In His Bed (18+)

Chapter 51

CW: Discussion of attempted sexual assault. If that's not something you want to engage with today, then it might be best if you skip this chapter.

Pulling up to the curb in front of the two-story home with the colonnade front, I parked the Beast and stilled the engine before grabbing my purse and walking up to the front door.

Footsteps sounded from within after I rang the bell, and the door opened, revealing Sierra's mother, looking exhausted and on edge.

Her eyes softened as she recognized me, "Oh, hi Hailey."

"Hey," I tucked some hair behind my ear to hide my shaking hands, "can I see Sierra?"

"She's, um..."

"I know; I messaged her before I came."

"And she's okay with you being here?"

I nodded.

"Okay, she's in her room."

As she stepped back to let me inside, I murmured, "Thanks" before heading upstairs.

After years of sleepovers, I could've walked this path with my eyes closed. But, as my feet led the way, I felt my nerves fraying with every step, not knowing what I would find behind her door.

At the far end of the hallway, I paused at the edge of the rug, steeling myself as I raised my hand and knocked.

When she didn't answer, I said, "Sierra? It's me. Can I come in?"

There was a rustling sound, and moments later, I saw the knob twisting.

Oh, no.

As she pulled open the door, I got a good look at her face.

"Hey."

"Hey." She turned away from me, red-rimmed eyes downcast as she walked back to her bed.

Following her, I set my purse aside and sat down on the mattress, crossing my legs as I took in her haggard appearance.

"I guess it'd be stupid to ask if you're okay?"

Sierra let out a humorless snort. "Yeah."

Awkwardness set in, and I glanced around the room. Licking my lips, I asked, "You want to talk about it?"

She shrugged, reaching over for her much-loved teddy bear. "I've already gone over it a thousand times with Mom and Dad - hazards of lawyer parents, you know?" Squeezing the stuffed animal to her chest, she admitted, "Mom wants to press charges."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, he - he didn't do anything, really, but..." she trailed off, seemingly lost in thought, "but she's been talking with some colleagues who specialize in criminal law, and she thinks we have a case, especially considering I'm still a minor."

Oh, right; she's seventeen.

There was a reluctance in her voice, and I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Is that what you want?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know what I want," she mumbled. "I just... I'm not sure I see a point, you know? Like, what do I stand to gain from taking this to court?"

My thoughts went back to my encounter with Paul on the stairs, the sickly doubt, the queasy uncertainty.

"Maybe."

Silence descended upon us, and I watched as she caressed her bear's synthetic fur.

"You know, it's almost funny..."

"What?" I asked.

"Paul; I mean, for years I dismissed him as this pathetic joke of a man, pervy and paunchy and past his prime." She shook her head, "I thought he was ridiculous. Guess he proved me wrong."

"Sierra..."

"Like, you know he's a big dude, right? The first thing you notice about him is his size - but you don't realize exactly how big he is until it's the middle of the night and he's looming over you in a darkened kitchen-"

"Sierra-"

She didn't stop, eyes growing distant as her memories took her back. "When he's right there and you're alone with him, you suddenly understand what it means for him to be six foot nine and bordering on three hundred pounds."

Looking up at me, her chin shook as she breathed in, "All I could think was, 'I can't fight him off', because I can't - I couldn't, there's just no fucking way-" Squeezing her eyes shut, she shuddered.

When she spoke again, her voice was small and scared, "I- I don't know what would have happened if Amanda hadn't walked in."

"She stopped him?"

"He had me backed into the corner near the fridge - he..." Sierra grimaced, disgust dripping from her voice, "he was telling me how pretty I was, how he'd wanted this for so long," she paused, and bile rose in my throat.

"Then," she continued, "there was this awful crash, and suddenly Amanda's standing between me and Paul, protecting me, and everything's just a blur of screaming and yelling and shattering glass."

"Then she kicked him out?" I prompted.

Sierra nodded, "She had this massive cast-iron skillet in her hands, and she didn't drop it until his car was gone down the block."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah," she sighed, "I never knew Amanda had that in her."

"Good for her, I guess?"

Sierra laughed, a wild, despairing sound. "Jesus Christ," Rubbing her hands over her face, she muttered, "I just wanted a glass of fucking water - I didn't ask for this-"

"Of course you didn't; none of this is your fault."

"I know. Like, I know that, but there's this part of me that still feels like I did something wrong."

Her words hit me like an arrow to the chest. I knew that feeling, knew it intimately-

-it's how I felt after Paul groped me.

Glancing away, I swallowed, trying to compose myself.

As I stared out of her window, a vicious voice in my head whispered: This wouldn't have happened if you'd just spoken up.

Looking back at my devastated friend, I felt an unbearable weight settle on my shoulders.

You could have prevented this, if you weren't such a fucking coward.

Hot tears pricked my eyes, and I leaned over to tug her into my arms. Resting my cheek against her hair, I held her tight, feeling the burning pressure of the guilt I now carried.