Chapter 24

I drove for the longest time, into the darkness until the barest traces of light began to streak against the horizon. Somehow I ended up in Rehoboth Beach. I wasn’t sure why. There were no ties, no memories to lure me. In fact, it was a place I’d never been.

Maybe I simply needed to be away, where no one knew anything about me.

The rain had dwindled into a mist when I pulled into a gas station to fill my empty tank. The purse I’d snagged had fortunately contained my wallet, and the iPad Air that Killian had given me for Christmas.

What it didn’t contain was my cellphone. I’d left it charging on the bedside table next to our bed. The thought gave me pause, realizing it wasn’t my bed anymore.

My weary body begged me to rest. So did my heart. The moment I pulled out of the station, I searched for a place to stay.

I ended up renting a small suite at a nearby bed-and-breakfast, only a few yards from the beach. The elderly woman who ran it was kind and offered me a hot meal. I ate very little, each bite making me feel ill. I finally gave up trying to fill my empty stomach and quietly retreated upstairs.

I sent Lety and Evie an email, letting them know I was okay, but that I needed time alone. Then I crawled into bed and slept. When I woke, the small room was shadowed in darkness and several texts were waiting for me on my iPad.

Most were from Evie, Lety, and Teo, asking me to call them, urging me to return. But I had no place to return to. My mother’s place had never been a real home. It was merely walls and windows filled with not-so-great memories, times I’d sooner forget.

Lety was at college, finishing her senior year with Brody. She needed to enjoy these last few weeks. I wouldn’t take her time. Teo and Evie…I couldn’t bother them. Not now.

My fingers scrolled down the smooth screen. The texts from Killian were few and brief. But they were the ones that hurt and affected me the most.

I’m sorry.

Where are you?

Please come home.

“It’s not my home anymore,” I said out loud. Maybe it never really was.

I spent the next few days barely eating, sometimes sleeping, but mostly trying not to think. But my thoughts came anyway. There was no escape.

On my fifth day, I abandoned the room and took a walk on the beach to watch the sunset. The cold breeze fluttered my inky curls around me and dried my light green eyes, making them water.

I burrowed deep into the sweatshirt I’d purchased on the only other day I’d ventured out. As I sat on the cold sand and huddled from the cold, I tried my best not to think about Killian, or how his arms had always kept me warm.

He was supposed to be different, I repeated in my head. He was my Killian after all. Instead he’d pitied me. Despite my growth, my accomplishments, my newfound strength, I remained “Poor Sofia” to the one person I had hoped to be more for.

Poor Sofia, her family has no money.

Poor Sofia, her father beats her.

Poor Sofia, she was raped.

Tears dribbled down my cheeks. The one memory I’d worked the most to push away poked at me as I dug my heels into the gritty sand. I hadn’t sorted through the actual event in years. But I did then, now that I knew Killian’s role.

It was warm that day. I felt the difference in temperature as I rushed down the steps of Saint Therese Catholic High School, catching a glimpse of Lety as she bolted down the street. She was late to her after-school job at the supermarket and was running for all she was worth.

I smiled, knowing that although I wouldn’t see her until much later, Killian would be waiting so we could walk home together. South Catholic, our brother school, always dismissed around the same time. Sister Mary Clarice had asked to see me after class with the hope that I’d help out at the homeless shelter that Saturday. I’d agreed. My father was out of prison then, and I needed an excuse to be out of the house.

Except, as I caught sight of Killian and the swarm of girls surrounding him, my excited steps slowed to a stop. His sparkling blue eyes met mine when he looked up. “Hey, Sofia.”

“Hi, Killian,” I answered him softly. I thought about how deep his voice was becoming, and how his muscles had begun to strain against the white dress shirt that was part of his uniform.

The thing was, I wasn’t the only girl noticing how kind puberty had been to Killian.

Josefina Miller clung to his arm. “Want to go to my house?” she asked him. “My parents won’t be home for a while.”

The girls around them giggled and exchanged knowing glances. At sixteen, Josefina already had quite the rep. Everyone there—including Killian—knew she was asking him home for more than conversation. He leaned back on his heels, considering her, while his attention flickered toward Josefina’s generous bosom.

He swallowed hard and adjusted the strap of his heavy backpack against his shoulder. “I’m supposed to walk Sofia home.”

I hadn’t paid attention to his words then, and neither had Josefina. She smiled playfully. “Sofia’s a big girl. She can walk home by herself. Can’t you, Sofia?”

The other girls turned their attention on me, waiting impatiently for me to respond. I didn’t want Killian to go home with Josefina. I didn’t want her to touch him. But Killian’s expression told me that he very much wanted to be touched by Josefina.

My hands clutched my copybook against my small chest, praying he’d choose to walk with me instead of taking Josefina up on her offer. Except that he was sixteen, too, and sixteen-year-old boys didn’t think like fourteen-year-old girls who were expected to become nuns. Killian wanted to be wanted. I’d heard his older brothers teasing him, telling him it was time that he got laid—insisting he needed his cherry popped. The smile he returned Josefina’s way told me he agreed with his brothers, so did the way he nudged her with his hip.

It was a losing battle. I knew it.

So I walked away.

I’d only taken a few steps when Killian called to me. “Sofia—wait!”

I whirled around, hard enough to whip my long hair behind me, smiling widely and yet certain he’d changed his mind. Killian cocked his head to the side, pausing as if seeing me for the first time.

His lips parted more the longer he watched me. As insecure and awkward as I was then, I realized what was happening. Killian had noticed me—not like the little girl he used to play cars with, and not like his friend’s little sister, but as the young woman I was becoming.

My smile widened. Killian O’Brien had finally noticed me.

Josefina’s jaw popped open. She realized the change in him, too. Her hold on his arm tightened and so did her claim over him. She whispered something that I couldn’t hear, and that made Killian’s eyes bulge. He glanced at me, then back at Josefina, appearing conflicted.

I couldn’t understand his struggle, and I wanted him to make the right choice. Josefina, as flirty and inappropriate as she was, wasn’t the right choice. Couldn’t he see that?

“D-did you want something, Killian?” My desperation to keep his attention made me stammer.

He bowed his head, giving Josefina another chance to whisper in his ear and sweeten her offer. As Killian slowly raised his head and glanced my way, I realized that the boy I’d known and adored was lost to me.

It took all I had not to bolt. Instead I carefully turned around, not wanting the other girls to see my heart breaking. Not wanting them to realize how hard the rejection stung. Not wanting them to know how much I loved Killian, even then.

I was almost to the end of the street when Killian called to me one last time. “Sofia…I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

But he wouldn’t. No one would see me for a long time. Because I walked home by myself and met a cute boy with dark hair, a dashing smile, and crystal eyes that seemed to see right through me.

He picked up my copybook when I dropped it as I fumbled through my pack trying to find my umbrella. He seemed to appear out of nowhere. He seemed so sweet and kind. He called me pretty and clung to every word that came out of my mouth as I gave him directions to Fish Town. In the twenty minutes we talked on the street, under my umbrella, beneath the pouring rain, he made me feel like I mattered.

So when he invited me into the restaurant across the street, I went. When he paid for our meal and told me he couldn’t wait to see me again, I believed him. And when he offered to drive me the rest of the way home, I agreed. If Killian didn’t want me, it was nice to know that maybe someone else would.

The cute boy opened the door to his shiny red Ferrari and held my books as I slipped inside. He let me pick the music on his sound system. He made me laugh. He made me trust him.

And then he drove me to a park and raped me.

His dashing smile remained as he drove us back to where he’d found me, even as he told me that if I hadn’t wanted it, I shouldn’t have left with him—that good girls didn’t talk to strangers or climb into their cars. He insisted that I only had myself to blame—and that no one would believe me if I told.

Despite my tears, despite the blood soaking through my underwear, despite the pain I swore would never go away, his dashing smile remained.

The sun finished setting across the horizon. I stood, brushing the sand off my jeans as fresh tears began to fall. My arms curled around my body as I made my way back to the bed-and-breakfast.

Killian may have blamed himself for what happened to me. But I didn’t blame him. The only one at fault was the man who raped me.

No, I didn’t blame Killian. But I did blame myself for loving him.