Page 14 of All My Firsts

Some of my best memories from my childhood were from when my mother would take me to the library for story time. I loved choosing the little piece of carpet we’d sit on from the pile. All the kids would rush over, trying to find their favorite one from the mountain in the corner of the children’s section. Mine was a blue shag piece because I loved running my fingers through the fibers while I listened to the stories being read. My mom would disappear to the adult section, choosing her books for the week while I sat with the neighborhood kids. We anxiously waited for the librarian to select and read whatever author she featured that week. Afterward, my mom would help me pick my own books for the week.

When we got home, I would run up to my room and plop on my beanbag chair and spend hours looking at my books. I thought I could read, but I couldn’t yet. My mom would read the books to me before bed, and I would try to remember the words and say them out loud the next day. I pored over them all week and couldn’t wait to go back again the following week forstory time.

This time in my life instilled my lasting love for reading. I loved the idea of a library, borrowing something, taking care of something that wasn’t yours, and bringing it back for others tothen enjoy.

As I was sitting in the university library trying to get some work done, I heard little voices somewhere that kept distracting me, bringing me back to memories of my childhood.

I was enjoying the distraction; I don’t think about good memories from my time back in Texas as often as I should. I had fifteen years of life that were amazing before Max came along, fifteen years of memories I needed to hold on to and remember.

As I sat there, I thought back to the condition of the books I took home as a child. Some were in pristine condition, but others were literally falling apart at the binding. I always wondered why people didn’t respect the books they borrowed.

But that’s exactly what Max did to me. He borrowed me, mistreated me. But unlike the borrowers returning books to the library, he was very careful to hide the damagehe had done.

My parents were in the dark about the abuse I was enduring. The only way they would have known was if I had told them. I was always careful with clothing choices and hairstyles, but there was no one as observant as I was. And the threats from Max were a strong deterrent as well.

Abusers are very smart that way; they know exactly what to say to their victims to intimidate them into silence.

They know exactly where on the body to inflict harm so it willnot be seen.

They know exactly how far to push before the person goes over the edge.

The ping on my phone broke me from my trance-like thoughts, and my heart sank. I prayed it wasn’t another manic text from him. They’d been getting more numerous, and it was starting toconcern me.

I took my phone out of my bag and smiled, seeing whoit was from.

Becca:

Me and the guys are going for food, you done studying yet

Me:

Almost and I’m starving save me a seat I’ll meet you guys there

Perfect timing. I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I might as well pack this up andhead on out.

“Lanie!” Logan screamed my name from somewhere in the crowd. I looked around and saw him running to catch up to me. “You headed to the cafeteria?”

“I am. Did you get the text from Becca, too?” We fell into a stride together, his steps slower than mine due to his long legs.

“Yeah, good thing, too. I’m starving. But when am I not, right?” His smile was wide as he looked down at me. Logan and I had become closer. We had an unspoken connection. He must have had some traumatic past haunting him as well, because he just seemed to get it. The other night, Becca had been getting on my case about not going to the football games. To be exact, she wanted me to go to the tailgate parties. But I wasn’t ready to be in crowds that large. Logan shut Becca down. He told her to leave me alone and that I would go whenI was ready.

It had been a long time since I had someone on my side, and it felt kind of nice. I wasn’t expecting it to be some huge, brooding ex-football player.

Looking at my phone as we continued walking into the cafeteria, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was trying to see if Becca had mentioned where she was sitting so Logan and I would know where to go. The scrape of the metal chair legs on the tile floor as we approached should have been a sure sign. I didn’t see the person who was pushing from their seat right in front of me. He stood up, and we collided. His hands were immediately on my arms to steady me, and before I raised my eyes, I knew who it had to be.

Itwas Xander.

I was making a habit ofdoing this.

“Oh my God, Xander, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, Lanie, you OK?”

“Yeah, I should probably look where I’m goingmore, huh?”

“You could be more careful getting up, dude.” Logan’s tone made both Xander and me snap our heads in his direction. His eyes were glued to Xander’s hands, which were still on my arms, while Logan’s own hands were fisted at his sides. He stepped toward me protectively, coming closer as if to take mein his arms.

I glanced at Xander as I shrugged out of his hold, not wanting this to escalate. His eyes moved from Logan to me and back again. This was my first time seeing this side of Xander; he was angry. I saw the slow swallow in his throat, the measured breaths as he tried to maintain control.

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