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8, that night.

There I was, sitting in a pool of my own tears in my living room while downing bottles of beer and eating ice cream.

I had lost the track of time and all control of my own body. I was just, a drunk mess who was desperately craving food.

And guess what, it sucked.

My parents were out for a meal meaning I was in the house all by myself; alone, lost in my own horrific thoughts.

I will say it again, it fucking sucked.

At one point, I had completely forgotten what I was crying about. But then, as I took another sip of my 10th bottle of beer I had remembered once again, that my life was an undeniable mess.

I didn't pay attention to all the texts and calls I was receiving on my phone. I didn't bother to turn the tv on, or even cook a meal. I just simply took out all the tubs of ice cream I could possibly carry in my two hands, and dug in.

Let's not forget about the beer.

My thoughts were all over the place. I was thinking about that night, about the truth, about my stupidity. I just couldn't stop fucking thinking.

But then, as I took yet another sip of my beer, I heard the door ring. I groaned, standing up shakily. I made my way to over to the corridor, tripping all over the place till I finally made it intact. I opened it slowly, struggling to even grasp the lock only to be greeted by Jackson.

Jackson Young.

"You look like shit," He announced, smirking.

"Thanks," My voice shook, as I attempted to stand still.

He stared at me, "I never thought I'd say this but, Ava Green is drunk!"

"No, I'm not," I attempted to say, which sounded more like a toddler trying to speak its first words.

He made his way into the house confidently like it was his own, closing the door behind him as he examined me. His eyes scanned me thoroughly, starting from the birds nest on my head, to my teddy bear pyjama bottoms.

"Can you stop checking me out? It's annoying," I snapped, as he smirked once more.

"You're drunk," He laughed.

I sat down on the white couch and attempted to take a sip of my beer but unfortunately, Jackson beat me to it. He snatched the bottle away from me and hit it behind the couch, as I groaned in frustration.

"So what's got you so fucked up?" He suddenly asked.

"Maybe the fact that you stole my beer and the fact that you're here?" I replied in annoyance.

"I'm being serious, what the hell happened?" He asked again, this time his voice more demanding.

"I wouldn't usually tell you but I'm drunk, so I think I will. I need to get it off my chest," I replied, not realising what I was actually saying. I was too intoxicated to think of anything else, and so, I decided to trust the guy who was the proper definition of the term mystery.

I hardly knew anything about him, yet my heart told me to spill the guts and so I did.

"Proceed,"

"Well basically, about a year ago something bad nearly happened to me. It did sort of happen but he stopped and I got a chance to get away. And now, I know who the person is. I know the person who did this to me, who nearly..." I started, blinking away my drunk tears.

"Can you tell me what happened? I swear, you can trust me," Jackson replied, showing concern in his tone.

"I was, uh, nearly raped," I respond, before passing out on my couch, without any thought.

-

The next day, I was too emotionally scared to open my eyes. The minute I fell out of my slumber all the memories of the night before came flooding back and I realised; I told Jackson Young about the incident.

I fucking told him.

When I gathered enough courage to actually get up, I realised that Jackson was still in my house. He was fast asleep on the white couch and he had never looked so peaceful.

His shirt was hardly covering his stomach which meant that his abs were shown, and boy, he definitely worked out.

"You have some explaining to do young lady." I heard my mother say, as I turned around in shock.

Honestly, it all looked just as it seemed. First of all, there was a sleeping boy in my house. Second of all, there was about 20 bottles of beer scattered on the floor and thirdly, I had the worst hangover ever.

"This is not what it looks like. I, uh, found out who the person was, last night. The person who did this to me," I sighed, fixing my messy hair.

My mother looked at me in sadness, her eyes filled with shock and something I couldn't describe.

She was angry.

And this time I could tell, she wasn't angry at me but at the person who did it to me.

The person who frightened me to the core.

~

anyone think they know who the person was??