“Yes.” Something cracked in my chest.
Somewhere on the table, the recorder I hadn’t paid much attention to hummed.
“Beth,” someone called my name, direct, in a way that demanded my attention. So I lifted my gaze again, hoping my lies hadn’t slipped through my confidence, wishing my guilt was buried so deep in a chamber of my heart that had never once kissed the light.
“I need to ask you something very important,” Mr. Coker said. “And I need you to answer honestly.”
I nodded, my heart hammering.Honestly?
I didn’t come here with honesty. I came to play a script.
“Did Mr. McRae ever touch you in a way that made you uncomfortable?”
The room narrowed.
I thought of his hands that were always warm and gentle. The way they held me like I was something fragile, something to be protected.
“Yes,” I said, my nails digging into the fresh, jagged line across my wrist, the cut I had made this morning, feeling the zap of pain shooting up my arm.
“Can you describe when that first happened?”
My finger dug deeper until I felt the draw of blood, warm and thick. “In his classroom. After school.”
“Did you consent?”
Consent.
The word landed wrong, like a blade turned sideways.
“I didn’t say no.” I gave a light shrug.
“That’s not the same thing, Beth,” Mr. Coker said softly. “Did you want it?”
I thought of guilt, of debt. I thought of owing Rowan McRae something I could never repay.
“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t consent.”
I consented. I kissed him first. I was the one that popped open his buttons. When he asked if I was sure, I said yes. Then he asked again, and I said yes…firmly.
“Did he stop when you showed hesitation?”
“No.”
He showed hesitation. I went all in.
The burn on my wrist intensified, blood coating my nails and sliding over my skin, soaking into my arm warmer. I deserved this pain. I deserved to feel pain. I deserved nothing but…pain.
“Did he ever suggest that refusing him would have consequences?”
I hesitated. Mother’s words rang in my ears again. I must not go off script. I must not say the wrong things. I must not disappoint her again.
“He said,” I murmured, hiding the grimace in my voice at the fire licking at my skin. “that I would ruin him if anyone found out.”
Mr. Coker’s jaw tightened, anger and disappointment flashing in his eyes. He had liked Rowan. I often saw them eat lunch together. They even went to the gym together sometimes. They were friends, I supposed.
“Thank you,” Principal Rozanov concluded. “You can go now, Beth Fraser.”
The recorder clicked off, the sound of pen over paper ceasing.
