The pieces I'm still picking up

The peices im still picking up.

      It had only been about twelve hours since my mind was totaled by the initial phone call. It began to take over my day. I tried to concentrate on the things currently going on in front of me. Teacher calling role. The overwhelming sound of a million conversations my peers were having around me. The loud door being constantly opened and closed. Everything going on, and the only thing I could think about was this morning. Well, that and the idiotic idea we as humans have, that if you push away the emotions and true reactions towards certain life-changing events, it will make it hurt less. But then times like this pop up again and all the work, sleepless nights, and empty stomachs to try and keep these feelings down simply become a vague memory from a lifetime ago. The only thing you can focus on is the pain. The hurt.
       "Abbi? Is everything okay?"  As I look up to see who has interrupted my deep train of thought, I find a friend. I wanted so badly to say I wasn't okay. That I was shattered, and wanted to go home, crawl in a ball, and not leave my room until I forget about everything. I looked at her hoping the smeared mascara and bags under my eyes would give her the answer she searched for.
"Yeah, I'm all good just really stressed out. Tired you know?" That was a lie. I had gotten great night's sleep, but I guess my appearance tells people more truth than my words sometimes. I told her what anyone would want to hear. Plus, trauma dumping to someone I barely know in first period would quickly give me the label as the attention seeking 16-year-old girl.
      "Oh of course. Work again huh? Maybe you should take time off every now and then. You work too much." She was right, and I suppose my appearance that day was one I had too often, normal to myself, and apparently, others as well.
The only friend I talked to about the situation was my best friend. I had told her that morning. It was embarrassing. Explaining the phone call. Having to explain why it was so heart breaking. Explaining why it was so normal. Needless to say, I didn't get much schoolwork done that day. My day consisted of flash backs from waking up in my bed, getting ready for school about to leave, then hearing my phone ring. I can still hear her say "You have to choose".
     I went through my day like a zombie. I was physically there but completely mentally gone. I felt the day go by so slowly. Each class I found myself counting down the minutes from the moment I stepped foot in; even lunch. I was exhausted. It wasn't a shock everyone was weird towards me that day. I think people were scared if they said the wrong thing it would set me off. 
Before I knew it, fourth period came around and I could not wait to leave. I had plans to go to the basketball game later that night with my best friend. I still planned to go, figured it couldn't hurt. Plus, I had made these plans a few days prior and hated backing out of things. The class was loud, and I could barely make out the announcements. "Basketball.... girls... news.... have a great day!" The bell rang and it was time to leave. I walked out of the school and found my mom's car. I had to take a deep breath and try and prepare for what I was about to walk into.
       Previously that morning, when my nana had called me, my mom was sitting next to me for the entire phone call. Since it was my mom's mom, she was already annoyed with her calling me while we were on the way to school, nonetheless her calling and saying everything she said. To put it short, I was given two choices about our upcoming vacation we would be having in a couple weeks. An event that could have my childhood sexual predator there with us. My grandma had recently found out about the events that went on only after I had told my mom about who it really was who had put their hands on me after 7 years of protecting him. My mom had known something was up, I had told her, but never who. I was scared it would break up the family, or that no one would believe me. I mean who could blame me? He was everyone's favorite cousin. Favorite grandkid. Favorite nephew. 
     Between my mom cussing at me to hang up, my crying, and my grandma rambling on about how I can either tell the whole family, or just not go, I was overwhelmed. While I was at school, my mom was "taking care of the situation." I was clueless about this when I got to school. It wasn't until I got in her car to go home that I was told she took some action.
      We sat in silence for a minute or two when my mom took a deep breath in and said, "so I handled the situation." My heart started racing, I was panicking on the inside. Did she tell everyone? Are they mad at me? Is he going on vacation? 
      "Okay..." I was there, still, silent, waiting for the next words she would throw at me.
      "I called your nana, had some... words." she paused. I knew something worse was coming. "Then, after we hung up," I started to tear up. "I called Jacob." my heart dropped. My head turned quickly to her, out of fear. What could she have possibly said to him? How does this fix anything? Suddenly I was 9 again, alone with him, and vulnerable.
      "I told him he would get a call to go on vacation with us from nana, and that he would say no. That he knows why." I awaited her next words to follow. Eager to hear how he would act confused and get upset over not being able to come. "...and he just said, yes." I broke. Immediately. Not a mention of my name, yet he knows exactly why. I began to cry. I wasn't crazy. I didn't make it up. He just owned up to it. He just owned up to it. I began to cry for a different reason. This entire time he knew what he did. For years. Everyone turned away even though all the signs were there. And he got away with it. He still Is getting away with it. I thought my mother was finished but she continued about what she told him. "I told him we still love him." we. my mind cut her off for me. The thought that anyone can love a monster hurt too much to think about. 
       "Okay well thank you mom for doing this for me." I wanted to be done with the conversation.
      A few hours passed when it came time to go to the game. My best friends came over, and we left for the game. I was feeling a bit better. It was over for real this time. I wouldn't have to think about it anymore.
      We walk in and find a seat in the middle of our underhyped student section. We were close enough to the front to really get hold of all the action while being able to speak freely about our lives. It was loud, I could barely hear my thoughts. The guy next to me, loud, waiting for any chance he got to get up and scream. The people Infront of us have a different approach to the game. Sit there and gossip. Can't blame them I suppose, this is high school. 
     I always found joy in basketball games. They were exciting and full of action I could understand. I looked forward to the chanting and screaming, the hype. On top of that I got to eat with my friends and most of the time a couple of random people we would meet that night. It made me forget my problems and live in the moment. But now, it's hard to think about all the great basketball games and outings after without thinking about this night.
       "How are you feeling about earlier?" I look over at my best friend who seems to be genuinely curious. We had spoken about my mother's conversation with me when she came over before we left, but it had been an hour or two and she knows me very well. She knew I tend to dwell on events and things until I've thought about them too much where it's just become a meaningless event that happened to happen to me. 
       I gave her a head shake and continued to watch the game. She quickly responded with, "Did you hear about what happened yesterday though?" Shes trying to truly distract me. I get it. 
Her tactics worked to an extent because I did end up finding a moment of peace while at the game with her. That didn't last long though. 
       "Ding!" my phone. I looked down to find a couple notifications, nothing out of the normal, but as I looked, I found "Jacob" I Immediately showed the phone to my best friend. She looked speechless. As was I. what could he want? I started panicking. I decided to debrief in the bathroom instead of making a scene in front of my peers. As we walked in, I opened the text. 
        I scanned over the text like my life depended on it. "Idk if you have my number saved...talk to you and apologize for everything... I'm really sorry... ik you probably hate me... nothing I do can fix anything... I hope one day we could be more closer like family...I hope one day you can forgive me for everything..." I couldn't believe what I just read. Running through my mind at this point were two things; he just admitted to me he's guilty, and what the actual hell. More closer like family. I was at a loss for words, I started crying. I let my best friend read it. She had more to say than just "what the hell." Suddenly, she knew the whole dictionary of curse words. I was grateful to have her. I know if I was at home and by myself it would've been bad. 
        "You do not owe him a reply if you don't want to. He is a sick person you do NOT owe him a response abbi." she meant this. I wiped the tears from my eyes and replied to him. My fingers started to type. Suddenly my mom's words replayed in my head. "We don't hate you" I decided to go by this.
        "I don't hate you but it's hard to deal with everything and I need time." I hit send. It was one word puzzle of lies. I hated him. I do hate him. I will never forgive him. I don't need time, that has passed. The only truthful thing in that text was that it was hard to deal with everything. I woke up, there it was. I eat, or in most, don't, there it is. I struggle with other people's touch because of him. I have nightmares that will mess up my week. I have breakdowns at any given moment because of him. Because of him, I will forever feel disgraceful, disgusted, and uncomfortable in my own skin. There is no forgiving.
      "Would you like to go sit back down?" She looked at me with full concern.
       "Yeah, I don't want to just dwell on this. Screw him lets go watch it."
       "Are you sure?" She stood there eager for my response.
       "Yeah, let's go." I lied. I wanted to go home. Cry to my mom. Then again what good would that be? When I told her months prior it was him, she was upset. Upset at herself, him, and me for not telling her. Shes normally great with comfort, but when I told her I never wanted to be around him, she explained eventually I would most likely forgive him, maybe even have him at my wedding. Afterall, he was family. It made me mad to think about how she would ever even want him around me. She was better now, obviously. She understands I don't want to associate with him, ever. Proved that when she made the call, made the effort. 
         When I went home that night, I was just excited to shower. Anytime a mention of him comes up, the entire past with him comes back. I find myself looking at the child who was stripped of her pride too early. Days like these I end up taking 3-4 showers a day to try and clean him off. It never works. No matter what I do, who I speak to, how many times I shower or change my appearance, I cannot run away from what happened. I do, however, believe eventually I'll find peace with it all, I pray for it, Beg for it even.