“Your proposition last night. I’m not stupid. You ganged up on me Monday, and now you’re planning something worse.”
“I’m sorry.” A laugh of disbelief. “What?”
I fold my arms, shrinking away from him. This was a foolish idea and of course it’s not going to work.
His right hand tightens on the back of my chair. “For the record, I never thought you were stupid. But if you think Chelsea is pulling my strings, you’re insane.”
“Whatever.”
“Why does she hate you?” Damien’s leg stretches in front of mine as he turns. With his hand still gripping my chair, the door has never looked so far away. “Tell me.”
“Her boyfriend groped me at a party over summer.”
“Ophelia! You cheating slag.”
“It wasn’t—” I shake my head, and he laughs knowingly.
“Right. So, you didn’t throw yourself at him.”
“He spiked my drink.” My volume rises with every word. “And I passed out.”
“Spiked it with what?” He sounds angry. “Drugs?”
“Alcohol. It interacted with my meds.” My voice cracks, Damien looming further into my personal space the same way Craig’s memory expands in my brain.
It’s been ages but tears still prickle my nose. I hate reawakening these old memories, feeling the same thickness in my throat, the tremors.
Bad enough Craig still fondles me in my sleep.
“He took advantage.” The statement doesn’t come anywhere near encompassing the horror. The same horror that jolts me awake from my deepest nightmares.
Before my attempt, the terrifying dreams had become constant, the sensations so real sometimes I’d wake in the morning and fancy I could see bruises. Between the flatness of my existing depression and my fractured sleep, emptying the bottle of pills down my throat felt like the only answer.
I try again, fumbling for the right words. “When I came to, his hands were under my clothes and I couldn’t…” I falter, faceburning red and raw like sunburn. “My words were all slurred. My arms were all uncoordinated. I couldn’t get him off me.”
“What a greasy inadequate little shit.” Damien’s easy acceptance loosens the muscles in my chest. “But you still let him touch you.”
“He assaulted me!”
“Bet Chelsea doesn’t see it like that.”
My lungs burn, dots in my eyes. “Well, congratulations for hanging out with a rape apologist. Good for you.”
“Did you lay a complaint?”
“And be questioned like this? No fucking thank you.”
“Yet you would’ve reported me for an accident over some glasses.” Damien huffs out a breath like he’s disappointed. “Is he still around?”
I shake my head. “He left a few months afterward.”
“Probably pushed his luck one too many times.”
“Maybe.” I hadn’t spent much time thinking about why, just thankful I wouldn’t bump into him around the corridors. “But I don’t really know. After that, we didn’t really move in the same circles.”
“So Chelsea hates you for getting date raped?”
I flinch from the word. “It didn’t get that far. When she opened the door, he stopped.”
