Rachel
THE LAST FEW weeks had gone by in a blur. Finals had been easier than I’d hoped, and I’d gotten pretty decent grades in all of my classes. Blake hadn’t bothered me since that horrible weekend and Candice and I had moved into our apartment two weeks ago. She was starting cheer camp next week and couldn’t wait. I was excited for her, and for me. Because all I wanted was some time to myself. What had happened with Blake had shaken me more than I’d expected it to, and I was finding it difficult to move past it. It didn’t help that Candice still viewed him as her perfect older cousin who could do no wrong.
THE DAY AFTER Blake attacked me, I woke up late in the afternoon, and the first thing I noticed was the pain in my throat and lower body and stinging in my eyes. That morning came flooding back to me and my body instantly started shaking. Candice had been sitting at her desk, but when she heard me stir, she grabbed her drink and came to sit on my bed with me.
“Are you okay, Rach? You had a rough night last night.” Candice spoke slowly and carefully, making sure not to say anything that would set me off again.
My head shook quickly back and forth and I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her as tight as my shaky body would allow. She had no idea how thankful I was for her and her timing.
“Those guys didn’t hurt you too bad, did they, Rach? They didn’t—they didn’t . . .”
“No. Candice. No. Blake—”
“I know, Rach. Blake took such good care of you last night, he was so sweet to you.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. He took me to pick up your Jeep from Starbucks a few hours ago. It’s in the parking lot.”
“W-what?”
“Aww, Rach. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you last night. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that happened to you. I’m so thankful Blake was there for you.”
A bone-deep shudder rocked my body and I tried to pull back from her; she wasn’t understanding! “You’re not listening! Blake’s the one who attacked me!”
“Rachel! Why the hell would you say something like that?!”
“Because he did! Before you came back!”
She pushed away from my bed and faced me with a cold glare. “How dare you accuse my family of something like that! I know you had a rough night, Rachel, and I’m sorry! But you can’t just pin it on Blake. I can’t —” She huffed loudly. “I can’t believe you would do something like this. Why do you hate him so much? If you don’t want to date him, then fine, but don’t blame him for something like that. God, I feel like I don’t even know you.”
My phone rang from my desk, and she stormed across the room to go to answer it.
“Hello? Hey, Blake, yeah, she’s finally awake . . . She’s okay, still shaken up from it . . . No, you’re so sweet, but I’ll take care of her today . . . Yeah, I’m sure . . . Okay, love you too. Here she is.”
My head was shaking a no when Candice tried to hand me the phone, and she eventually just shoved it into my palm. I just stood there staring at the front of it in horror. Candice huffed and forced my hand so the phone was pressed to my ear and went to sit back at her desk.
“Y-you—”
“Took care of you,” he said, cutting me off. “I have a witness.”
“No,” I whispered, and glanced up at Candice.
“Who’s going to believe anything you say, Rachel? My own cousin and your best friend saw me taking care of you after you’d been attacked. She saw me hold you after you fainted. She watched me vow I would never let anyone touch you again as you slept. And trust me when I say, Rachel, I will never let anyone else touch what is mine. And you. Are. Mine.”
Who was this man? Where was the Blake I’d grown up with? My heartbeat felt like it stuttered and I sat there in silence as I thought through every different outcome of telling people about what had happened last night.
When I didn’t say anything for a while, Blake spoke again. “Did you just realize that I’d come out the hero no matter what?”
“Stay away from me,” I said shakily, and took a deep breath in as I tried to put some strength behind my words as I repeated them: “Stay away from me, Blake.”
I hit the
Candice snatched my phone from me and walked back to her desk. When she was seated she turned her glare on me. “You’re probably just having a freak-out because Blake was the one to take care of you after your traumatic experience.”
“You’re supposed to be my best friend! Why won’t you listen to me?”
“Because even though I love you and I hate what happened to you, you’re being a bitch by accusing Blake!”
I jerked back on the bed. Oh my God. How did she not understand any of this? I wanted to scream at her to listen to me. But I knew Blake was right; no one would believe me. Especially Candice. He was perfect in her eyes. He was perfect in everyone’s eyes. And what proof did I have? None. Nothing but horrific memories.
“Have you told Blake we’re moving into an apartment here this summer?”
“No . . .” She drew the word out and tilted her head to the side. “Why?”
“I don’t want him to know, Candice. I don’t want to see him, I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t—I just don’t want anything to do with him.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” she whispered.
“Please, just don’t! If you won’t believe me, then please just do this for me.”
She shook her head quickly and straightened her back. After a few deep breaths she opened her eyes again. “I know this is all just because you’re going through a lot. I think we should spend a minute apart. Take a Xanax, lie down, and rest. I’ll go pick up some Chinese food and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Then, after you’ve had time to relax, we’ll talk about what really happened to you, okay?” Before I could respond, she grabbed her purse and practically ran out of the room.
I SPENT THE morning and early afternoon writing to my parents at Starbucks, and though it usually left me feeling closer to them, connected somehow, today just wasn’t cutting it. It could’ve had something to do with the fact that I was pulled over by an APD officer for going thirty-nine in a thirty-five, or that Starbucks got my order way wrong. Honestly, how is an iced vanilla latte confused for an iced coffee with caramel? Or it could’ve had something to do with the sporty silver Lexus convertible that had pulled up next to my car and had me in a near panic attack in the middle of the cafe since I had a big chair next to a window with a perfect view of the parking lot. Didn’t matter that it was a woman with dark hair driving it. I’d already started my minor freak-out. There was no stopping it. Any one of those things could have made it so I didn’t enjoy writing to them, but I was in a funk now, regardless.
I shut my eyes and listened to the remainder of “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain in my car before preparing to get out. My dad used to sing that to my mom when they thought I wasn’t looking. He’d pull her close in the kitchen and dance with her slowly as he softly sang each word in her ear. My dad was sweet like that, and I remember thinking I wanted a guy just like him. A rugged-looking softy who would take the time to dance with his wife for no reason at all. He looked at her like she was the world. And I’d vowed to never settle for less. But after Daniel and Blake, I was considering becoming a nun, or a crazy cat lady like our new neighbor Mrs. Adams. Either sounded pretty perfect to me.
As soon as Edwin’s voice and the saxophone drifted off, I turned my car off, and opened my door. A short shriek burst from my chest and I tried to slam my door shut, but I already had one leg out and ended up just causing more pain and damage than I would’ve if I’d left the door alone. I pushed it back open, avoiding the motorcycle that had almost had a collision with my door, and rubbed my leg. That shit hurt.
The roar of the motorcycle stopped, and the rider whipped off his sunglasses. “Are you trying to get your door taken off?”
