Page 128 of Unspoken Truths

Even if my body is covered, there’s a word on my forehead, my cheek, and across my throat as well. I just don’t know what they are. While I could have easily looked while in the car, I’m really scared to see how bad it is.

“What will get the ink off her skin, Lili?” he asks as she joins us.

“Rubbing alcohol or acetone,” she says with a wince. “I’m going to need a lot of it and cotton balls to soak them in. They held her down to write all over her skin.”

“And then they threw me into the creek,” I sigh.

Emil notices the full body shudder I have, closing the car door behind me as Lili locks the doors.

“We need to get inside,” he says, ushering me in. “Your mom is aware you were on your way home. She?—”

“Rachelle?” Mom asks, stepping outside. “What?—”

“The boys,” Emil growls. “This is getting out of control.”

“Your face,” she whispers, eyes wide. We’re standing underneath the lantern lights by the door, which means she can see everything. “Was Ignacio part of this?”

“He wrote whatever is on my forehead,” I whisper. The tears had slowed, but seeing her face, and how horrified she looks, makes me want to cry again.

Swallowing hard, she nods. “Emil,” she says, “I am not responsible for whatever I do when I next see him.”

“You can have whatever you’d like to do it with,” he says as if he’d offer her the world, and not the chance to fuck up his son.

“Shower first to get warm, and then we’ll deal with everything else,” Mom says resolutely, ushering me inside. “Lili, cover all the mirrors in the bathroom, please.”

“Mom,” I sigh. This feels like overkill. I can see what’s on my skin if I force myself to look, but I don’t have the guts to yet.

“No,” she growls. “You don’t need to see the bullshit they wrote on your face.”

“It’s all over her skin, but the worst is on her face,” Lili confirms as they hustle me upstairs.

Emil stays downstairs, I guess waiting for his employee that’s a paramedic.

“Then, the mirrors still need to be covered,” Mom mutters.

Lili runs ahead because I have a mirror in my room as well, and I’m suddenly left alone with my mom.

“You can’t swim,” she says softly. “I mean, not very well anyway. How did you get out of the creek? It’s a miracle you didn’t drown.”

“I just kept kicking and fighting,” I say honestly. “It’s not even like I had the use of my arms since they were tied up to my elbows.”

“Those boys aren’t welcome in this house,” she decides. “If I could, I would kick Ignacio out too. This is going too far.”

“It’s been too much since the first day I started school,” I admit, walking into my room to find all of the mirrors covered with sheets.

In the bathroom, there’s everything from a pillowcase over the medicine cabinet mirror, to a giant sheet over the main mirror.

“Take it one moment at a time,” Mom instructs. “Do you want Emil to call Barrett?”

Thinking, I shake my head. I’m in too much shock to spiral right now. I can’t believe I’m alive, which means I’m not suicidal either. I’m simply a blank canvas, crying because it’s my body’s response to this dumpster fire of a day.

My eyes feel raw, my skin disgusting from dried mud and sweat. A shower to get warm and clean up is the best thing I can imagine.

“Not right now,” I say as Mom turns on the water.

“Do you need anything else? Want Lili or I to stay with you?” she asks.

“I just need to wrap my mind around today,” I respond. “A part of me has been so busy surviving, I’m not sure how to feel.”

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