pen pal - trixya

chapter 24

TW: descriptions of sexual assault, homophobia, catholicism

November 3rd, 2015. Tuesday, 04:56 p.m.

Trixie tries to ignore the doorbell ringing, grunting against her pillow.

She hasn't moved too much since she came home that night, bothering to get up only to shower in a frivolous attempt of washing off all of the feelings that got caught on her skin since then. Still, no matter how hard she scrubs the inches of her where she still feels Katya's touch burning, or how many times she shampoos her hair, or how many more cuts she gets from shaving her legs even though there is not enough hair grown out yet, she still feels like an idiot. When she isn't showering, she stays in bed, having made the conscious choice not to show up at school or work, texting Shangie she's been sick. Trixie lies in bed all day listening to all of the songs she knows will put her in a worse mood.

Her mom is worried. She knocked at Trixie's bedroom door the previous night carrying a tray full of heated up frozen food - it's the best she can do. Nina didn't ask many questions, but she held Trixie tightly in a warm hug as they laid together in her small twin-sized bed until she fell asleep.

Crying seems to take too much effort, so most of the time she simply watches the ceiling until her eyes are full enough to spill. Her pillows don't get wet, but her lungs seem to be full of salty water. She hasn't looked at her phone since Sunday, but every time it buzzes she knows it's either Dela asking too much about how she's feeling or an email from Katya. Katya . Just the thought of her hardens her heart, only to immediately melt its beats away.

It's been a stone-hard truth to swallow. The one person she trusted the most and the one person she was willingly risking her heart for were the same, and she lied to Trixie. She's so stupid. Somehow she knows she should have seen it coming, but every time Trixie tries to think through it her brain burns out and gives up halfway into the story. Katya's face won't leave her head. The first look she gave Trixie when she was still sitting on the couch, and how she realizes now why she stood there frozen. Right before she smoked her cigarette, the way she breathed in and out so fast and bit her lip before speaking like she was trying to stop herself from saying too much. When they kissed and Trixie gave in to her, the glow in Katya's eyes from seeing her so up close, and then when they stopped kissing and Katya looked lost in her own little world. It all makes sense now.

Amidst her current agony, lying face down on her bed trying just a little to smother herself against her pillow, she forgets a very important detail: Dela knows how to pick locks. Before she knows it, a harsh slap across the butt startles her into turning around and sitting up.

"That's harassment," she complains. Dela sits at the end of her bed, eyes almost wet and the shadow of a leftover smile haunts her lips. Trixie gets it - if she had to see her own face right now, she might react just the same. She is aware that at this point the darkness under her eyes must have taken over most of her cheeks, and that her skin is so pale and dry that all the glow is gone. Trixie is barely the ghost of a girl.

Dela places a hand on her knee, Trixie allows the touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a dumb bitch."

Her friend purses her lips. "None of this was your fault, Trixie. Don't blame yourself."

"It's not about blame, it's about being too naïve to see what's right in front of me," Trixie explains. "It's about handing your heart to someone and watching them break it."

Dela pats her knee. "Katya fucked up by not telling you, but I can't let you lie here and wallow in self-pity until your bed swallows you whole. You need to get yourself back together."