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Someone who raped her.
The answer hits me like a punch to my gut and that word in my mind makes me feel like Hulking-out and ripping reality apart.
For the first time in my life, I feel like a self-centered asshole who does think everything’s about him.
It isn’t.
I’m so numb with rage that I release her arm when she wrenches it free of my grasp.
“Billie—”
“Just leave me alone.” Her voice is barely audible through her tears.
I don’t want to leave her, but I think tonight it might be for the best.
I watch her rush up the path and into the house. When the door closes, the sound echoes in my heart.
I called her mine earlier, but she didn’t feel like mine until just now when I witnessed her pain.
Chapter17
Billie
I overreacted with Chad yesterday.
At least I think in his mind I did.
The only thing I know is that I wouldn’t have acted any other way if I did it all over again.
The wind picks up the ends of my hair as I stare out into the shadowy expanse of the Hudson River.
I couldn’t stay in the house today, so I went for a long walk. The kind that saw me gone for the whole day. I drove out to the Palisades because Isabelle told me it was good for those times when you needed to get lost from the world.
She was right. The place is huge and beautiful.
I walked around, then before night fell I stationed myself here by the edge of the cliff so I could watch the sunset.
I thought I’d leave then, but I’m still here. I’m reluctant to go home because I don’t want to answer questions I know I’ll find difficult to answer.
When I got in last night, I ran straight up to my room. I knew Mom and Cal were home and hours later, they came to see if I was okay.
I never said much, but they could see I was far from as calm as I’d assured them.
I’ll never be okay, never be fine, never be whole.
The memory of my attack triggered this time because of how badly I want to forget.
As Chad called me his, I didn’t even think of the warning not to fall for him. I wanted to be his and I desperately wanted to forget the past. Then I realized it would always be a part of me.
I know he figured it out. I could tell he knew what happened to me even without me saying it.
I remember when it all happened. I felt vile and disgusting. Filthy and dirty. Unworthy of anything good. Like the little whore that devil used to call me.
I stopped speaking for a while, and it wasn’t until after a few years of therapy that I felt like myself again.
By then, I was nearly twelve. To go through something like that at such a young age was awful. Sometimes I don’t know how I did it and I always worry about what people will think of me when they find out the sordid details of my past.
What did Chad think?
