See Me

13

I wondered if Jax knew just how much he had me under his thumb, now that I knew he was willing to tell people what happened.

It's not like I'd ever been embarrassed for people to know I had sex with someone at a party. It's happened a few times now. It's just sex after all.

But what happened in that room wasn't sex. And he knew it too. He had to. Right? He had to know what he did was wrong.

You made me do it. You did this.

His words echoed in my ear. I didn't want to believe them. I didn't do anything. Did I? Things were becoming blurry in my mind. The things that were once black and white were now mixing, becoming a frightening shade of grey.

I knew one thing for sure- the thought of anyone finding out what happened in that room was too much for me to bear. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If no one knew what happened to me, did it really happen?

My phone had been quiet all night. Through the take out dinner my dad had made me eat in front of him. Through the three episodes of Dexter I had mindlessly watched on the couch. Through the two hours I had stared at the first page of the book I was supposed to have read by now for English. Nothing. It just reiterated how alone I felt. How alone I was.

A walking hypocrite, aren't I? Annoyed when people talk to me, yet bitter when they don't.

I thought I'd be able to sleep in my own bed, but I guess I was wrong about that too. I couldn't escape the rising anxiety that crept through my body whenever I closed my eyes. I tossed and turned for hours, trying to find a position where I felt like I wasn't exposed.

Finally, I gave up. Close to 3 am, I crept into my dads bedroom like a little girl, as quietly as possible, trying not to wake him. He'd notice when he'd woke up tomorrow, but I'd have time to think of a lie by then. I curled on the small couch, covering myself in the fuzzy blanket I had brought with me. I was safe here. Nothing could happen without my dad knowing. I was safe here. I was safe here.

And I repeated that thought until I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up, the last thing I wanted was to go to school. To be around people in general. I wanted to curl up on the couch and watch reruns of Grey's Anatomy. I'd already finished the series, but every few months I found myself starting back at season 1. I knew every episode inside out, it was comforting to me. No surprises.

"Dad." I groaned out once I found him in the kitchen. He was wearing his typical suit, not a hair out of place. He turned from the pancakes he was flipping, with a smirk on his face like he had already predicted what I was going to say.

"Yes, dear." He answered, raising an eyebrow.

"I feel sick. Can I stay home today?" I tried to sound as sick as possible.

"Really? What's the problem?" He seemed amused.

"Uh, I have a headache." It was the first thing I could think of.

"If you're old enough to party and drink all weekend, you're old enough to deal with hangover that comes with it." My dad shook his head as he turned back to the pancakes.

"But..."

"No buts, Seren. You're going to school." He said sternly as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of me. I groaned loudly, to make sure he understood how annoyed I was before pushing the plate back at him and storming back up the stairs.

I quickly showered and went to brush my teeth, but my tube of toothpaste was tapped out. Of course it was. I had a feeling that everything that could wrong today, would do so. I went into to my dad's bathroom, knowing he had a hoard of new tubes. I opened one of the drawers to his vanity and dug around the boxes of toothpastes, looking for my favourite flavour. Just as I found it, I noticed a a yellow pill bottle had fallen through the back of the cabinet. I made my hand as small as possible and slipped my hand into the opening. I had to stretch my fingers as long as possible, but it only took me a second to fish it out. It was harder to pull my hand back through the opening with the bottle in my hand, and the sharp corner of the counter cut into my wrist. I cursed as I pulled my hand out, blotting the bleeding cut with toilet paper before fishing a bandaid out of the medicine cabinet and slapping it on.