Fragments

7.2

A/N: Trigger Warning (as if this whole novel isn't a trigger)

     7.2

     My hair is brushed across my forehead and tucked behind my ear, but I can't bring myself to open my eyes to see by who.

     I'm drifting, falling softly into dreamland.

     "Piper?" The voice comes a time later. It's quiet and distant, like if I tried I could convince myself that I never really heard it at all. I want to respond but I'm being pulled down into the depths of sleep.

     A hand touches my bare shoulder. I try to turn away from it, but it's useless. The hand is too strong and cold and I can't seem to make myself move the way I want to. I don't think I could make myself breathe if I needed to, rather then relying on my subconscious to do it for me.

     Fingers caress my face and I jerk away from them, not wanting to be touched. I make my mouth form words that come out jumbled and unfamiliar. My throat is so dry I sound sick.

     "Just go back to sleep. Shh, now," the voice says quietly. They touch my forehead this time, letting their fingers slide down to my jaw. I turn my head to the side and the sudden movement makes my head swirl. "Just sleep it off."

     With sticky eyelashes I finally force my eyes open. The room is pitch black, the only light coming from a small sliver underneath the door. It's the only thing in the room I can clearly see other then the darkness of a figure standing next to the bed.

     I try to sit up but I can't find the energy. My arm feels like a bag of bricks as I slowly lift it up to grab the hand from my face, pushing it away.

     "Stop.". The word barely makes it out of my dry lips.

     "Aw, Piper. Still not feeling well?" The bed dips as the figure sits down beside me. They don't take their hand from mine so I pull it away, letting it fall onto my stomach. It's then I realize that I woke up without any blankets on.

     "What's going on?" I whisper.

     He grabs my arm and puts it firmly on the bed at my side. "I can make you feel better."

     I struggle to get up but he pushes me back down. My lips part to speak, to object, but the words barely come out. It feels like my mouth is stuffed with cotton. The only word I manage to rasp is no.

     Whatever is going through my body seems to be waning, but not fast enough. My limbs feel like they're filled with cement, practically useless.

     When he touches me, I struggle to push him away.

     "Don't be like that," he says.

     When he tries to kiss me, I press my lips tightly together.

     He forces my mouth apart.

     When he leans over me and grabs my shirt, I hit at his chest.

     He curses and pulls at my top roughly.

     It rips but he doesn't slow.

     All at once I start to shut down. My body starts to numb at the familiarity of this. Soon my brain will repress it, pretend it's not happening. And for a moment, I'm back to a year ago, in a different room with a different person.

     I press my hand to his chest as hard as I can. "Stop," I plead.

     But even though Lionel isn't Trevor, if I close my eyes and forget his face, they could be the same person. Neither one listens when I say no and ask them to stop. They don't seem to mind when I turn to dead weight, no longer fighting, either. And when I stare at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over, they tell me to enjoy it.

     I start to spiral down, down, down, until I feel so low that I don't even care what's happening anymore. I do my best to block out everything with my thoughts, and they're of Trevor. He's not only haunting me in my dreams, but now real life. His words play over in my mind, one of the last things he said to me before he died.

     I had confronted him about the cheating, Lane, the drugs, the rape – everything. I asked him why, what had I done to justify any of it. I had sunk so low, so far from who I was, and everything was relevant to meeting and loving him.

     He laughed, shaking his head as he backed towards the train tracks, about it leave. He was happy despite my words and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

     "Piper," he said.

     I stop staring at the ceiling and close my eyes.

     He shrugged as he said it.

     "You get what you deserve."