She sinks into her seat.
I wish I could carry this weight for her, but I can’t. It’s hers alone—just as it’s always been. The helplessness of seeing my Dove in pain, unable to do a damn thing about it, cleaves my heart.
“Cade was my boyfriend.” She sets her coffee mug down with a small thud. “Ah…we started dating when I was sixteen. He’s a year older than me. Landon is…ah….” She gives me a quizzical look, like she’s surprised with herself for not being able to remember.
“Seven years older than me,” I supply.
She tips her head in agreement. “So…we didn’t hang out with him or anything. I spent time with Cade at his place, and he came to mine. Then…ah…there was a barbecue and then Cade had to go somewhere with his father.” She pushes her hair back from her face. “So I was alone at his place.”
“How old were you?” Marnie asks, her pen scratching away on her notepad.
Sarah licks her lips. “Nineteen.”
“Then what happened?” Marnie coaxes.
I feel like an asshole sitting here listening to my woman crack her soul open. I could’ve stopped all this if I’d just….
Can’t keep regretting what you should’ve or could’ve done, Cade. All you have is now. Make it count.
Sarah looks at her coffee. It’s lukewarm now. I go about getting her a fresh refill.
Once I’m back by her side and both Marnie and she have steaming cups, Sarah continues, “Landon came into Cade’s room.”
She looks toward the side of the house where that room once was, but no longer exists, having been gutted to become part of a larger bathroom and closet.
“He had a bottle of Vodka with him. He asked if I wanted a drink.” She closes her eyes for a moment and picks up her cup. “I…Landon was cool. You know, going to an Ivy League. He wasn’t like all of us. And he’s…was…is…Cade’s brother.Iwanted to be cool, too. So, I said yes.”
She takes a sip of coffee.
There’s pin-drop silence in the house except for the soft noises of the fridge and plumbing. “I didn’t like it. So, after a sip, I didn’t drink more. He asked what I was doing. I told him I was working on college applications. I…took a year between high school and college to work with my father and….” She shrugs. “Anyway. He talked about being a vet and then asked me to drink more. I took a small sip ‘cause…I don’t know, it’d be rude not to? Then…suddenly he’s getting closer and closer to me in bed. I don’t like it. I try to get up.” She stills and looks at me. “I hate talking about this.”
“I know.”
“I hate it, and if I do this, I may have to talk about it again and again.”
There’s fear in her eyes, and it guts me.
“Then you talk about it again and again,” I say mildly. “I’ll be there with you every time. Baby, each time you face your monster, he has less power over you. Each time you tell your story, share it with others, you lighten your load.”
Marnie doesn’t say a word. She just waits, patient as stone.
This isn’t her first rodeo. She’s interviewed plenty of survivors before, and she knows the truth can’t be forced out. You have to give someone the space to find their own strength. And Sarah…she’s strong, no doubt about that. But what was done to her—it was a violation so brutal it would’ve broken the strongest of souls.
“Then…he pushed me onto the bed and laid on top of me. I started to panic. He had alcohol on his breath. I pushed at him. He laughed.” She’s talking fast now, like she can’t wait to get it all out. “I told him to stop, and he said that I wanted this. He said he saw how I watched him. That I thought he was hot. I tried to scream, but he kissed me. It was…not a good kiss. I…it was…not nice.” Tears start to stream down her face. “I wore a dress that day to the barbecue, because I wanted to look nice for Cade. He pushed it up, and…he was so strong.” Her eyes are glazed with pain, and she’s somewhere else, caught up in a nightmare. I hold both her hands in mine. They’re cold, and I try to warm them. Ease her.
“Then he was inside me. Hurting me. It hurt. He was not like Cade. He was not gentle. He was rough, and his breath was awful. And he was saying these things that I liked it, that I wanted his…cock. And I tried to scream, but he put a hand on my mouth. I couldn’t…I couldn’t do a thing.”
She breathes hard, like she’s just run a mile without stopping.
My heart pounds with a sick rhythm.
This is horrible. Terrible. And it’s the first time I’m hearing her story in full, which makes it obscene—makes me the worst man I know. I should’ve asked her back then. I should’ve listened. But would I have believed her?
Shame burns through me because I know the answer. No. I wouldn’t have let myself believe her. I’d have clung to the lie that family is everything.
“It all happened so fast,” she says it like it still befuddles her. “So, so fast. One minute we’re drinking, the other he’s inside me, and then he’s done.” She lets out a harsh laugh. “He had a condom on. I don’t even know when he put it on.”
“He’s known to wear it in advance,” Marnie fills in softly.
