Page 56 of Promise Me Nothing
“That’s a lie!” I shout, then look at Renee. “Ask anyone else in the house. He attacked me. I’ve been screaming for help for the past five minutes.”
“Obviously, if she’d been screaming, like she said, someone would have come to help. But that’s not what really, happened, is it Hannah?” Rob says, shaking his head at me, like I’m a child that’s been caught lying.
I can’t believe what’s happening. And when I look at Renee, I can see it in her eyes. She knows. She knows I’m telling the truth. I can tell because she looks pained. Like it sickens her that Rob would do what I’m accusing him of doing.
But I can also tell that she’s going to choose to believe what Rob says instead.
“Go to your room, Hannah,” Renee says, and I see her face harden, a glare creeping into place. “We can deal with all of this tomorrow.”
I sit in stunned silence for just a second, my mouth open in surprise.
“Go!” she shouts, and I scurry up to standing, even though I’m still slightly drunk. Then I slink off to my room, skirting Rob, his eyes still following me with lust even after what just happened.
It takes me hours to fall asleep that night after I take a shower to clean Rob off my skin, the blood that spattered on my chest making a pink hue as it washes down the drain. I scrub between my legs, along my hips, down my legs, across my breasts. Anywhere that he touched I make sure to clean as well as I can.
Though, try as I might, I can never manage to erase the mark he left on me.
My dress is ruined, though the only reason that actually matters is because I saved up for six months to buy a nicer dress from the mall for this dance. Even if the blood wasn’t all over the light green fabric, I still don’t think I’ll ever want to wear it again. Not after Rob’s hands were all over me, pulling at whatever he wanted.
I don’t cry though. I cried right after it happened, and it got me nowhere. Renee saw me, sobbing, assaulted, my entire body feeling like a raw open wound. And it did nothing. So I force myself not to cry again about it.
Because no one will care.
The following morning, my caseworker shows up at the door and tells me to pack my things.
She tells me with a disappointed face that I was reported for being violent, lying, and having substance abuse problems.
It only occurs to me for a second to tell her the truth about what happened. But I just can’t imagine why she would believe me. Not when the case against me has already been made.
So I just follow along with her instructions. Move to a new foster home. A new place to hate. A new space that never really feels like a place I belong.
I never told Sienna. Never told anyone, actually. Because no one wants to know these things. No one wants to hear that the children in the system are abused, assaulted, neglected, ignored.
It’s why I’m going to be a foster mom someday. I want to make sure that the kids who stay with me feel loved and welcomed and cherished, even if they’re only with me for a few days. I want them to feel safe. It’s the one thing I can promise them and really deliver on.
Because in the world I come from – that they will be coming from – promises don’t mean shit.
And maybe my own experience should mean I’m unable to trust anyone. Ever.
But it doesn’t.
If anything, it makes me wish even harder to find someone someday that I can believe in. That will love me because they love me. That will prove it to me with their actions, not just their words. Someone that sees me as more than just a paycheck, or a body to fuck, or any other thing that I can be used for.
It’s one of the reasons I try not to allow myself to be on my own for too long. I’ve been a person who has only had herself to rely on for quite a while, now. And I want to push myself to not see that as my only option.
There has to be something better.
Someone better.
I just have to keep believing that.
I look around the dining room after my shift is over, spotting Eleanor on the far side, entering an order into the POS, her hair up in a funky bun held in place with a few pencils.
She’s the one person out of the bunch from Sunday evening at Harbor’s that has stayed friendly. We’ve had a few shifts together, and she’s always been smiley and willing to chat with me when we’re waiting at the bar for drink orders to be filled.
Though if I want to be a pessimist about it, Eleanor is also the one person who seemed like she was beyond excited to talk to Paige. It makes me wonder if she really wants to be friends with me, or if she’s staying moderately nice to me because I’m Lucas Pearson’s sister.
I hate that I’m even considering that idea, and I try to shake it off. I tuck that thought into the back of my mind, choosing to file it away for examination some other day, choosing instead to believe that Eleanor is a genuine person. And then I head in her direction.
