Page 13 of Silent Damage

They touch.

Jason and I stand in the trailer, motionless. His eyes glance to the table where I placed the drawing. He looks at it, and that look from before morphs into a scowl right before my eyes.

When our eyes meet again, his are dark. Mean. My hackles rise, and those horrible things he said echo in my mind.

I clench my fists and scowl right back at him.

“So, where should I put my stuff?” he asks, never taking his eyes off me.

“Here.” Mom hurries over and takes his duffel.

She leads Jason to the one bedroom in the trailer. We squeezed a second bed in when we found out Jason was coming. The room is basically two mattresses with less than six inches between them.

I slept on the couch throughout my childhood, and the thought of doing it again makes me nauseous.

Jason peeks into the room and says, “Wow,” in a deadpan voice.

“I know it’s tight,” Mom says in an apologetic tone. “Wish we had more space.”

Jason sighs. “Yeah, me too.”

Doug releases a frustrated grunt. “You know, we moved really quickly to get another bed for you. The least you could do is thank us.”

“Doug—” Mom shakes her head, chastising Doug with her eyes.

As mad as I am at Jason, it’s hard to deny what an asshole Doug is.

Mom sure knows how to pick ‘em.

Jason takes a breath, visibly trying not to say something in response to Doug.

“I appreciate you letting me stay,” Jason says to Mom and only to Mom.

“It’s cramped. I know it’s not the best, but I think it’ll feel cozy once you get used to it.”

Jason looks at me, and my whole chest tightens when his blue eyes meet mine.

“You think it’ll feel cozy, Gabe?” he asks in a taunting tone, and a cold chill goes down my back. I don’t know what Jason’s heard about me.

Mom looks at me, her eyes pleading with me to respond.

“What? You’re not even going to talk to me?” Jason asks with a snarky tone.

All I can do is stare, my chest heaving as I continue clenching my fists.

Mom lowers her eyes in defeat and explains, “Gabe…well, Gabe…he…”

“He stopped talking after everything happened,” Doug blurts while rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Jason stares at me, his face completely still. There’s no emotion. Blank.

He blinks and asks, “What?”

My body recoils. It’s too much. The shame and guilt are unbearable.

Before Mom can continue, I scribble down what I need to say on the drawing, my hands shaking as I write it all out. I crumple it into a ball, storm in his direction, and pause. I stand before him, my body tense and shaking, then toss the crumpled ball in his lap.

Without breaking eye contact, I back away, then turn and exit the trailer.