He shakes his head incredulously. "Damn it Rory! 'Pushed you around a little'? That's abuse! That's fuckin' assault! Fuck!" He drops his face into his hands and catches his breath, and when he meets my gaze again, he's intently serious. "Forbes raped you in the locker room at school? Yesterday?"
I nod. Cam's the first one to use theRword besides my father, and my father was using it to condemnme. Somehow, giving it a name, calling it rape, makes it that much more real. With every word, Cam just keeps stripping away all of the gray I've been living in for so long, that I've been clinging to so desperately, and as he shines a spotlight on the black and white, I try not to drown in shame.
"I messed up, Cam," I murmur despondently. "I waited 'til right before we were supposed to leave for Gainesville to tell him I didn't wanna go. He came to pick me up at school after the basketball game, and I told him. I said I needed space, and I thought he took it okay. I was worried he'd be angry, but... he just seemed real sad."
Camshakily lifts his hand, gently brushing his fingers over the preserved mold of Robin's teeth on the cleavage of my right breast. For the first time I can remember, I can't read his expression. "It doesn't look like he took it okay."
"No. He didn't. He followed me into the girls locker room. I didn't hear him comin'." I swallow anxiously as the events of the previous evening assault my memory. There's no way to sugar coat this. "He, uh... pushed me up against the wall. And, you know, like I said, he did it again. He was tryin' to make a point - that I couldn't end it. That I was his, that I didn't have a say."
"He coulda killed you, Ror." Cam's torment torments me in turn, and I'm rendered powerless all over again.
"He didn't."
Cam grazes his knuckles along my neck, his touch as tentative as his words. "He ever do that before? Put his hands on your throat?"
I shake my head adamantly. "Never. Like I said, he was makin' a point. I know it. He had his hand over my mouth at first, because, you know, I was screamin'. But it was covering my nose,too,and I couldn't breathe. I don't think he meant to cut off my air at first, but then when he realized..." I pause,my fingers involuntarily shooting up to my throat. "He, uh... he made me say I belonged to him, and then... then he choked me." I don't describe the maniacal look in Robin’s eyes as he watched the terror in mine with sickening satisfaction, or the fact that I'm not sureheeven knew if he was going to let go or not.
I don't know why I'm explaining any of this to Cam. Lord knows I don't want to pour any more gasoline on his already all-consuming fury. But the truth is I'm still scared. Because Robin wasn't just trying to make a point. He made it quite effectively. He can take my life into his hands whenever he chooses. And I know I need to figure out some course of action, but I'm not sure what. Obviously breaking up with him didn't work, and I'm not sure how to stop him.
"You musta been so damn scared," Cam breathes.
If my tears ever fully stopped, theyreturnnow with a vengeance. "I couldn't breathe," I admit. Cam already knows that, of course. The mark on my neck isn't subtle. It's a dark, telling contusion that spans nearly the entire circumference of my throat. It speaks of malice - of intent. The thought reminds me how vulnerable I really am.
Rationally I know I should stop talking, stop detailing the horror of it all, but for some reason, unloading my pain to my best friend gives me a small slice of relief, and I'm desperate for it.
Cam leans in slowly and I don't move. I think he's going to kiss me again, but his lips aim lower, and he brushes them ever so gently over the skin of my neck, as if he can kiss it and make it better. And, even if only slightly, it does.
"God,it kills me how you talk about bein' pushed around,about screamin' for help, about bein' fuckin'rapedso damn matter-of-factly. Like it's just a normal part of life." He shoves his fingers harshly through his hair. "Fuck, and it was for you, wasn't it? You know that ain't how it's supposed to be, right? It's not normal-what he did. That's not what havin' a boyfriend is supposed to be. You should never have to know that shit, Ror,not for a minute!Jesus, I'm so damn sorry. You'll never know how fuckin' much."
I hesitate. Logically I know he's right. That ours wasn't a normal relationship. But Robin was my first date, my first kiss, my only romantic encounters, and I wonder if I'll ever really know which parts were normal and which were just more symptoms of his abuse. "That shit", as Cam calls it, is all I know. But the bottom line is, none of it is Cam's fault.
I reach up to caress his devastated face, to offer him comfort. "I know you won't listen to me, Cam, but I mean it, this just wasn't your fault. Not even a moment of it was your fault." He doesn't listen. His features are still shrouded in guilt as he looks down in shame. "You even told me to say 'no' when he asked me out, remember?"
But he doesn't respond. He doesn't even hear me.
It's only then that I realize when I reached out to touch him, the movement caused my sweatpants to ride down just a bit. Cam is glaring at the small piece of medical tape peeking out from my waistband. This time he doesn't ask for permission, silently or otherwise. He gently grasps the cotton and slides it down, just an little. He swallows nervously when he sees the bandage, and realizes it just keeps going and going. When he reveals my panty line, he finally meets my gaze.
He says nothing as he gently slides his fingers over to my left hip, and pulls my waistband down so that my sweatpants still cover the most intimate part of me, but expose my whole hip.
It wasn't long ago that Cam was kissing me, and it was the best kiss of my life. It was the bestanythingof my life, and I wanted more. Now I sit topless in front of him, my pants pushed down, my hip bare, and I wonder if for him, our kiss is long forgotten. I can't believe he can see me that way anymore. Certainly not right now. And the irony is that his kiss was the only thing that made me forget all about Robin and what he did to me, the only thing that distracted me from my pain.
"Cam..." I whisper, but he doesn't respond.
He carefully peels back the tape and removes the bandage.
He swallows his gasp.
I look down and see that my cut is already starting to heal. Cam grazes his finger gently down my hip, alongside the cut, careful not to touch it.
"What the fuck..." His voice is a stunned whisper, his eyes glued to my hip as if he can change what he's seeing if he stares hard enough. I know he's trying to temper back any major reaction, but the clench of his jaw, and the wetness in his eyes give him away.
A full minute passes before he meets my gaze again. I don't speak. I wait. I don't know what's left to say.
"He use a knife on you, Rory?" Cam asks hoarsely.
"No."
"God, Rory!" He jumps up and starts pacing again. I hurriedly grab the gauze and replace it on top of my injury, knowing as long as it's visible, Cam will never let it go.
