“In the restaurant with Hope, I thought I saw Ethan.” Her brain hurt. She hadn’t cried that hard in years. “Sometimes I think I see him everywhere. On the street. At work. In stores. Since I saw Adam at Bowie’s, it’s been worse. It’s like…I’m looking for them.” She swallowed painfully, her throat parched and raw.
She was desperate for a drink of water, but she had to get the story out first. The urge to do so was stronger than her thirst. It was time for Sean to know.
“Ethan—He, he was the one who—three years ago, he—” God, why was it so hard to say? “He raped me.”
“He raped you,” Sean repeated, his voice tight. Hard.
When Ivy nodded against his shirt, his growl reverberated in his chest and against her ear. As always, the sound comforted her, and she went on.
“It was my last year of college. Hope and I were roommates since the beginning, and even though we were polar opposites, we bonded over our mutual desire to excel at school. We spent our time in class, studying, or working part-time jobs to pay for everything our scholarships didn’t cover. There wasn’t time for partying. No living the college experience of most of our peers.” Ivy inhaled deeply, taking in her surroundings. The scent of Sean’s skin, warm, musky, and familiar. The sound of the gym fans buzzing overhead. The feel of Sean’s body heat enveloping her.
“One night, after midterms in the final semester, Hope was convinced we needed a typical college experience before we graduated, so she convinced me to go to a party that her business school friends were throwing at their frat house. I figured why not, so we got dressed up, which was huge for me because back then I lived in leggings.” She swallowed hard, remembering the feel of the silky skirt she’d chosen that night. The lace underwear she’d put on thinking ahead, in case she got lucky, she didn’t want to be caught in laundry-day undies.
“At the party, I met one of Hope’s business class peers, Ethan. He seemed nice and was interested in me. We danced and talked and had a couple of drinks.” They had sat on the couch for a long time talking. He’d asked so many questions about her interest in physical therapy, praised her on the scholarship she’d won to get into. He told her about himself, his family, his brothers. He’d seemed so—normal. So kind. “When he asked if I wanted to go somewhere less noisy to talk, I didn’t think much of it. I—”
And here came the shame. After time in therapy, she knew she had no reason to feel like she had done anything wrong or stupid, but still it crept through her as she admitted, “I wanted to go. I was attracted to him, and I wanted to go with him. So I went.” Willingly, she’d followed him to her doom. “I wanted to find Hope first, to let her know not to wait for me, but Ethan said she was having fun and not to bother her. I should have looked for her.”
“Not your fault,” Sean murmured and drew her in closer.
When she’d tried to talk about this in therapy sessions, she’d required lots of personal space. But here, in the middle of a fighting ring, with him, she only wanted to lean in.
“Ethan brought me into a bedroom on the second floor, and inside I saw another person, Adam, the guy who showed up in Bowie’s a few months ago. That’s—That’s when I knew.”
“Fuck.Ivy.” Sean leaned back the smallest bit and looked down at her, his brows furrowed in disbelief and anger.
Ivy nodded. “I tried to get away, but Ethan held me back. He sent Adam into the hallway to keep watch. Then he pinned me down on the bed while he—”
Years had passed, yet it still seemed so fresh. Like she’d been running a marathon, but never gaining on the finish line. Until now. Until Sean gave her a safe space and helped her to confront the thing that had held her back for far too long.
Everything about this was so different from any time she’d had to talk or think about it before, and she knew what that difference was.
With Sean, her trust fall partner, she was truly safe. She recognized now that it was a security he had cultivated slowly over time, and that the foundation he laid had been trust. And that had armed her with a strength she could have never built up in any gym.
“Hope found me before it could get any worse.”
“How much fucking worse could it get, Ivy?” Sean’s words pinched out between his clenched teeth.
“Well, Adam… He was outside. Waiting. For his turn.” This time, when she swallowed, the lump in her throat throbbed painfully. She wouldn’t have survived if Hope hadn’t arrived when she did. She was sure of it.
“I should’ve killed that motherfucker when I had the chance.”
“No. That’s not who you are.” She squeezed his hand, remembering his bloody knuckles the day after Adam had confronted her and Hope in Bowie’s.
That day she’d wanted to offer some kind of explanation for what had happened. Then she’d seen his fists, raw and swollen. And she’d known she’d never have to explain anything to Sean. He always had her back, would always take care of her. Overcome with gratitude, she couldn’t speak, so she’d lifted those bruised knuckles to her lips and kissed each one, hoping it was enough to convey her feelings.
“Anyway, Hope came in screeching and swearing and throwing anything she could get her hands on. She grabbed me and dragged me out of there, and that was it.”
Sean turned her in his arms and held her with his gaze. “But that wasn’t it, Ivy. That was only the beginning.” He smoothed her sweaty bangs away from her face before asking softly, “Did you call the police? Press charges?”
And there it was. The million-dollar question everyone asked people like her.
“No.” She tensed, preparing herself for a lecture, like the one she’d received from both Hope and Joel.
At the time, it felt like no one on the outside would understand her reasons for not telling the police or anyone who didn’t absolutely have to know. And there were only a handful of people who did know.
In recent years, media coverage about the prevalence of sexual assault had increased. And many women, from the famous to the everyday, had taken to social media to share their experiences and to show how far their voices reached. Their courage was contagious, because when one stood up, others followed, until there was a fresh wave of determined voices telling the world they weren’t going to take it anymore.
But behind those voices was the silent majority. And that was where Ivy remained firmly rooted. She’d wouldn’t press charges or call out names on social media or anywhere else. And as hard as she tried never to think about it, she did often think about the other women who might have fallen victim to Ethan or Adam because she hadn’t the guts to speak up. It sickened her, to think that her decision could have contributed to another woman’s abuse.
