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“Shit,” Oak mutters, following me inside. He gathers my hair off my shoulders and rubs my back. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I’ll get her some water,” Fiona says, leaving us alone.
When I’ve emptied the contents of my stomach, I pull the flush and sag into Oak’s waiting arms.
“Did he—”
“No. You got there just in time.”
Oh God.
Dale was going to rape me, he was going to—
“Hey, hey, you’re safe now.” Oak pulls me closer. “He’ll pay, Sis. You know Dad won’t let him get away with this.”
“I need to get out of these clothes.” I start tearing at my rugby shirt, panic flooding me.
“Shit, Liv. Wait, let me help.” Oak helps me to my feet and carefully strips the soiled clothes from my body.
“Can you manage?” he asks, motioning to the shower.
I nod, too weary to reply.
“If you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door, okay?”
“I’m fine.” I wrap my arms around myself, feeling vulnerable. Oak’s jaw clenches as he hesitates.
“Liv—”
“Just go, Oak. I can manage.”
He leaves but doesn’t look happy about it. The second the door closes behind him, I strip out of my underwear, stumble into the shower and turn on the water, barely noticing the temperature.
I’m numb. Hardly able to believe what happened. What almost happened.
As I press my palms flat against the tiles, the first tear falls, and another, until I’m sobbing into the stream of water, purging the fear and shame and embarrassment. But the more the tears fall, the worse I feel.
A loud knock at the door startles me.
“Liv, you good in there?”
It’s Oak.
Relief pours into me as I turn the shower off and step out, grabbing my big fluffy robe and pulling it over me.
“I’m coming,” I reply, refusing to look at myself in the mirror.
When I step out of the bathroom, Oak pales at the sight of me.
“That bad, huh?”
His fist clenches at his side. “Dad wants to talk to you, but I told him—”
“Oakley.” I move closer. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
If I keep saying it, maybe it’ll stick.
Maybe he’ll believe it.
