bare [h.s.]

Truth Be Told

Sunday.
The attack occurred over a week ago,
but to me, it had felt like mere hours
since being pinned underneath
the person I thought I could build
something strong with.
But that's the thing about dreams.
Your fantasies and glamorized delusions are nothing compared to the hard hit of reality,
and I took a beating.

I push my shoulders back, gazing upon my reflection in the mirror.
"I can't do this," I finally announce,
slouching and turning to Harry,
who sits quietly on my bed.

"You've suffered through worse,"
he stands abruptly, making his way
across the room to me.
His arms wrap tightly around my waist as he kisses gently along my shoulders, and I shudder at his touch. My eyelids flutter shut as he sways slowly with me in his grasp.

"Do we have to do this?" I whisper,
bringing my hands up to rest on his
wrists. I feel him nod his head against
me, nuzzling his face into my hair.
"Come on," he gives me one last squeeze before opening my bedroom door; the same one that created a secure barrier between us and my parents. "We don't want to
keep them waiting."

I sigh before nodding him off,
following him out like a lost puppy.
I smile at the thought of him once
doing the same to me, when we had
our first official meeting.
He takes my hand and leads me
down the steps slowly,
and with each step,
my chest aches with anxiety.
They're going to disown me.

"Mum, Dad," Harry jokes as we enter
the living room where my parents
are seated soundly. My mother laughs along with his teasing, making the atmosphere less tense.
I clench his hand tightly for support
as we take a seat across from them.

"He's been in our house for ten
minutes and he's already our son-in-law," my father crookedly grins,
resting his hand atop my mother's.
Harry coughs awkwardly and glances
over at me from the corner of his eyes.

"Don't give him any ideas," my
mother retorts, crossing her legs neatly. Now it's Harry's turn to clench my hand, and I clear my throat to speak.

"I have something to tell you," I say,
breathing in and out to calm myself.
If I could choke the words out without
breaking down, then maybe this would go smoother than anticipated.
My mother's expression turns hard
and my dad shifts uncomfortably beside her.

"Are you-" she begins, biting on her
tongue to stop herself from accusing.

"No, Mom. I am not pregnant," I sigh,
and both of my parents smile in relief. "But I-"

"Sawyer was recently invited to a party at my home," Harry cuts in, avoiding my harsh glare.
"And unexpectedly, her...
Elijah showed up.
I tried to make him leave
I-I swear. I would never put
your daughter in danger.
I never wanted to."

My parents look from him to me,
and I notice Harry's glossy eyes.
He lets go of my hand to wipe fallen
tears from his cheeks, pitifully laughing at himself all the while.

"Harry," I beg, "Please don't do this.
You don't have to do this."

"It was my fault. I should've watched
her. I should've stayed by her side and
made him leave sooner, but I didn't.
I didn't and I have regretted it ever since."

My father leans forward,
narrowing his eyes at Harry.
"What are you getting at?"

I grip Harry's arm,
tugging at his sleeve to make him stop. He turns his head slightly to look at me.
"Elijah was entirely too drunk...
He-took advantage of your daughter,
whilst in his intoxicated state. Luckily
I stopped it before it could go any further."

My eyelids shut by themselves as
hot tears stream down my face.
My hands still hold tight around
his arm and he leans in closer to press
a kiss against my forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into my ear,
leaning his forehead on my own.
An eruption of screaming and crying
sounds from across the room,
but I block the awful noises out
when I feel his skin on mine.

"Why did you do it?" I ask lowly,
softly touching his cheek with one hand.

"I couldn't stand to see you fall apart
again," he clenches his eyes shut,
frowning as I study his face.

"Go," I mumble, patting his knee.
"Go home, I can handle this now."
Harry pushes himself to a standing
position, mumbling his last apologies
to my parents, who are now in each other's arms, crying amongst themselves.

The front door lightly closes
and I sit silently as my father
glances up at me with swollen eyes. And then the realization comes to me;
I have never seen my father cry.