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Chapter 143

I'm still a victim in my own right
But I'm the villain in my own eyes

— Billie Eilish, When I Was Older

. . . .

We went out to eat at around five, went grocery shopping for a little while, then drove back home all in the time span of three hours. I'm packing all the food away as Harry's finalizing his grading on some tests for one of his classes. Lilly's in her bathroom taking a bath with the door open in case she needs assistance at any given time.

While we were out, the two of them had unintentionally taken my mind off the Spencer bullshit. It was relieving to not be dwelling on it and constantly consumed with the paralyzing thoughts of what could have happened further from him just holding me to him, proposing sex, and his hand skimming over my body.

I rarely thought about it. Even when Harry put his hand on my thigh or on my back, I hadn't thought of Spencer's wandering hands. I was focused on Harry and Lilly—and only them. I don't think of them as just a simple distraction, but more so as a coping mechanism that's helping me pull my mind from going down a path of mental dwelling for who knows how long.

As for Dr. Spencer's part, I haven't heard anything from him—which I am relieved. No emails from him apologizing have popped up in my inbox. I will admit that I have checked several times throughout the night just to check. Each time, though, the only item in my inbox is a recent email from my professor replying to my email about an upcoming essay. I even checked the junk folder, but nothing.

He feels no remorse for what he did. I wouldn't put it past him to expect an apology from me for punching him or vulgarly insulting him. The inner misogynist in him is probably recapping the entire situation over and over again and showing himself how 'overdramatic' I was acting.

I had every right to stand up for myself against that asshole. It infuriates me to no end thinking about what happened yesterday. I wish I would have said more to him before I bolted out of there, but I couldn't stand to see him a second more. He repulses me now.

"Alright," Harry says. The continuous sound of clacking keys on his laptop tearing me from my thoughts. "I'm almost done."

Lilly walks out of the bathroom with her light pink bathrobe tied to her body. Her hair is in thin, dripping tendrils down her back with the ceiling lights reflecting off her dark brown hair. Her soft, pale skin glistens from her bath and the dew that settled in the air from the steam of the warm water.

"Daddy, can I play with my Barbies?" She asks him, her head resting against his bicep. Still grading a student's test, he wraps his arm around her, but his focus is concentrated on finishing up his grading.

"Lil, it's almost your bedtime."

"But it's not my bedtime yet. Please?"

She's giving him her puppy-dog eyes, but he's ignoring them from knowing he'll give in to her.

"You still need to get into your pajamas and I need to brush through your hair. By the time I'm done, it'll be your bedtime."

"Can you brush it tomorrow?" She pleads.

"No, Lilly."

She crawls under the table then stands up between his legs so he'll look at her. She's blocking his screen, relentlessly trying to get his attention.

"Not tonight, Lil. I need to finish grading and you need to go to bed. Your dolls will still be there when you wake up."

"Do you promise to play dolls with me tomorrow?" She asks, her bottom lip pushed out farther than the top, but he's doing a good job at not giving in.