I run after her until I can’t. She’s always been faster, but it’s her words that stop me dead once I grab her wrist and demand her to stop running.
“Let me go!” Zoë screams, shaking her hand free from my grasp and then she delivers the final blow. The anguish in her eyes beg me to listen. “I-I can’t look at you. Let me go, Owen. Let. Me. Go.” Tears stream down her cheeks as she turns around and runs. Always running. I now understand from what.
My fucking lungs burn as I unwillingly collapse against a chain-link fence. My heart feels like it’s being beaten with a fucking meat clever. I can’t breathe. I try to suck air into my useless lungs but it’s futile. I feel like I’ve just been run over by a Mack truck, dragged for miles before someone noticed my mangled body was stuck underneath.
I hear Zoë telling me what my father did to her over and over again. I drop to the snow covered ground and I let the fucking tears out because I’m filled with every emotion possible and I don’t know what to do with it. I want to hurt someone. I want to find Zoë and beg her for her forgiveness. I watched her struggle with those truths and I still pressed, I made her feel like I didn’t believe her. I was just…shocked and completely confused not wanting to believe that a man I idolized could hurt her.
She killed him…
He deserved to die if he raped her.
No, it’s not an “if.” He did.
Zoë wouldn’t fucking lie about that.
My father molested and raped her.
Those are words I never thought I’d ever say.
I’ve cried over someone I thought I knew for years. I was fucking proud that I looked like him because he was my father.
I’ve done nothing but hurt my best friend for the last sixteen years. I couldn’t protect her. I only reminded her of the worst moments of her life.
I fucking failed her.
It all makes sense now. Why she pushed me away, why she always froze up if I touched her. The contacts. The reasons why she never wanted to sleep over my house when we were younger. Why when I kissed her she said “we can’t.”
Every memory floats through my mind and I try to see deeper. I cringe thinking about all the times my father took us out. Zoë would be the happiest person, smiling and dancing, and then she wouldn’t. She’d keep her arms crossed over her chest, not speaking unless the answer was important.
I never questioned why her attitude changed so drastically if she was left in my room while I had to wash up after playing outside with our friends. I was too young to ever think something like this could happen. I always assumed she missed me. I know how that sounds but we were close. Too close.
We were best friends. But I knew she was my soulmate.
Being away from her suffocated me. I thought she felt the same way.
He hurt her. Repeatedly. And I never saw it.
I didn’t notice then. I never thought he was capable of this. I told him everything. And he betrayed me by hurting my best friend.
Who the fuck was he? How couldn’t I see it?
A roar rips through me and I bang my fist against the fence. It does nothing so I do it again and again and again until my skin tears open and blood trickles down my forearm.
I throw my head back, staring at the darkening sky.
How could you let this happen to her?
I stand, not giving a fuck about the blood splattering against the clean white snow, trailing behind me.
When I make it back to my house, I walk inside and follow the sound of my mother’s voice. Everyone is in the living room, phones in hand, panic in their eyes.
Ari sees me first. She exhales in relief until her eyes drop and find my bloodied hand. “Owen?”
I turn my head slightly, staring at the family portrait we had taken the year before my father died. Everyone is smiling. My father has Ari on his lap, and I feel my insides being yanked out of my body violently. Did he touch her too? I swear to God, if he hurt her…
What can I even do? He’s dead.
“Owen, what happened?!” Mom shrieks, running toward me.
I grab the framed picture off the wall and I throw it across the room like a Frisbee. The glass shatters, and yet, it does nothing. The family in that picture is still smiling. They’re clueless. They didn’t see the evil lurking in their own home.
They couldn’t protect the most precious person to ever set foot in my life.
I stomp over to the bathroom down the hall and slam the door shut. I turn the sink on, pushing my hand underneath the running water. It burns. It’s what I deserve.
I fumble with the drawers underneath the sink, looking for the first aid kit. When I find it, I throw it onto the counter and I look up.
My eyes connect with forest green ones reflecting back at me.
I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now.
I’ve never wanted to hurt myself by mutilating the way I look so I never have to see my father when I look at myself in the mirror.
I loved him.
Jesus fucking Christ I hate him and yet a small part of me still misses him. I feel sick to my stomach over that small part of myself. He hurt my best friend.
I don’t even know who my father is.
Who did I love?
I stand up straight never breaking eye contact with myself as I throw my arm back and punch the person in the mirror. Spiderwebbing with cracks, I still see him in the mirror.
His blood is still in my veins.
I am still his fucking son.
The bathroom door opens. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Beckett yells, running to my side. He takes in my bleeding hand, the broken mirror, and the vacant look in my eyes. “You’re freaking us out. Where’s Zoë?”
“She’s gone,” I state.
He’s silent for a second. “Like dead?”
I whip my head toward him. I know he has something against her. He always questioned why she survived the accident. It caused a shift between us when I found out. He wanted his father back. I never wanted to lose Zoë.
Beck must see how close I am to beating the shit out of him for even saying those words because he throws his hands up in surrender. “Dude, you’re covered in blood and she’s not here.”
Because just like him, I hurt her too…
“Did Dad ever touch you?” It tastes awful coming out of my mouth. I never thought that question would leave my mouth. I’ve heard stories about child sexual abuse, but I never, not once in my life, thought I’d be the offspring of one of the monsters.
I feel sick.
How do you think Zoë feels?
Beckett’s eyes widen. “What did you just say?”
“Did he ever touch you?”
“Fuck you, man. What the hell is wrong with you? Of course he never did. He would never!”
“He fucking did!” I roar, slamming my fists on the sink’s counter. I barely feel the pain in my left hand. Blood trickles down my skin. I must have done some damage.
I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.
Ari and Mom rush into the bathroom.
Through tear filled eyes, I spot Echo and Freddie behind them.
I think back on how I found both Echo and Zoë with red-rimmed eyes back at their place in Seattle. Echo hasn’t looked or talked to me since. I thought it was odd, but I didn’t press it.
I never fucking do.
I don’t ask questions.
I don’t do shit and because of it people I love get hurt.
I’m fucking useless.
I never paid attention to the clues the world was handing me. I turned a blind eye to everything, only seeing Zoë. Only seeing what I wanted to see.
She gives me life. And what did I do for her? Love her and break her heart all at the same time.
I should have noticed something back then. Why did I never fucking notice?!
“Owen, what’s going on?” Ari asks, her voice cracking. She stares at me with tears running down her cheeks, and I want to ask her the same question I asked Beckett, but I want to protect her. She was only five when he died.
She was…
My throat constricts when it hits me.
Zoë was six when it started.
Was Ari next?
Was it already happening?
Oh God.
Would he hurt his own daughter?
If that accident didn’t happen, what would have happened?
Do I ask Ari or Mom?
Do I say anything at all?
Zoë never said anything. Maybe she doesn’t want anyone to know? Ever think about that, dipshit?
Fuck, I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.
I feel like I’m betraying my best friend and ruining my family at the same time.
I square my gaze on Mom. Her wide, frantic eyes are on me, silently asking what is going on.
“He was a child molester.”
Fuck, my heart fucking hurts thinking about my father and knowing this truth. We loved a…monster.
Mom’s hand flies to her mouth and she shakes her head back and forth, like I’m lying and she refuses to believe it.
My eyes land on Ari. She doesn’t know whether to look at me, our brother or our mother.
“Ari, I am so sorry but I have to–”
“No!” My mother screams, taking a step forward and blocking Ari from my view.
“Ari, did Dad ever to–”
“Owen, stop this!” Mom reprimands. “Stop this right now.” Her eyes are on the floor, shaking her head back and forth, mumbling that he wasn’t a bad man.
Why is she doing this? I need to fucking know!
“Ari, go to your room,” Mom finishes.
“But Mom, I don’t–”
“Ari, please! Go upstairs! Now!”
Ari walks out of the bathroom, her eyes locked on mine until she’s heading out into the hallway, her footsteps loud as she runs upstairs.
It’s so quiet in the bathroom.
It’s the calm before the storm.
Because I feel like something bad is about to happen. My world is not done exploding.
“Did he touch her?” I ask, forcing my mother to look at me. “Did he hurt her too?”
Her blue eyes flick up. I see the torment swimming in them. The guilt. The truth.
Please, God, say no.
Her hand flies up, landing on my cheek. The sharp sting doesn’t register until Mom’s gasping over the fact that slapped me.
I don’t ask again. I don’t have to. I know.
“She’s too young to remember,” my mother sobs. “Please, she can never know.”
I fall back against the sink, sliding to the floor. He is not the man I thought he was and I let Zoë run away thinking I didn’t believe her.
“She was only four. I didn’t…he said he would take care of her bath. I was so tired, Owen. I had to do everything. I needed to relax, just for five minutes. When I walked in…” Mom clutches her chest tightly, eyes darting everywhere but not focusing on anything. “His hand was near her…but he was drying her off. He didn’t…he wasn’t…” Her eyes drop to the floor and she whispers, “His hand lingered there…between her legs.”
Jesus Christ.
“He never did that again. I swear.” Her eyes capture mine. “He was a good man.”
I kept thinking the same thing until I looked up at Zoë and saw her blank stare. She confided in me and I made her feel like she was lying. That was the last thing I wanted. It was a lot to process and everything in me tried to believe the words she was saying but it went against everything I thought I knew.
I’m so fucking sorry, Zoë.
“No, he fucking wasn’t,” I answer back.
Beckett doubles over and vomits on the floor, mumbling that this isn’t real. The blood from my hand mixes in with it.
I look up at the bathroom door, my eyes landing on Echo who is leaning against the wall of the hallway. Her eyes are locked on mine. Until they travel over to my mother. “If you said something…did something, your husband probably never would have raped my best friend.” Echo pushes off the wall, pulling Freddie with her.
My mother’s eyes widen and her guttural sob breaks my heart. That’s if my heart has anything left to break.
I hear Echo call out for Mowgli, ordering him to get into the caddy.
I hear her telling Freddie that they’re going to see where Zoë ran off too.
I hear her shut the front door, closing us in this hell.
I see the moment I caused all of this to happen.
My father hurt Zoë…because of me.
Owen, Fifteen years old
I was pacing my room for the hundredth time today. I was so nervous over what I was planning on doing. Nervous yet thrilled. I was going to ask Zoë out. I was done with this “we’re just friends” thing. I love her. And I think she loves (or really likes) me too.
She texted me an hour ago telling me she was coming over for my small birthday party. Mom wanted to celebrate before Zoë and I headed out to do something. Zoë also apologized for running off the second she saw my father in the woods. He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. I still didn’t know what he was doing there and it pissed me off because he caused Zoë to freak out. That was our spot. No one else was allowed.
I saw something different in the way Zoë was looking at me yesterday. While we walked around town, watching the little kids ring doorbells and say “trick-or-teat,” she wasn’t more than a few inches from me, running her fingers over her collarbone a few times every time she found me staring at her. She kept her arm linked with mine and giggled over the littlest things. And when she hopped onto my back because her feet were starting to hurt, she laid her head against the spot between my neck and shoulder and kissed it softly. That was something she never did. Like, ever.
She was happy. And we were alone.
Whenever we were alone, her eyes shined a little brighter. It made me feel–
“Owen, are you ready?” Dad asked, walking into my room, interrupting my thoughts. “Ari wants to eat her cupcake before she heads over to Nicholas’ party.”
I stopped pacing and exhaled. “I’m going to ask Zoë out.” Damn that felt amazing to say out loud.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “And does Zoë know this is something you’ve thought about?”
I ran my hands through my hair and tugged. “I love her. And she knows that. I haven’t really kept my feelings a secret.” It would be so embarrassing if I read all of this wrong and she didn’t want to be more than friends.
Dad shifted his weight onto the other foot and cleared his throat. “Does she love you?”
I locked eyes on him. “I think she feels something for me.”
One chilly afternoon last week, Zoë and I were down by the creek and while she was sitting beside me with her legs draped over mine, she shut her book and dropped it onto her legs and said, “You know, you’d be the perfect book boyfriend. I would fangirl hard every time you showed up in a book. You’re pretty amazing.” Zoë and her books are like humans and oxygen. She needs them to survive. And to hear that I’d be one of her book boyfriends is basically the biggest compliment she could ever give a person.
She said and did things that made me think she’d want to be “more” with me. I didn’t know what to do with all of those little things anymore. I needed to just ask her out already!
Her mom called the second I was going to say something and then she was gone, running back home because her dad needed her.
She left me wondering what she meant with that statement.
“What if it doesn’t work out? Maybe you two were meant to be just friends.”
My eyes narrowed at my father. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.”
His lips twitched before he opened his mouth. “I’m only trying to help. I never thought we two were this serious. She never seemed…interested.”
Wow. What a nice thing to hear on your birthday, the same day you plan to grow a pair and do something you’ve waited years to do.
“I don’t mean to sound harsh, son. I want you to be prepared for any outcome.”
“Yeah, I will. And I’m one hundred percent sure she’ll say yes when I ask her to be my girlfriend.” I swiped my cell phone off my bed and walked past him. “I thought you would’ve been proud of me. You love Zoë.”
I walked out of my room, leaving my father behind, and I headed downstairs, toward the kitchen. I couldn’t think of what Dad was saying. Because those thoughts crossed my mind, too. Today was a day full of positives. I didn’t have time for the negative.
Ari had a chocolate cupcake in her hand and another stuffed in her mouth when I spotted her. She grinned up at me. “Happy Birthday, Owen,” she said in her adorable childlike voice.
“Thanks, Ari.” I kissed her puffed out cheek and grabbed the container holding two more cupcakes. “Ready to go to Nicholas’ house?”
She nodded and bit into her second cupcake. I felt bad for the parents that would have to look after her for the next three hours. Children’s birthday parties were exhausting. “Will Zoë come pick me up later? I want her to see the new puppy. And have some cake. Nicholas’ mommy told Mommy that they have ice cream cake! And a bouncy house!”
I chuckled as we headed outside. “She’ll be there.” I was pretty sure that my little sister was as obsessed with Zoë as I was. She’s pretty amazing.
We walked to Ari’s friend’s house, which was only a few blocks away. I sent her inside with the two cupcakes she promised Nicholas and then I made my way back home.
Mom and Beckett were parked in the driveway when I arrived. “Happy Birthday, honey!” she said, pulling me into a hug. “Help me bring the cake in. Beckett wants to hold his gift.”
I looked past her shoulder at my younger brother who was dragging a blue gift bag that was almost the same size as him into the house. “What could he possibly afford? He’s eight.”
Mom slapped my shoulder playfully. “He really wanted to get you something. Be nice.”
I exhaled deeply and nodded.
The only gift I wanted was currently at her house, probably with her nose stuck in a book, driving me crazy over a simple yes or no question.
But it wasn’t so simple was it?
It was life changing.