Page 93 of Bewitch

“I try to never assume,” I say slowly, wondering how I can maybe steer the conversation toward Carl.

Or maybe that’s who she’s talking about as far as asking a question and then answering it.

But maybe not. The last thing I want to do is to pry and push her and risk making the girl feel like anything that might’ve happened to her is her fault.

She drums her fingers on the table and then rubs the back of her neck. “Do you ever feel like you’re going insane?”

“I think everyone—”

“No. You. Do you ever think it?” she asks, sounding almost desperate.

I bite my lower lip and nod. “Yes,” I whisper.

“I don’t like a lot of attention,” Cindy mutters. She stares at her hands. “I… I… There’s a box. I’m in it. It’s where I go when I want to stay safe. I…”

Abruptly, she stands.

“I can’t do this,” she says, eyeing the door.

“You can walk away, Cindy. No one is forcing you to come here, but if you want to talk about anything at all, I’m willing to listen, and if that box has a door, I would like to come inside.”

“Why?” she whispers. “Who has hurt you?”

I make a face. “Honestly? Me. I’ve hurt myself.”

Cindy sits back down. “My one uncle… I never liked him. My mom used to make me hug him even though I didn’t want to. He used to touch me in places he shouldn’t, and I told her. She didn’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry—”

“She didn’t believe me, and he went on to touch his neighbor’s girl, only he didn’t just touch her. He went a lot further, a lot, and that was when he was finally caught, but… if I had gone to the police… if I had convinced my mom…”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, reaching toward her hands.

She drops them onto her lap and flinches. “Carl… the janitor… he hasn’t touched me, but… I think he might. I think… He looks at me the way my uncle used to.”

“Have you tried to avoid him?”

She nods. “He likes to take a break during one class, and he’ll sit with a chair in the hallway so he can look inside the classroom. I moved all over in the class to try to find a spot where he wouldn’t be able to look in on me.”

“Did that stop him?”

Cindy shakes her head. “He would wait for me when class would end. I tried to leave with other ids, but he always manages to slip in beside me no matter what I do. He doesn’t say anything, but that he’s always there… I don’t like the way he makes me feel.”

“Is there anything else?”

She shakes her head again. “He doesn’t even touch me, so… That’s why I think I’m going insane. He’s not actually doing anything to hurt me.”

“He’s hurting your peace of mind and making you want to retreat into that box,” I say. “That’s hurting you.”

She blinks a few times, and a single tear trickles down her cheek. “I… I want to stop him. Can we… Can we do that?”

“I’m going to try my best,” I assure her.

“I just… I hate myself,” she blurts out. “My mom didn’t want me to testify at my uncle’s trial. She said she would pay for me to go to college if I didn’t say anything, that I wouldn’t have to pay one cent, so I agreed. My uncle will be eligible for parole far too quickly, but maybe if I had spoken up in front of the jury… with the lawyer… more charges might’ve been brought up against him. I… I won’t make the wrong choice again. I won’ be silent, but…”

“Your uncle tried to groom you,” I say. “You’re too old for Carl to be considered a groomer, but he’s testing you to see what your limits are, and that’s basically the same thing. Avoid him at all costs. Make a friend with someone in that class and never leave without them as a buffer. Film him with your phone, and maybe he’ll back off.”

“I… I can try to do that.”

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