Page 77 of In For a Penny
It took a while toaccept that no matter how many times I showered, it would unquestionablynoterase what had happened last night. So, I stopped trying. I heard Allie leave around two p.m. I think she must’ve assumed I had slept over at Oliver’s, because she never checked to see if I had gotten home or not, and for that I was thankful. I wasn’t ready to face anyone just yet. She hadn’t known about my plan.
It is late in the afternoon when I eventually leave my bedroom in search of my cell phone and some food. I’m not in the mood for anything, but I think maybe something might make me feel better. I open my fridge and stare into it for a couple of minutes, not seeing its contents. I can feel my empty stomach, but I’m not hungry. I can’t eat. Every time I blink, I can see his head between my legs or feel him touching me, and it makes me gag.
So, food is out of the question, then.
I sigh and head for the couch, sitting down in front of the TV, checking my phone for the first time since last night. Not really sure I want to join civilization again, I unlock the screen and check my notifications.
I have several missed calls and text messages. Hesitating, I consider ignoring them and spending the rest of my life in isolation by myself at home—or at least for the rest of the weekend. But then he wins. And I can’t let that happen.
Shit.
Three messages and two missed calls from Josh.
Josh: Hey, I’m waiting in pod 10. Are you close?
Josh: We said today 2 pm, right?
Josh: Hey, I just called you. Hope you’re ok. LMK if you need anything. I’m headed back home.
I start crying again.
Josh.
Sweet, caring Josh.
We were supposed to finish our project today, and I just disappeared. I completely forgot. And his first instinct wasn’t even to get mad for bailing—he was concerned.
I should have listened to Oliver.
I sob, eyes blurring from tears. I apologize for missing our study date and reply back that I’m not feeling well and think I’m contagious. I had to say something to keep him away, or he would show up with chicken soup and comfort food.
The next message is from Oliver from a couple of hours ago.
Oliver: You’re an absolute legend! Tom just told us what happened last night. Have to say, I’m surprised. I thought you didn’t want to shag him. So proud of you.
I stare at the phone screen until it goes black. So he told Oliver—or rather, toldthem. Does he mean the entire rugby team’s group chat?
And he’s proud of me?
Yeah, I’m proud of myself, too. For being a complete and fucking moron. For being an idiot. For putting myself in danger just because I felt like I had something to prove instead of taking it easy and going back into the dating world at my own pace.
Super proud.
I’m so stupid.
I can’t breathe. I feellike I’m choking. I sit up in my bed and gasp loudly.
Oh. It was a dream.
No—not a dream. A flashback in a dream.
It’s five p.m. on Monday and raining. The pitter-patter of the rain, usually a soothing and calming balm for my soul, has left me feeling unsettled and uncomfortable. The cacophonous sounds of the drops hitting the windows of my apartment have added to the scramble in my brain that Tom’s abuse has caused.
I skipped class today. Fuck school, though. I can’t even remember why I chose to come here. I don’t even remember why I ever thought going to another country, another continent, would be good for me. I can’t clearly remember why I ever thought leaving New York would be a good idea.
I do remember Friday night, though. I remember seeing Tom for the first time in person. I remember thinking how cute his blond curls were and how kind his eyes looked. I remember speaking to him most of the night and feeling happy that, although he was in fact a bit boring, he seemed incredibly nice.
And then…I remember the force with which he held my hips down, the darkness in his eyes, and the sharp pain as his teeth sank into my thighs. And the tears start falling again. I thought I had been unconscious for that part. Does that mean I’m going to start remembering more things?
