He looks like he wants to argue. Like he wants to fight me on it.
I don’t give him the chance.
I turn and lock myself in the bathroom.
I need a hot shower. I need to feel clean.
An hour later, I step out wrapped in steam and exhaustion…and, somehow, I still feel filthy.
Whatever happened to me didn’t wash away.
I don’t bother checking the locks. I know Tank wouldn’t leave without making sure I’m safe. I swallow the sleeping pills Patch gave me and crawl into bed.
Sleep comes.
Rest does not.
The nightmares pull me backward first.
The hole. Los Fantasmas. The sounds of my friends dying.
Then the dream shifts.
I’m on a bed. A man looms over me. His smile is wrong…twisted. I shake my head as he unbuttons his pants. I try to scream. The sound doesn’t come. Pain blooms as something sharp nicks my skin.
I beg him to stop. He doesn’t.
I wake up gasping, my body soaked in sweat, tears streaking down my face.
But this time… something is different.
This time, clarity settles in my chest like a truth I can’t outrun anymore.
I didn’t consent.
I look toward the corner of the room. He’s there. Rigid. Furious.
Finally…finally…I let myself say the words I’ve been fighting.
“I was raped,” I whisper into the dark.
“I know, baby,” The darkness whispers back.
I don’t reach for him. I don’t ask him to come closer.
I just let his presence steady me.
I’m not ready to let his sudden change of heart rewrite where we stand. I’m not ready to forgive, or hope, or believe in anything beyond survival.
But tonight?
Tonight, I’ll let him be here.
I’ll let his nearness keep the darkness at bay long enough for me to sleep again.
Just for tonight.
…
