Page 123 of Serpent & Saviors

I frowned. “You have rules?”

“Yeah, we’ll save those for another day. It’s to clean your face.”

I was still staring at the bottle. “What?”

Ivan grinned. “Vodka takes off permanent marker. It’ll sting, though. Can’t help that. Hey you stay with your grandparents, huh?”

“Yeah, why?”

“How are they with sleepovers?”

“Sleepovers? I don’t understand?”

“Yeah, either at your place or here?”

“Told you. It’s easier to just let him.” Vanya patted my hand and rose. “I’ll get a cloth.”

A small chuckle escaped, and my heart filled with a warmth I held exclusively for her and her alone. She was one of my most ardent supporters along the way and, despite the fact that I grew while she stayed the same, it never hindered our closeness.

We’d had so many conversations about our feelings. She was one of the reasons I went into counseling. I found I had a knack for it, was good at being a sounding board. If only I’d had the educational knowledge to really help her. I didn’t allow myself to play the ‘what if’ game, but when it came to Vanya, I did, and often.

I tried my hardest to be prepared for deep conversations with her. Aside from her diary, she’d never told anyone other than me the horrible details about her rape. When she confessed, I was all of fourteen years old.

Research sent me down dark and ugly paths as I tried to find coping techniques to suggest. As hard as that research was, it provided answers to her behavior and the risky choices she made almost weekly.

I closed my eyes and imagined the last time I’d been with her. She had been growing more and more distant and out of control. Ivan had asked me to talk to her. It was shortly before she ran away. She had been sitting alone in the garden, her favorite place aside from here.

“Hey there, mind if I sit a minute with you?” I asked, seeing the tears she angrily tried to wipe away.

She nodded, and I sat with her for several long minutes. “You seem so distant lately. I won’t ask if everything is okay because it’s obviously not.”

“Please don’t get on me about Donovan. I know it was stupid. The last thing I need—”

“I wasn’t going to. I’m more worried about the alcohol use and the partying you’ve been doing.”

She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Sometimes I just need to feel something other than numbness. Then I do stupid shit and hate myself for it. I can’t break free from the cycle. No matter how hard I try.”

“It’s understandable. You’re stuck in that place, afraid to move on. Fear is keeping you captive. Every decision you make is filtered through what you experienced. You can’t escape it, so you do things, dangerous things, because you’re the one in control at that moment. You rationalize it because it makes you feel powerful. It’s a way to cope.”

“I swear I’m not a whore,” she sobbed.

“I never said you were. It doesn’t matter how many boys you’ve slept with. The problem is they don’t care about you. They’re using you and that’s what I hate. You don’t deserve pain, Vanya, you didn’t ask to be raped.”

“But I went willingly to that party. No one forced me.”

“You were twelve. And willingly going or not doesn’t change a single thing. Those guys violated you.”

“Broke me,” she sobbed. “I hate them. Hate them so much it consumes me. I want to slit their throats from ear to ear. I want to cut their dicks off and shove them down their throats. But I can’t. I don’t even know who they are.”

I held her as her tears ran their course. “I wish you’d talk to someone,” I whispered, feeling inadequate.

“I talk to you,” she managed to get out between sniffles.

“I’m not a professional, though. My ability to help is limited. I want to do more to help, as does the family. We love you so much.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves love and respect. A beautiful girl once told me that. I didn’t believe her, especially as my face was streaked with red sharpie.” I reminded her of her words to me that day long ago.