Trigger warning: mentions of substance abuse and rape
Author's Note: This story contains brief mentions of excessive use of alcohol as well as rape (without any graphic description, though). This story is me working through a part of my life and therefore needed to contain this aspect for it to feel genuine. However, it may not be for you. Please proceed with caution because triggering any trauma in my readers is the last thing I would want to achieve by writing something to heal myself. If you feel comfortable reading about such topics, I hope you enjoy reading this short story. I would also appreciate hearing what you thought about the story and feel very happy if you left a vote, in case you liked my story! Thank you for getting through this much-too-long author's note:)
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Today Pia was going to tell Manuel that she knew. She was going to tell him, even though the last time they had talked was during the school trip to Nice a year ago. She was going to tell him, even though he was her first boyfriend, her first ex-boyfriend, her first kiss, her first time. Pia had to tell Manuel that she knew about the Lydia story, she had to because she knew and she cared and Manuel needed to know that.
She hadn't known for too long before she saw Manuel again in Uni; he was in a lecture she had to retake. Actually, Marlen had told her only two weeks before the term had started at a garden party with some old classmates. At first, Pia hadn't realised the gravity of the story - so what if Manuel and Lydia had slept together at that party around Christmas? But then it had hit her. She hadn't known what to do with the information. After all, neither Lydia nor Manuel was in her life any longer, so Pia had chosen to just bury what she knew and move forward.
And then there he was; propped up behind his laptop that still had the same stickers on the cover it had had back when Pia and Manuel had watched movies on it all night. Manuel had recognised her, his soft ocean eyes whose cool looks used to make Pia shiver had widened briefly when Pia had entered the lecture hall. But no expression had crossed Manuels slightly weathered features, instead, he had turned to the girl who was sat next to him and sheepishly asked for a charger for his phone - typical Manuel. It must have been easy for him to ignore Pia being there, he had no obligations towards her, nothing to say at all. But the same did no go for her, she knew and she cared.
Then and there in the lecture, Pia's conscience had thrown daggers into the pit of her stomach and the blood that had been drawn formed a steady clot that had not vanished since. Pia would have to talk to Manuel so the wound could heal and the clot would disperse. That was easier said than done, though. Every week since the term had started, Pia had made plans Monday night to talk to Manuel the next morning after their lecture. But the two hours every Tuesday passed awfully fast and Manuel always seemed to have somebody to talk to. And now Christmas was approaching, Pia had yet to speak to Manuel and the clot in her stomach had started to learn the laws of gravity. It had started to drag her posture to the ground so bad that as of late Pia had to go see a physical therapist who helped her straighten her back. But all of that was going to end today because Pia was going to talk to Manuel.
