

“It doesn’t matter,” I told him. “I gotaway.”

“No, youdidn’t.”

“Yes, I did. I broke free. He didn’t really touch me…and then I left. I got here before anythinghappened.”

“Jazz…something did happen. What he did toyou—”

“It could’ve been a lot worse,” I said emphatically, shaking my head back and forth. “He didn’t rape me, he didn’t…” As those words left my mouth, my body began to shake. “It didn’t go too far. I waslucky.”

Elliott leaned in and took my hands in his. “What he did to you was wrong. What he took from you without your permission, how he put his hands on you wasdisgusting.”

“I got away. I ran away before he could take more. Others have had it wayworse.”

“Listen to me, just because others have been hurt in different ways, that doesn’t make your pain mute. You’re allowed to feel hurt. You’re allowed to feel violated. You’re allowed to want to scream, toshout.”

“My mom was right—my dress was short, too low-cut…” I said, feeling sick as I spoke thewords.

“You could’ve walked into that club naked and he still wouldn’t have had the right to lay a hand on you. Do you understandme?”

I nodded, though I still felt unsure. I’d spent my life being told everything was my fault, that the weight of Mama’s suffering came from my faults, and now Elliott sat in front of me, telling me I was wrong, that I wasn’t to blame, that Mama’s faults were hers and only hers. He was telling me everything would beokay.

It was as if he’d taken the weight of the world fromme.

“You said something last night that b-bothered me,” he confessed. “You said Katie’s death was because ofyou.”

“Yeah.”

“You believe that?” heasked.

“It crosses my mind, or at least I believe it’s sometimes hard for you to be around me, because I’m a reminder of the worst time of your life. I get that, though. Iunderstand.”

He narrowed his eyes and stared down at the carpeted floor. “The day after I t-took you out on our first date, Katie came to me, smiled, and said, ‘I was wrong about that girl, Eli. She’s a good thing.’” He brushed his hands against the back of his neck and looked up, locking his eyes with mine. “She loved you forme.”

“Eli…”

“I’m hard,” he told me. “Over the years, I’ve been cold and short and mean sometimes, and yet, you still showed up. You still smiled at me, because you’re good. You’re a good thing, and that’s hard for me be-because you remind me of my past, but you’re not a reminder of the worst times.” He shook his head. “You’re a reminder of the best time of my life, and I didn’t think I deserved you,” he confessed. “For the longest time, I didn’t think I deserved to feelgood.”

I reached out and took his hands into mine. “You do, Eli. You deserve to be happy, more thananything.”

“It’s hard to be around you sometimes,” hewhispered.

“Why’sthat?”

His eyebrows knit together and he lowered his voice. “Because you make my heartbeat.”

“And what’s wrong with a beatingheart?”

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