Page 68 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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that it wasn’t their fault.

They’ve already told me

that after discussing it with their mum

they’ve found a sexual assault support group,

which they plan to go to,

and they’re on a waiting list for a therapist.

Vass tells me it felt like they left their body

while it was happening.

“It’s called dissociation,” they say.

They’ve decided not to report Adonis

to the police in Cyprus.

I worry about this.

I worry Adonis might

sexually assault someone else,

but I don’t feel it’s my place to say.

It’s Vass’s choice, at the end of the day.

I do my best not to think about Adonis.

Vass is my concern, not him.

I rest my hand on Vass’s back

between their jutting shoulder blades.

For a few agonizing moments,

we stay like this,

side by side on our swings.

When Vass stands,

I stand with them.

They turn and throw

their arms around me,

and cry even harder

into my shoulder.

I’ve never been

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