Wondering when it will stop hurting so much.
Wondering why he kissed me like a secret, then buried me like a shame, and left me here with the pieces.
By the time I made it home, my eyes were dry, but my chest still felt scraped raw, as if someone had taken sandpaper to the inside of me. I went straight to my room and shut the door. That was rare in our house. Doors usually stayed open, air flowing, voices carrying. But I needed walls tonight.
I lay face down on my bed, my fists pressed under my pillow, holding in everything I couldn’t keep down. The tears came anyway. Quiet, ugly ones. I hated the sound of them, hated the way my shoulders shook.
A soft knock startled me. Mom’s knock. She didn’t wait long before easing the door open, her face gentle but searching. She stepped inside, closed it halfway behind her, and sat down on the edge of my bed.
Her hand found my hair, combing through it the way she used to when I was little. That was all it took. I turned toward her, burying my face in her lap, the floodgates breaking wide open. She stroked the back of my neck, waiting patiently, not asking anything until I could breathe again.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked softly.
And I told her. Everything. How I hadn’t wanted to go to that stupid party. How they’d dared us into the closet. How Dare kissed me and then acted like it ruined him. How hehadn’t spoken to me since. How it felt to lose half of myself overnight.
Mom listened, not interrupting once. Her thumb brushed tears from my cheek when I finally lifted my head.
“Did you like it?” she asked. “Kissing Dare?”
My throat tightened, but I nodded. One small, honest nod.
She pulled me into her arms and hugged me hard, as if she could squeeze the hurt out. Her voice was firm but kind when she whispered into my hair. “That’s what I thought.”
She kept holding me, rocking a little like she used to when the nightmares came. “I don’t know how this will turn out, Truen,” she murmured. “But I do know two things. I love you very much. And you’ll survive this. After the hurt, after the tears, you’ll survive. And I’ll be right there with you.”
Her certainty didn’t erase the hurt, but it soothed something inside me. I leaned into her, clinging as if she was the only anchor I had left.
After that night, I built myself a different routine. Not better, not whole, just different. I stopped cutting through the soccer field after school, stopped lingering by the bleachers to watch Dare practice. That part of my life felt like pressing on a bruise, and I couldn’t keep doing it.
Instead, I signed up for a drawing class at the community center. It was awkward at first—rows of strangers hunched over sketchpads, the smell of pencil shavings and paint—but at least my hands stayed busy. The creativity gave my mind somewhere else to go.
Sometimes I tagged along with a couple of acquaintances from art class to the arcade downtown. We weren’t close, notreally. I felt out of place most of the time, standing there with a soda while the machines buzzed and kids shouted over high scores. But even feeling like the odd one out was better than sitting at home alone, crying into my pillow.
Every laugh I managed to join in on healed another jagged shard of glass lodged in my chest. Every kind smile I received from someone who didn’t know my story dried another stubborn tear I thought I’d never stop shedding.
It wasn’t the same as being with him. Nothing ever would be. But piece by piece, moment by moment, I learned how to exist without my person.
PART TWO: THE YEARS BETWEEN
CHAPTER 7
DARE
That kiss wasn’t the end of us. It was the start of me unraveling.
The cafeteria buzzed with bodies.Too many voices talking over each other, laughter echoing off the tiled walls, the squeak of sneakers on linoleum, trays clattering. It should’ve been enough to drown out the sound of my own head.
It wasn’t.
I was aware of him before I even looked up.
Truen sat three tables away, alone, as always, picking apart his sandwich like he couldn’t remember how to eat.
His stare burned through me, prickling like ants beneath my skin.
Stop staring at me. Please! I can’t smile back. I can’t wave at you or grab my tray and sit with you like none of it matters.
My chest ached with every second his gaze stayed fixed on me, like he was asking a question I couldn’t answer.
