Page 67 of Unraveling Rain
I take another sip of water, stalling.
The next part is the worst. I need a moment before I can say it out loud.
“One night, we were by the creek. High school kids used to hang out there, build bonfires, and drink the beers that Laney Harris would sneak from her dad’s basement. You know… silly high school shenanigans.”
I pause again. Xander passes a tissue over my cheek. Only then do I realize I’m crying.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He winks, and I manage a small, grateful smile.
“That night was especially beautiful. The stars were brighter than usual. Dennis said we could park his truck in a field and stargaze. We’d done something like that before, so I didn’t think anything of it.”
I breathe in slowly.
“When we got to the field, I realized we were farther out than ever before. He grabbed blankets and pillows from the back seat and made a bed in the truck bed. We lay there, holding hands. It was nice for a while—just talking, watching the sky.”
My voice thins. “Then we started kissing, and it felt good. I was happy.”
I glance at Xander, but he stays silent, giving me space.
“When he started touching me, alarm bells went off in my head. But I didn’t stop him—it still felt… okay. Until he started unbuttoning my skirt. I froze and told him I wanted to go home.”
Xanders stills, his attention razor-sharp.
“He sneered at me. Tried again. I said no, over and over, but he wouldn’t stop. He said he was done waiting. That he was going to get what he had earned after waiting so long for it.”
My breath shudders. “I dug my nails into his arms, tried to scratch him, to shove him off—and that’s when he slapped me.”
Xander’s arms are around me instantly. I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder as the next words tumble out, broken and raw.
“He slapped me again. And again. Until I stopped fighting. Then he pulled down my skirt… and my underwear… and got on top of me.”
His arms tighten around me, grounding me as my voice shakes.
“He put his hand on my throat and said he would choke me to death if I kept fighting him. So I didn’t.”
The sobs rip through me. I’m crying uncontrollably, and Xander rocks us gently, back and forth, holding me through it all.
“It’s okay, my sweet, wild cherry. You’re safe with me. I got you,” he whispers into my hair again and again as I let years of anger, fear, and heartbreak finally leave my chest.
At some point, I notice Xander’s shirt is damp—not from my tears, but his.
I lift my head to look at him. Xander’s crying. For me. For what I went through.
More tears fall, but my voice is steady now when I whisper, “Thank you for being here.”
He doesn’t respond with words, just holds me tighter, whispering sweet nothings and kisses on my hair. We sit like that—quiet, close—until the worst of the storm passes.
Eventually, my sobs subside. I place a kiss on Xander’s arm and gently pull away from his embrace.
“Do you want to finish the story? Or do you want to rest?” he asks, tender and patient.
Rearranging my position, I say, “I want to tell you the rest.”
He nods. I finish the last sip of water, then continue.
“When he was done, he put his pants back on and climbed into the truck. He started driving, and I just lay there, in the truck bed. Crying. Shivering. I was in denial. How could something like that happen to me? Why didn’t I stop him? I knew better. Mama had given me the talk.Nomeansno.It was my choice, not his. But I let him.”
