* * *

I opened bloodshot eyes on his, but there wasn’t much change. He still didn’t look like the boy who’d been in love with me just a little while ago.

I wanted to be angry with him for not trusting me. But my lack of memory of that night held me back. How can I be mad at him when I didn’t even know the truth myself?

All I was certain of is that I would never have done anything like that in my sound mind. I was afraid that I’d been drugged, but the greater fear was, what exactly had happened to me in those few hours that I was unaware?

I’m terrified of finding out. Brandon and I had never had sex. He wanted to wait until I was eighteen.

It wasn’t because he was afraid of the repercussions because he’d already turned eighteen a few months ago, and this state has very stringent laws when it comes to underage sex. It was just a thing with him.

We’ve done some pretty heavy petting in the last year and a half, but he would never take things any farther even though sometimes I’d try to coerce him.

I can’t imagine how he feels believing that I’d given myself to someone else. The thought made me sick. I’d only been thinking of myself these last few weeks, never giving a thought to how he felt.

The images that were floating around were more suggestive than anything else, but it doesn’t take much of an imagination to figure out what it means when there’s a naked girl spread out on a bed with a man’s torso standing next to her.

My mind and body revolted and I sat up. “I need the restroom.” He helped me up and stood outside the door until he heard me being sick, then he came in and knelt next to me, holding my hair as I threw up bitter liquid.

My tummy cramped and my throat hurt. It was only as he stood me in front of the sink and I got a look in the mirror that the severity of what I’d done hit home.

My limbs started to shake and I wanted to scream and run away. A monster looked back at me, there was nothing behind my eyes.

I stared through tears at what I’d done to myself and what it meant. I’d tried to kill myself. Me, Kristi Bronwyn had tried to leave everything and everyone I know. I was taking the coward’s way out.

I never would’ve imagined that I was the kind of person who could be this weak. How did I get here? How did me not wanting my family to see what I had become push me to this point?

I looked at him in the mirror and sudden anger rose up inside me. I remembered what the cops had said and wondered how complete strangers could be the only ones willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I smashed my fist in the mirror trying to obliterate his face, suddenly hating him as much as I loved him. He had driven me to this.

Even as I thought it I knew my thinking was a bit skewed and confused, but my mind was too jumbled to separate reality from fiction.

“Stop it baby.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back.

“Don’t call me that.” I tried screaming the words at him but they only came out in a coarse squeak.

“Talk to me baby, what’s going on?” Like you care. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. Even his arms around me hurt.

“What do you care?”

Saying those words out loud made my heart hurt. He didn’t care, that was the bottom line. If he’d cared he’d have listened to me, he never would’ve believed the worst of me. I wouldn’t have done that to him.

He carried me back to bed and got me settled, but where just a few moments ago I would’ve died without seeing his face, having him near, I now wanted him gone. “Go home Brandon, I don’t want you here.”

I turned away from him, hating myself as much as I did him. I was so confused, so torn. Nothing made sense and I still didn’t know what happened to me that night.

The thought of what might’ve happened made my head spin and I didn’t want to talk anymore. My life was over; I knew it. From now on I’ll just be a shadow of the person I once was.

I was beginning to feel exactly the way I had when I walked into my closet with the rows of designer wear and hung myself.

There was an empty desolate feeling in the pit of my stomach and nothing but swirling colors where my thoughts were supposed to be.

He didn’t leave. I felt the heat of his body at my back and realized he was now lying on the thin cot behind me.

His arms came around me and I felt safe and cold at once. Where were those arms two weeks ago? Why had you left me alone to face that hell?

There was a war raging inside me. The anger that I couldn’t find the last few weeks seemed to be back in full force and it was all aimed at him.

But then the love I had for him, the love that hadn’t faltered not once while he was acting like an ass begged me to give him a chance. The chance he never gave me.

How was I supposed to deal with this mess that was going on in my head? I felt like I was going crazy and I realized it was because I felt betrayed.

He was the one person I expected to have my back, to be in my corner no matter what. And no matter how I told myself that he had every right to doubt, I couldn’t shake the belief that he should’ve believed me.

I wanted to say all of this to him but my throat hurt too much to talk and I was suddenly too tired to think.

My lids fluttered and closed and I escaped into the darkness again. Sleep was my new friend. Only when I was asleep did anything make sense and there were no unanswered questions.

* * *

The next time I woke up he was gone. I knew it even before I looked at the chair he’d sat in. Would I ever get over my need for him? Or was I destined to go through life missing him when he wasn’t there?

The thought only made me feel lonely and sad as I searched the room for my parents. Mom was curled up in a chair while daddy read a magazine. He picked his head up and looked at me as if he felt my stare.

With a quick look at my sleeping mother he came over to my bed. “Hi baby, how’re you feeling?” He kept his voice low so as not to wake mom as he brushed my hair back from my forehead.

I closed my eyes in shame as fresh tears started rolling down my cheek. “I’m so sorry daddy.”

“No baby, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

He sat on the bed beside me and pulled me into his arms. What was he sorry about? He hadn’t done anything wrong

“I should’ve been there, should’ve known that something was wrong with my little girl.” Oh no! “That’s not true daddy, it’s not your fault; none of this is.”

He didn’t answer and it only made me feel worse knowing that he was blaming himself for my screw-up.

I wanted to ask where Brandon was. I missed him even though I was the one who’d sent him away. And how could he just leave? “We sent Brandon home to get some rest. Poor kid’s been sitting in that chair for two days without sleep. He’ll be back later this evening.”

I felt my body relax at the news. I waited for daddy to bring up what I’d done, to ask me a thousand questions or even to yell at me for being stupid.

But I should’ve known better. Daddy has never yelled at me a day in my life. His silence only made me feel worst though. I wanted him to tell me what an awful person I was.

“Come on baby, have some of these ice chips, they’re supposed to help ease the pain in your throat.” I sat up and let him feed me the ice even though I could’ve done it myself.

We were practically alone for ten minutes before mom woke up and he never brought it up once. Mom once she woke up did pretty much the same and I was beginning to stress over the fact that they couldn’t even bring themselves to say anything about it.

They must really hate me now. I hadn’t given any thought to what this would do to their standing in the community, daddy’s business; mom’s friends.

I felt even worse when mom came over and kissed my forehead with a forced smile on her face. She hugged me to her chest for a while and I felt safe, but now there was something missing.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Was this going to be our life now? Were they always going to look at me with that wary look in their eyes?

Like they expected me to flake any second. How am I ever going to make this right? Is that even possible? I didn’t even feel like the kind of person who’d try to take their own life.

Even now I told myself I will never let myself get to that point again. But how can I ask them to believe me when I was lying there with a mark around my neck from where I’d tried to do just that?