Page 18 of X's and O's

Naked, I could see every mark Paul had put on my body. They were across my arms. My belly. My cleavage. The insides of my thighs.

I got beneath the hot water and felt every single one of them. They stung. Burned. Each one a reminder a man had wanted to rape and murder me. And he’d very nearly succeeded.

I wrapped my arms around myself and stood there, letting out all the tears because I knew this would be the only time I let myself cry. That when I stepped out of this shower, I would have to put on a brave front and pretend this had never happened.

There was no point going to the cops. I still vividly remembered them coming to talk to Toby after his attack in high school. They’d come to his hospital room when his parents weren’t there and when he was half doped up on painkillers.

And I’d sat uncomfortably by his bedside, sixteen years old, trying to understand why the cops were interrogating him like he was the one who’d done something wrong.

Did you come onto one of the guys? Is that why they did this?

A gay kid over in Royal Heights was beat to death when he hit on the wrong guy. When are you people going to learn?

You really should be grateful your injuries weren’t worse. Gay bashings have ended in death.

I’d told them to get out of his room, and they’d told me to watch my mouth or they’d arrest me for obstruction.

Stories like that were a dime a dozen in Saint View. We all knew unless you were a rich, white snob from Providence, who had the money to line their pockets, then the cops were never going to be on your side.

It was just the way it was when you lived on the wrong side of the tracks. And we all knew it.

I stood there until the water ran cold, and when I shut it off, I shut off the tears as well.

But that didn’t mean I was okay.

I stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel to dry off, then pulled on my favorite pair of pajamas. They were soft and well-worn, a pretty violet color Toby said he’d bought not just for my name but because the color suited me.

I wasn’t much into fashion, but I’d nodded a lot while he explained skin tone color theories and indulged his love of makeup and makeovers, just because I loved seeing the way his expression lit up when he took me shopping and we found a shirt that made my eyes pop.

But right now, I didn’t want anything new. Just my old, familiar things that brought me comfort.

I transformed my bedroom into a nest, shutting the blinds, switching on my lamps and fairy lights, and lighting candles. The small heater in the corner let out a consistent hum that helped settle my rattled nerves.

The front door slammed, and Toby’s shouted greeting jarred through me, shaking me from head to toe. He threw open my door with a tumble of words I struggled to follow.

When he finally stopped to take a breath, he cocked his head to one side, studying me. “What’s going on in here? Your aura is off.”

My aura was probably traumatized and had run off screaming for the hills. “I’m fine.”

He squinted at me. “It’s barely dark out and you’re in your pajamas. We haven’t done dinner or coffee and we haven’t watched our show.” He sat on the edge of my bed and patted the spot next to me. “Sit. Talk.”

But I couldn’t. As much as I loved Toby, the last thing I wanted to do was try to talk about anything that had happened that day. Even if I had somehow been able to put any of it into words, telling Toby would mean he was involved.

I couldn’t forget there was a dead body in a house that was covered in my fingerprints.

If the cops found it, I would be a suspect.

Toby didn’t need to be an accessory just because I desperately wanted to cry on his shoulder.

So I turned away, busying myself at the little writing desk in my room. “I’m just really tired. Maybe I’m coming down with something. I think I’m just going to go to bed early.”

He pouted at me. “So, we aren’t continuing ourGrey’s Anatomymarathon?”

I smiled at him. “You’ve already watched it seven times. You know what happens.”

He waved a finger at me. “Don’t judge me, girly-pop. You know you’re just as addicted as I am.”

He wasn’t wrong, and any other night, I would have curled up on the couch next to him and devoured a few episodes we both knew half the words to. But I couldn’ttonight. My head was a mess, and I was terrified of blurting everything out between Meredith and Cristina performing surgeries.