12 Kimber
Rich has questions. I can feel them filling the space between us on the drive back to our cabin, and I escape into the shower after lying that I want to clean up. We’re supposed to go down to the main pool tonight. He said something about a primal game but I wasn’t really listening. My mind is elsewhere. The creeping feeling that I’m going to accidentally ruin this trip by getting lost in my memories brings my mood down. I can’t get my head on straight.
The water doesn’t do enough to erase the headache. If I use the hot spring just outside our cabin, Rich might join, and I’m not in the right headspace to play or even talk. I don’t want to get into why I’m not in the mood with him right now. We’ll end up talking about the memories Jude stirred up, which is something I never talk about, so instead I take an unnecessarily long shower and avoid the world.
Closing my eyes, I just keep seeing the picture Jude showed me. I can hear Jonah in my memory, the moments when he made me question why I was still alive. And if I wanted to be.
“I told you to listen to me!”
Holding up my hands to cover my face, I back up. It’s a stupid choice; I know I’m not supposed to let myself get backed into anything or take my eyes off someone attacking me. But he interrupted me while I was showering and I didn’t expect to see him tonight. I thought the door to my apartment was lockedand he’d have to at least wait until I knew he was here to come in.
“Jonah-”
He spun me around so I’m being backed into the bedroom, already having ripped me out of the shower. My skin is clammy and cold in the AC, and there’s still shampoo in my hair. The spot on my arm where he grabbed me is sore. If I turn and dart for the door -
My thoughts scatter as he grabs my hair, pulling me backwards. I stumble as he moves around me, reaching both of my hands up to try and grip my hair beneath his hand and relieve some of the tension when I scream.
I can’t seem to catch my footing, my wet feet unable to find purchase on the bedroom carpet. He drags me up and I follow his hand, anything to relieve the tension of Jonah trying to rip my hair out of my scalp.
When he throws me on the bed I don’t resist, whimpering as I reach back to hold my head. I rock and try to use the momentum to sit up, afraid to have him leering over me.
The slap hits me halfway to sitting up, and I fall back and scramble across the bed with a cry. He growls, and I lift my head, watching him with wild eyes as I struggle to open the side table.
He has no idea what’s there. If I can just get my hands on it -
“I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” Jonah says, tilting his head like he’s disgusted with his decision to date me. He’s undoing his belt, working the leather out of the loops on his jeans. “Yes means no, and you completely changed what you’re into. What’s the point when you don’t fucking listen?”
Outside the vivid memory someone touches my shoulder, causing me to shriek and jerk backwards. My head snaps into the wall and I wince, my eyes flying open.
I don’t really process what I’m looking at. There’s cold water hitting me on one side, and when I stare right in front of me I imagine Jonah’s big, hulking body.
I never could fight him off. Not by myself, until I took matters into my own hands.
Striking out, I go for whatever looks like it’ll hurt. Eyes, gut, knee to the groin -
“Fuck- Kim! What the hell?”
Two hands manage to grip my wrists, and they slam mine against the wall on either side of me. Panting, I glare up at him, realizing that the details are all wrong.
His hands are smaller. Normal sized because he’s not some hulking, braindead man. When I blink I recognize the violet eyes, and shame hits me. “Rich.”
He nods, and I blink a few more times as the water splashes off my arm. It’s ice cold now, and I can’t imagine how long I’ve been standing in here avoiding him. The severe look on his face softens when he realizes I’ve recognized him, and the tight grip on my wrists loosens significantly.
I’m breathing too fast, the panic edging away but not disappearing. When I study his face in the fluorescent lighting I realize that his pale skin shows a red mark across his cheek.
“Did I hit you?” I ask, hearing the tremble in my voice before the dam breaks. The tears build up, and I can’t stop them when they suddenly spill over. “Oh, I’m so sorry-”
Rich lets go of one of my wrists, tentatively holding up a hand. He keeps it low near his elbow, his eyes imploring me to listen. “Breathe for me. I’m going to just reach over and shut off the water.”
I nod, wincing as the movement worsens my headache. The memory made me forget, and cracking the back of my skull against the tile didn’t help.
He’s watching me carefully, and I absolutely hate it. His eyes trail over me like he’s looking for signs that I might break. I fear we’re already there. “You were screaming.”
I almost wish the icy water was back. My skin turns cold, colder than before at his words, and he frowns deeply as he watches my expression. “I’m sorry-”
“No,” he says immediately, shifting back. He lets go of my other wrist, and for the first time it registers that he’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt like earlier and he’s soaking wet. “Don’t do that. No apologizing for what frightens you. Just help me understand what’s happening.”
Biting my bottom lip to keep it from wobbling, I try to find the words. How does one explain this mess?
