ALL THE WORDS WE COULDN'T SAY

T W E L V E

<mentions of sexual abuse>

Why was I nervous to meet my mentor?

Maybe because their first impression of you is that you're stupid?

Since when did I care about people's impressions of me?

Since you're a fucking human with an innate preference for social inclusion.

Well whoever this mentor was, they certainly weren't doing this for nothing. They must've been offered an incentive for applying to this programme.

I sat in the small study room of the library, my textbooks on the desk and a notepad on top of them. I hated waiting.

But I would've rather sat there, in that room, and waited for an eternity, than witness the door creak open and see the face of the person who I second-least wanted to enter.

Killian.

Why? Why had the universe forsaken me? What had I done wrong in this life to be punished like this? Why?

•

After recovering from a panic attack in the girls' toilets, I still couldn't stop thinking about Killian. He must've been shocked by how I reacted when he reached for my arm. But I couldn't help it.

"Persy! You call that a grand jeté? Straighten your legs!"

"Sorry, Madam Alarie." Fuck. He was even messing with my ballet practice.

When my classes ended, I made my way to Lake Murphy. I often went there to reside in peace for a while. At school, I was judged. At home, I was violated. I got anxious in public. And I couldn't afford anything other than a small drink at most places.

When I saw a boy with hair the colour of chocolate, sitting at the edge of the lake, I wasn't surprised. There was no reason for me to expect Killian to be there, but I still somehow had a small inclination that he would.

The soft thud of my bag hitting the ground caused him to turn around. His glasses had slid slightly lower on the bridge of his nose, revealing the clarity of dark blue eyes.

He moved to stand up, but I gestured for him to stay. As I sat down next to him, my tired legs hanging lifelessly over the water, he didn't say anything. Good. It'd make it easier for me to tell him.

I had never spoken the words out loud before. They were always there on the edge of my lips, but always unspoken, unspeakable. As I opened my mouth to say it, I feared I physically wouldn't be able to. I feared that this would be like another night, on the sofa with my Mum while she'd be watching TV. And the words would simply grow and grow until they'd be too big for my head to contain. And then I'd swallow them down to the pits of my stomach while she'd remain unaware. Would this be the same?

"My stepdad rapes me." Did I just say that? Had the words come out of my mouth with volume? It was hard to tell given Killian's lack of response. Maybe he was trying to process what I had just dumped on him. So I continued. I told him what I could, although the major details were just too difficult to say. But it was more, infinitely more, than anything I had said to anyone.

When I finished, and Killian still hadn't said or done a thing, I realised that I had just shared the biggest piece of my life with a boy who seemed to loathe me. Stupid idiot. Was I expecting him to do something? It wasn't his burden to carry and it would be cruel to think that it was.

I saw no reason to stay any longer, as I swung my legs over to the grass and began to walk away. But I became stunned when I felt a hand spin me around and pull me into the tightest hug I'd ever received. Killian Hayes was hugging me! Willingly hugging me! A moment after the initial surprise, I wrapped my arms around him, sealing the hug.

Then I cried.

Aside from this morning, I hadn't cried in so fucking long. Not even when the other ballet students threw away my pointe shoes so I couldn't practice. Not even when Chris Richards assaulted me for the first time. Not even when I bled for two whole days after. Not even when he slapped me and threatened he'd do more.

It was a proper, brutal cry. The kind that made you feel like you lost half your weight in just tears. Killian didn't let go, not until I pulled away first. My eyes were sore and puffy, my throat felt like sandpaper, my face dry and tight from the salty water that had ran across it.

"I'm sorry." I managed to let out in a croaky voice.

"You've nothing to be sorry for." He said.

"I just dumped a load of shit on you."

He smiled. It wasn't a smile out of pity, thankfully. It was just a smile. "I'm glad that you did."

I furrowed my brows at him. "You're glad?"

"Yes. Because I'd rather you tell someone than no one."

I returned his smile. "Thank you."

•

"You've got to be fucking joking," I muttered as I grabbed my books.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Leaving."

"What? Why?"

I stopped and turned to face him, making sure he'd absorb the full force of my words. "Because I'd rather die than stay in the same room as you."

"Persy wait-"

He reached for my arm. He fucking reached for my arm. It was like us at fifteen all over again.

It took one glare at his hand before he immediately retracted it. "I really think you should consider this."

I scoffed. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because I can get your grades up fast."

"Last time I checked, I didn't have a photographic memory."

"Trust me, I-"

"Trust you?" I was gobsmacked at his statement. "The last time I did that, you spat it back in my face. Why the fuck should I trust you?"

"Because I'm not the same person I was back then," Killian urged. Was he telling the truth?

"That's too bad because I don't believe you." I turned around to avoid his gaze. They had too much power, even after all that he'd done.

"Then give me a chance to prove myself."