“Why?” I boom again. I don’t feel like myself at all; this voice isn’t mine. I don’t shout, I don’t demand. But seeing him has it all coming back. How he’d pin me down, force himself on me, tell me toshut up and stop being so fucking difficult.All the horrible things he called me, how much he took from me.
Finally, in a voice that sounds like he swallowed glass, he says, “Because I was weak and angry and terrified. I hated so much about myself, and you weresogood, Gabe. Too good for me, I couldn’t stand it. I thought if I tore you down, I wouldn’t have to see how small I was.” He exhales heavily. “It was never you. You never did a single thing to deserve any of it.”
My throat burns. For so long, I believed I was the problem. That if I’d been easier, less myself, he wouldn’t have… My mind cuts off, memories black as night trying to take hold of me again and pull me under. The scar on my cheek stings like the wound is fresh, hot blood running down my face, mixing with tears.
Kyle’s voice comes again, urgent, almost frantic. “I got sober after you left. It was hard, but I did it. Ten months now, and I’m still sober. Meetings, therapy, all of it.” His hands tremble at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching. “I know there’s no excuse for what I did but… I regret it all. Every word, every awful thing I did to you. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. That’s mine to carry. I know that.”
I stare at him, my whole body cold even as sweat trickles down my back. I should feel free. Vindicated. Instead, I feel sick. My sanctuary feels cracked wide open, polluted by his presence. It’s like there’s an oily pool of darkness flowing through my bloodstream, infecting every part of me. The apology doesn’t give me anything. The reason doesn’t give me anything. It just hollows me out.
My lips part, but nothing comes. When I finally manage, my voice is barely more than a whisper. “You shouldn’t be here.”
His face crumples, shame bending him in on himself. He nods jerkily. His hand drags across his cheek, wiping at the wetness there. “I know,” he says hoarsely. “I just—I had to tell you. Do you think… you could ever forgive me?”
“Forgive?” I whisper disbelievingly. All he ever did was take and take andtakefrom me. He stole my voice, my body, my choices. And now he wants more from me.
His brow furrows as he watches me, his gaze sliding over my face makes me feel disgusting. “I need to know why you did it…” I say weakly.
“Gabe, I already told you,” he replies sadly.
I shake my head angrily, tears falling down my face with the force. “No. It can’t be that.Imust have done something. People don’t just do things like that for no reason. People don’t just force people to—” I can’t even say it. “So, what did I do? Tell me why, what did I do to make you hurt me like that?”
My breaths are coming so fast, I’m on the verge of hyperventilating.
Kyle holds a hand to his mouth, sniffling loudly as his own tears fall. “Jesus, Gabe. I’m so fucking sorry.” His nostrils flare as he takes a large inhale. “I meant what I said, it was never you. You never did a single thing to deserve any of it. Never did a single thing wrong. It was all me.”
All the fragile parts of me that I’ve been trying so hard to keep held together are on the brink of violently collapsing.
“Leave.” The word is a heartbroken sob.
He turns toward the door, glancing at me over his shoulder, but I can’t look at him. He’s torn me apart yet again.
“You deserved so much better than I ever gave you.” I barely register him leaving, but faintly hear the door closing. The sound echoes in my bones.
Then… silence and the taste of iron in my mouth from biting my cheek too hard.
I press a shaking hand to my scar, but it doesn’t stop the burning. I dig my fingers in harder, but the pain doesn’t center me. My safe space feels like it’s been split open, and I can’t catch my breath.
It was never you.
The words should be a release. Instead, they twist me up. If it wasn’t me, then what was it all for? Every word he spat, every bruise, every night I thought I’d earned it—if it was never me, then I tore myself open for nothing.
I’ve spent so long punishing myself, living in this self-made cage, for what?
Shame threatens to devour me. I let him treat me like that for so long, and then I treated myself no better.
I run to the door and flick the lock. I tear the open sign down, and it clatters to the floor. The sound vibrates against my nerves, making my chest heave.
The air smells wrong. The usual comfort isn’t there.Taunting. Sour beer. Anger.The stink of his body pressed against mine. My body swears it’s real even when I know it can’t be.
I stumble into the aisles on unsteady legs, I try to count my breaths, regain control of myself, but the smell is burning my nostrils. It’shim. He’s on my clothes, in my hair, coating my skin.
I run up the stairs, tripping halfway and hitting my shin hard. But I don’t stop.
I make it to the bathroom, just in time to empty the contents of my breakfast into the toilet. Air is sawing in and out of my lungs by the time I’m done. When I get up to rinse my mouth and brush my teeth, I can’t look at myself in the mirror, too terrified of what will be looking back at me. Something wretched is bubbling up inside of me, a lethal, poisonous swell. I grip the vanity so hard pain shoots up my arms. I slap my palm against the top, then do it again, and again and again until I explode. My mouth opens on an anguished scream, ricocheting in the small space. It sounds like anger, frustration, shame, disgust.
It’s mourning, grief for the person I was, for the person I can never be again, for all that was taken from me.
And all that I’ve been left with.
