It got me clean, but it couldn’t erase the marks where he’d pawed my body, the bruise he bit into my shoulder. It didn’t take away the phantom fullness where he’d forced his cock inside me. The imprint of his fingers across my mouth. The sensation as my lungs strained for air. It didn’t stop the flashes as my mind fell apart and my body shook in a traitorous orgasm.
After drying, I shivered with cold, having to bundle inside three layers of clothing before I crept under the covers, legs bent,hugging my knees against my chest. Sobs wracked my body until my lids were red and swollen, an incessant pulse behind my eyes growing stronger and stronger, cracking my skull.
Images forced themselves into my mind, teasing me, taunting me. I turned on a light so the monsters would be trapped in the shadowy corners, but they kept intruding until I lay with my eyes open, counting the tiny flowers in the wallpaper until they blurred, the bedside lamp blending into the early morning sunrise.
A bitter voice whispered that Zane probably went straight to sleep. His conscience non-existent.
“A mistake,” he told me as I grabbed my bra and underwear, pulling them on like they contained my shredded dignity. He babbled about pink hair, sex workers, and coincidence while I fumbled into my dress, tugging down the hem with limbs shaking from adrenaline.
I fled, shoes clutched to my chest, and Maddox stopped me in the entryway. He drove me home, promising to tell Clare I’d arranged another ride so she wouldn’t worry.
Comfort is what I need, a warm hug from my mother, but every time I think of explaining what happened, my stomach pinches. My throat is already thick from crying, swelling until it hurts to swallow.
I can’t imagine forming the right words. I don’t want to see her expression crumple in distress as I take my pain and inflict it on her.
She already upset her life once to get me out of trouble and my fresh start lasted three months before falling apart. To ask her to do the same again would be cruel. I don’t want to see her face twist with anguish as I explain every sacrifice she made was fornothing.
Instead, I lie in bed, trying not to think about the night while my shattered mind replays scenes with no off button.
Zane’s towering form in the doorway. The shock when I realised it was his bedroom I’d invaded. The unrelenting fear as he attacked me.
The misery, the pain, the shame.
Then the weird pause afterwards, caught in a strange no man’s land. I lay there, too terrified to move, and he planted a row of kisses on my shoulder and stroked my hair.
An ache pulses between my legs as I recall the utter embarrassment of my body responding to his. A memory that makes the inside of my brain feel jagged and hot to the point of melting.
Even as morning creeps into midday, the prospect of telling Mum still horrifies me and what comes after that will be worse. Police. Interviews. Physical examinations. My stomach pulls into a tight fist of dread.
Beyond the discomfort of reporting, there’s another layer of reluctance.
My mother will believe me. I doubt anyone else will. Maybe not even the police.
Nobody wants their heroes besmirched, and the royals are the closest thing Tiaki has to leaders. Even if I show the bruises, describe the pain, give them times and dates and locations, people will hunt for another explanation preferable to mine.
Since coming to Tiaki, I’ve finally been back on an even keel. Flying safely under the radar, content to cruise along, enjoying time with my friend, chatting with my mentor, developing my art.
If I tell, I’ll spend the rest of the academic year in fear of retaliation. Possibly worse than the bullying I endured at my last high school.
Everyone knows Zane has the pick of any girl he wants. People will laugh at the idea he forced me.
They’ll think I’m doing it to get attention.
They’ll tear my reputation apart.
The well of despair that swallowed me last year yawns open, tempting me towards its endless depths. Each thought is worse than the last until I’m in tears again. When I reach for my phone to lose myself in mindless scrolling, it’s not under my pillow where it should be. Not in my discarded clothes or on the floor.
I can remember the weight of it in my pocket at the party and nothing after. It must still be at Zane’s house and another thing I desperately don’t want to do goes on my internal list.
One. Destroy my mother’s happiness.
Two. Contact the boy who hurt me to ask him for a favour.
I finally get up, dragging myself through another shower, pushing away the feel of phantom hands on my body, washing thoroughly between my legs like that’ll help if he has a disease.
And I add item three to the worst checklist of all time. Go to the health clinic for emergency contraception and an STD check.
What a fun Sunday playdate that will be.
