Makes me hate myself.
That version of me.
So weak in the face of someone taking advantage of me.
I feel like I just laid bare the truth that I’m someone who got so close to giving up.
Underneath years of acting like I’m better than that, like nothing can get to me, and that I’d rage before I’d ever let anyone hurt me.
But that afternoon, I broke.
Ollie furrows his brow. “What?”
I hate how scared his voice sounds.
I squeeze his hand hard, and now it feels like I’m holding onto him in hopes that he won’t disappear.
Don’t see me differently.
God, please don’t pity me.
“I wasn’t trying to end my life. I mean that, Oliver.”
“But…”
“But I didn’t know how tall the cliff was, or how rocky it would be at the bottom. I gashed the back of my head on a jutting edge nearby, saw blood spilling out around me, and passed out shortly afterward.”
“Oh my God.”
“Callum got me to the hospital and they gave me stitches. Luckily, the concussion was short-lived.”
“Niko.”
I gasp as Oliver lunges forward, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a hug.
When I feel a tiny, hot wet spot at the back of my neck, I realize he’s crying.
What?
When has anyone ever cried for me?
“Ollie, I’mfine. There’s a gnarly scar under my hair at the back, but I’m fine.”
He’s clutching me so close.
“Callum deserves to die,” he says, with the smallest, quiet intake of a sob. He grips me tight, not letting go. “I’m so glad you’re okay. What the fuck? God, what thefuck?—”
He trails off as he holds me, and my heart pounds in my chest.
I don’t know what I’m feeling.
But the way Oliver is holding me makes me feel like I’m solid,present, for the first time, while I’m thinking about the incident.
Like I exist, and his touch is proof of that.
18
Oliver
