I’m lost.
I’m falling.
“Zoe.”
Hands on my skin. Fingers on my cheeks. I know this voice. This time it’s not my own.
“Hey, Pixie, wake up.”
He sounds worried and afraid. A bit like I feel.
“You have to wake up.”
Jase’s voice pulls me out of my dream. I open my eyes, blinking against the light. I cry. My mouth is dry, and my throat is closed. I can breathe, but it feels wrong, too hard. It comes out as a gasp.
But I can breathe.
I. Can. Breathe.
“Hey.” His voice softens, and he takes his hands away to give me space. My vision clears. Jase is sitting next to me, still sleepy, with dark circles under his eyes and messy hair. He’s pale.
“That was just a dream,” he says firmly.
I nod. Just a dream. Shaking, I straighten up. I feel sick. When was the last time I ate? I have no idea. I don’t care. But I notice that I’m desperately thirsty.
“Could you please get me a glass of water?” I ask, because I doubt my legs will carry me anywhere. As weak as I feel, I certainly won’t make it out of bed.
God, I’m so weak.
I hate this.
All of this.
I barely notice that Jase gets up and disappears. A moment later, he comes back and hands me a glass. I drink, and my stomach objects. I really should eat something. But I have absolutely no appetite.
Jase stops in front of my bed, and I know why he’s holding himself back, but I don’t want him to. I want him to be with me and hold me. So I reach out my hand to him, and he sits down next to me without hesitation. I sigh as I snuggle up to his warm body. My pulse slows. Everything feels calmer. He gently wraps both arms around me. I can feel his heart beating against my back.
“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly after a while. I have no idea how much time has passed.
“Tired.” I close my eyes. “And empty. I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t need to know that yet.” But we both realize that’s not true.
“I need to talk to the police.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he replies firmly. “If you don’t want to go to the police, that’s your business. It’s your life. And it’s your decision.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and only now, when he says it, do I realize how much I needed to hear it. It’s my decision, and I love him so much for saying it. But I know better.
Reed raped me. I heard what he said. I know what he did, what Charlotte did. I can’t ignore that. I have to do something. He has to pay for it.
I want him to pay for it.
I want them both to pay.
* * *
I stay under the shower until I’m red as a lobster. The water is too hot, but I don’t care. When I turn it off and step out, I feel a little better. A little more like myself. And above all, clean.
