“Alicia, fuck.” A grunt follows. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to—”
“Shut up, Justin.” Someone’s loud voice comes through. “Just shut up.”
I hear the commotion that follows, but I’m not here. I’m backthere. But now, instead of two scary faces, I see the face I came to love. Mark is there too. Before this evening, he has been a face of security and comfort for me, someone who wasn’t connected to that night. Now he’s in the same nightmare that’s been haunting me for years. He’s watching.
He’s watching me be humiliated and violated. And his face is emotionless. He will never look at me the same way. Never.
And I will never look at him the same way.
“Alicia, honey.” A warm voice comes through. My mom. It’s her. Her voice has been here even before I knew what her voice meant. Childhood. Safety. A gentle hand touches my shoulder. “Are you all right?” The worry in her voice snaps me back from my nightmare. “Do you want them to leave?”
I swallow a dry lump in my throat. “No, Mom.” My own voice sounds too coarse for my own ears. “Ineed to leave.” I stand from my place, ready to leave, when Mark’s voice stops me.
“Alicia.”
I turn my attention to him. “Did you know?”
He shakes his head, his misty eyes fixated on mine. “I didn’t even know you’re his sister until we came here.” He swallows, pausing. “Believe me, I didn’t.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” I whisper. “It’s broken now.”
“What’s broken?” His voice is rough. Red rims his eyes.
“This. Everything.” I sniffle loudly. “I’ll never be able to look at you without remembering… everything. You were a safe haven. But not anymore.” I dwell in palpable sorrow.
“Yeah, it’s better this way.” Justin stands from his chair, but I stop him.
“And you.” I point my finger at him. “Do not talk to me ever again. I never blamed you for that night nor will I ever, but I blame you for this. This was my chance, and you threw it out of the window.”
I march out without looking at single person.
Utter humiliation threatens to swallow me, and I’m trying to reach my bedroom so no one will see me being devoured by it.
When I open the door, a familiar smell reaches my nose, and it triggers something in my brain. A wild spirit possesses my body, and I jump to my desk and swipe everything away. Then I move to the floating shelves on the wall and swipe everything away there too. I grip the shelf with all my might and try to rip it off the wall, but it’s anchored so thoroughly, and I’m only able to rip it away just a bit.
Leaving the shelf hanging by its last breath, I move to the standing shelves. My childhood photos from “before” are thrown on the floor, but they are still looking at me, mocking me for not being able to laugh like I used to. I stomp on it. Again. And again. And again.
The door opens, and large hands pull me from behind. I hate being hugged or touched from behind, but this time, I don’t even flinch. Instead, I turn around and start punching the wide chest. I punch until my firsts start to hurt and all the fight leaves my exhausted body, and I sag against the man who’s holding me.
My sobs come in waves. At first, they move my whole body, and I feel a sense of coldness envelope me in its freezing hug. The second one releases the pent-up fear I’ve been holding onto for so long. And after, I’m a blubbering, sniffling mess.
My nose is pressed against the warmness of the body I grew to love. His smell is tingling my nose, calming my hysteria. His large hands make circles on my back as I cling to him.
I hear the door opening and closing again, but no steps follow. Someone decided to retreat.Good, I’m not up for visitors.
When I’m finally relatively calm, I relax into his arms, knowing I will neverfeelhim like this again.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw with unsaid emotions. It’s rough and full of pain.
“Me too,” I answer as I burrow deeper into his embrace.
“I love you, Alicia.” His words, raspy and heartbroken, are shredding my heart to pieces. “I will do anything to make you happy. Anything.” His arms pull me tighter. “Even if it kills me.”
I close my eyes, knowing I’ll be back at that night and hoping I won’t see his face.
But I see it.
Again, on the sideline. Quietly watching. Not participating… but watching. I furiously squeeze my eyes shut, trying to erase his face from the most painful memory of my life. But he is still there.
