Page 142
Story: All I Have Left
Through the tears and sharp intakes of breath, I squint intothe darkness around him, his terrified eyes on mine. “Grayson, I don’t know what you want me to say. We can’t heal like this.”
Grayson blows out a breath and tilts his head back in frustration. “Tell me what he did?”
We’re back to that. For weeks, Grayson’s been asking this question. We’ve argued about it since our last therapy session when he told the therapist that he needed to know what happened. Fumbling through how to deal with any of this, I refused to go into detail. Until now. Until he’s pushed enough that fine, fuck it, he can have all the gory fucking details if he wants them. “I’m so sick of this shit. Fine, you want to know? Here it is,” I shout back at him. I’m pissed at him, at Shane, at Paul—the entire damn world at this point for swallowing my happy ever after and refusing to give it back. “What do you want to know? That they held me down and Shane raped me while you begged him to stop? Or what about the part when you begged Shane to just get it over with and kill you? Oh, wait, no, you probably want to know that I had to drag your body toward your truck to find something to stop the bleeding but I couldn’t get you into the truck. So I ran up the street, completely naked to flag down a truck driver who kindly gave me his shirt. And then you died. I watched your heart stop beating and begged God that if he gave you back yours, he could have me.”
Grayson’s eyebrows pulled together, his eyes angling from mine to the ground. His shoulders roll forward.
“Do you want to know that while you were in surgery, I lay on a table, naked, while a doctor photographed my entire body and stuck swabs in my vagina? Or do you want to know about the antibiotics I needed or that I had to take a pill so that I didn’t get pregnant? ’Cause by the look on your face right now, the anger shaking through you, you didn’t want to hear about any of that. So leave it alone. Let me heal. Let yourself heal and stop hanging onto the shit we can’t change.”
He says nothing. Not a goddamn word as he stares out at the parking lot for a few moments, his eyes rimmed with tears.Furiously, he brings his hand up to his head, his palm flat against his temple. “You want me to fucking forget and move on?” His eyes narrow, and I hate the agony and despair in them. “It doesn’t work like that,” he growls, his knuckles whitening as he pulls at his hair. “I can’t fucking forget this bullshit because it’s all that’s in there! Him raping you. Over andoveragain. That’s what I see when I close my eyes.”
Humiliated, I stand there, frozen, unprepared for his anger to immobilize me. I swallow and a sigh leaving my trembling lips. “You said you didn’t remember what happened.”
“I lied.” He shrugs and when he speaks, his voice is chillingly cruel. “Probably won’t be the last time either.”
Our eyes hold and I process his words. Blinded by tears, I draw in a careful breath. “I think it’s time we take a break before we say something we’re going to regret. I’m going to go back in there and support my friend and my brother on their day. When it’s over, we’ll go back to the house and I think it’s best we take a break.”
Carefully, with my heart lodged in my throat and tears rolling down my cheeks, I turn on my heel, wobbly-legged, and leave him sitting on the tailgate. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, sometimes you have to show that you will stand up for yourself.
64
GRAYSON
Well, I certainly fucked that up, didn’t I? But you know what, it needed to happen. That argument has been festering since I left the hospital and we both knew it. It doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen and know all that shit she told me.
I want to leave, to drive away, drink, get drunk, fuck something up, but I can’t.
For two hours, I lie in the back of my dad’s truck and stare up at the sky, on the verge of tears. People come and go, leave, the music beginning to fade with the night. But I remain unfazed by it all, lost in a hell I don’t understand. I can’t take any more of this bullshit.
At some point, my dad finds me. “Get up,” he snaps.
“Just fucking leave me alone, Jesus Christ,” I sigh, bringing my hands to my hair and pulling my knees up, trying to will these brutal images and reactions from my mind. “Why is everyone so goddamn relentless?”
He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t look amused with me either. “Because we love you,” he states simply, casually leaning into the tailgate of his truck. “And you’re in the back of my truck sounless you want me to drive home with you in it, get the fuck out.”
Sitting up, I stare at him. I can’t bring myself to say anything.
His eyes find mine as he looks over his shoulder at me. “Tell me something.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Boy, knock it off,” he growls. “You’re acting like an asshole.”
“Fine, what?”
He points to the bar in the distance. “That girl, she never left your side. Forty-two days and she stayed with you every single night until you were asleep. And for the last three months, she’s taken care of you while you treated her like shit. If Evie was the one in your position, would you let her give up?”
That gets my attention, and I think about it for a second longer than I want to. “I wouldn’t,” I mumble, tears hitting me out of nowhere. I’ve thought about what I would have done if Evie had been hurt like I was. And every time I come back to one thought. She’s my world. It begins and ends with her. So no, I wouldn’t let her give up.
That’s when it hits me. She deserves to have someone be there for her and give her love without treating her like shit in the process.
The reality slams into me. Hell, it takes my goddamn breath from me when I think about what she said.
Maybe we should just take a break.
I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose my girl.
65
Grayson blows out a breath and tilts his head back in frustration. “Tell me what he did?”
We’re back to that. For weeks, Grayson’s been asking this question. We’ve argued about it since our last therapy session when he told the therapist that he needed to know what happened. Fumbling through how to deal with any of this, I refused to go into detail. Until now. Until he’s pushed enough that fine, fuck it, he can have all the gory fucking details if he wants them. “I’m so sick of this shit. Fine, you want to know? Here it is,” I shout back at him. I’m pissed at him, at Shane, at Paul—the entire damn world at this point for swallowing my happy ever after and refusing to give it back. “What do you want to know? That they held me down and Shane raped me while you begged him to stop? Or what about the part when you begged Shane to just get it over with and kill you? Oh, wait, no, you probably want to know that I had to drag your body toward your truck to find something to stop the bleeding but I couldn’t get you into the truck. So I ran up the street, completely naked to flag down a truck driver who kindly gave me his shirt. And then you died. I watched your heart stop beating and begged God that if he gave you back yours, he could have me.”
Grayson’s eyebrows pulled together, his eyes angling from mine to the ground. His shoulders roll forward.
“Do you want to know that while you were in surgery, I lay on a table, naked, while a doctor photographed my entire body and stuck swabs in my vagina? Or do you want to know about the antibiotics I needed or that I had to take a pill so that I didn’t get pregnant? ’Cause by the look on your face right now, the anger shaking through you, you didn’t want to hear about any of that. So leave it alone. Let me heal. Let yourself heal and stop hanging onto the shit we can’t change.”
He says nothing. Not a goddamn word as he stares out at the parking lot for a few moments, his eyes rimmed with tears.Furiously, he brings his hand up to his head, his palm flat against his temple. “You want me to fucking forget and move on?” His eyes narrow, and I hate the agony and despair in them. “It doesn’t work like that,” he growls, his knuckles whitening as he pulls at his hair. “I can’t fucking forget this bullshit because it’s all that’s in there! Him raping you. Over andoveragain. That’s what I see when I close my eyes.”
Humiliated, I stand there, frozen, unprepared for his anger to immobilize me. I swallow and a sigh leaving my trembling lips. “You said you didn’t remember what happened.”
“I lied.” He shrugs and when he speaks, his voice is chillingly cruel. “Probably won’t be the last time either.”
Our eyes hold and I process his words. Blinded by tears, I draw in a careful breath. “I think it’s time we take a break before we say something we’re going to regret. I’m going to go back in there and support my friend and my brother on their day. When it’s over, we’ll go back to the house and I think it’s best we take a break.”
Carefully, with my heart lodged in my throat and tears rolling down my cheeks, I turn on my heel, wobbly-legged, and leave him sitting on the tailgate. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, sometimes you have to show that you will stand up for yourself.
64
GRAYSON
Well, I certainly fucked that up, didn’t I? But you know what, it needed to happen. That argument has been festering since I left the hospital and we both knew it. It doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen and know all that shit she told me.
I want to leave, to drive away, drink, get drunk, fuck something up, but I can’t.
For two hours, I lie in the back of my dad’s truck and stare up at the sky, on the verge of tears. People come and go, leave, the music beginning to fade with the night. But I remain unfazed by it all, lost in a hell I don’t understand. I can’t take any more of this bullshit.
At some point, my dad finds me. “Get up,” he snaps.
“Just fucking leave me alone, Jesus Christ,” I sigh, bringing my hands to my hair and pulling my knees up, trying to will these brutal images and reactions from my mind. “Why is everyone so goddamn relentless?”
He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t look amused with me either. “Because we love you,” he states simply, casually leaning into the tailgate of his truck. “And you’re in the back of my truck sounless you want me to drive home with you in it, get the fuck out.”
Sitting up, I stare at him. I can’t bring myself to say anything.
His eyes find mine as he looks over his shoulder at me. “Tell me something.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Boy, knock it off,” he growls. “You’re acting like an asshole.”
“Fine, what?”
He points to the bar in the distance. “That girl, she never left your side. Forty-two days and she stayed with you every single night until you were asleep. And for the last three months, she’s taken care of you while you treated her like shit. If Evie was the one in your position, would you let her give up?”
That gets my attention, and I think about it for a second longer than I want to. “I wouldn’t,” I mumble, tears hitting me out of nowhere. I’ve thought about what I would have done if Evie had been hurt like I was. And every time I come back to one thought. She’s my world. It begins and ends with her. So no, I wouldn’t let her give up.
That’s when it hits me. She deserves to have someone be there for her and give her love without treating her like shit in the process.
The reality slams into me. Hell, it takes my goddamn breath from me when I think about what she said.
Maybe we should just take a break.
I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose my girl.
65
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