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“What sort of people do that to their own child? It is disgusting.” Alana shakes her head. “I am sorry you went through that. Is that why you never miss a meal?”
“Yes. When I was finally taken away, I was malnourished. My ribs were sticking out, and my clothes were falling off of me. That was the kind of people they were.” I was starved because of them.
“You said you were abused. In what way?” she asks softly.
I am trying not to get too overwhelmed by her questions, but I don’t know if I can handle telling her everything at once.
My entire body tenses because if I tell her everything, she may look at me differently.
Alana sits up on her knees between my legs, reaching in she caresses my cheek. “Ezra, if you aren’t ready to tell me, I understand.” She sounds calm, not annoyed.
“You-You will see me d-differently if I t-tell you,” I stammer out, shame taking over me.
I watch Alana's face change. “I know that look too well,” she whimpers.
“What look?” I ask, confused.
“You were sexually abused, weren’t you?” There are tears in her eyes.
“How do you know that?” I panic. I don’t understand. I have never spoken about it. No one knows about it, not even my adoptive parents or the social workers.
Alana takes a deep breath, slowly backing away from me, and I intuitively realise why. Someone has hurt her in the same way I was. It’s written all over her face. I sit up, taking my place in front of her.
“Alana, what happened? Who hurt you?” I hiss, my fists clenching as anger runs rampant through me. If I ever find who did it, I will fucking kill them with my bare hands.
“It was when I was couch surfing. There was a party at one of the houses I slept at. One guy who was there acted all sweet towards me. We spent our night talking and having a few drinks. I thought he was a nice guy, until he wasn’t. We went to one of the rooms to be alone. I made it clear I didn’t want to have sex, I only wanted to mess around a little. He seemed fine with it, but the second we were alone, he took advantage of me. I tried to fight him off, but he was bigger than me. I tried to scream for help, but he covered my mouth.”
Alana sobs, her hands shaking. “I was sixteen, still a virgin. Once he finished, he stood there calmly as he adjusted his clothes.” Alana is looking at her hands as she twists them in her lap. “He didn’t even take his jeans off. He acted like nothing happened and re-joined the party.”
My heart breaks for her because I know what carrying that type of pain around can do to you.
“Alana, I am sorry someone thought it was okay to take advantage of you like that. I will never understand what goes through someone’s head to think they have the right to hurt people in such horrible ways. Did you report it?” I ask softly.
“No. I couldn’t. At the time I was too scared to because I blamed myself for it. I told myself I was drinking. I went into the room alone with him, and if I reported it, no one would believe me. Looking back now, I wish I did because I know it wasn’t my fault. He was to blame, not me,” she hisses, and her fists tighten at her sides.
“Yes. He was the only one to blame. You did nothing wrong.” Sadly, it is a natural thing to blame yourself when these things happen at first, and it takes time to realise it wasn’t your fault.
“I don’t even know his name. His face—I will never forget it. I went down a destructive path afterwards. I started sleeping out on the streets and drinking too much, and the behaviour continued for over a year until I met an older woman who had been through it too. She was a waitress at one of the diners I used to eat at, and we became close. It was Riley who made me realise I can’t let the bastard win and ruin my life. She helped me realise I don’t need to continue to be a victim. I joined a support group for a few months with her, one with survivors of sexual assault, and it helped me a lot. It showed me I wasn’t alone. You don’t ever truly get over something like this, but you can’t let it take the rest of your life from you. I still have nightmares sometimes, the memories are still there, but I try not to let it control my life.” The tears are streaming down her face, but her strength comes across in her words.
“You are incredible, Alana. It takes strength to reach out for help, to talk about what happened to you.” I stroke her cheek. She closes her eyes, leaning into my touch, and draws in a deep breath before releasing it with a shudder.
She opens her eyes. “I will heal from it one day.”
“I hope you do, angel.” This girl deserves the world, to be happy, and have an amazing life. I want to give it to her, if she will let me, but we still have a lot to work out between us. I wipe her tears away.
“I have never told anyone about this outside of the support group and Riley. It seems I trust you in a way I haven’t trusted anyone before,” she whispers.
“You can trust me with anything. I promise.” I smile, kissing her cheek.
Alana falls quiet for a moment, staring at me, studying me closely. “Angel, what’s wrong?”
“You aren’t looking at me differently. I thought once you knew, you would,” she says, a whimper escapes her at the end, as if she was going to cry.
“No, of course not, beautiful. Nothing would ever make me look at you differently.” I slip my arms around her, lying down on the sofa and pull her to my chest, hugging her tightly. A strong protective urge takes over me. “I got you, sweetheart.”
She buries her face in my neck. I run my fingers up and down her back, as silence fills the room. I take a deep breath, preparing myself to tell her my story.
Alana lifts her head to look at me and rests her hand over my heart. “I know it isn’t easy to talk about, Ezra, but you can tell me. I’m here to listen, not judge,” she says softly. Her beautiful eyes stare into mine, and I swear when she looks at me like this, it is like she can see into my soul.
