Please Understand

Chapter 18: Call It: Mother's Intuition

Nothing made sense anymore. Every time someone spoke to me, I shied away. Their stares burned my skin, but they still couldn't see my big, pleading eyes. When they saw my tangled hair, or tear stained cheeks, they thought I grieved over my lost mother. I missed her, but I grieved for myself in those passing days. Before, I would talk to anyone who would listen, every stranger was my best friend. I would tell Mason everything. Now, one month later, I sat in my room sobbing with a pillow pressed against my face, so no one would hear my blood curdling screams.

There was a light tap on my door, too light to be my dad. After Mom passed, he didn't even come into my room; he would yell from downstairs if he wanted to talk to me, but he hasn't since the day of her funeral. He still didn't know about my abuser, but he wouldn't have believed me if I told him the truth. It was too late to tell anyone because now they would think I made it up. Most of the physical symptoms were long gone. They would think I was seeking attention.

I still didn't look up when the door opened.

"Amelia, what is wrong?" a gentle, motherly voice asked. She wasn't my mother, and I didn't want to listen. No one could ever replace her.

I looked up at her blonde hair and big brown eyes, and wanted to tell her everything. "Mrs. Maxwell?" I murmured as I wiped away my tears, something I was good at by now. Part of me was ready to spill my guts because I thought she would maybe believe me.

She sat on the floor in front of me, and placed grocery bag between us. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" she asked with a knowing look in her eyes. Call It: Mother's Intuition.

My eyes widened. Someone understood! Someone was going to believe me! Mason's mom could see something was bothering me. Maybe she already knew, and maybe she saw all of the warning signs. She was going to help me through this. Everything was going to be okay. He wasn't going to get away with this!

"This is perfectly natural, and I know it's hard to talk to your dad about this sort of thing, so I'm here," she explained with a smile. She pulled out a package of underwear liners, and then came The Talk. Periods are a part of feminine life; they happen to every girl, and I could ask her any questions I needed to.

I held the package in shaking hands, and thought about the blood stained underwear I tried to hide from Dad. He must have found them when he actually did laundry, and asked Mrs. Maxwell to talk to me because he couldn't do it himself. He could't step up to be a parent, so he called her. This woman was never going to be the parent I needed. I needed my dad.

Every month she would ask me if I needed anymore, but I never did. The bleeding stopped, and it didn't start again until I was fourteen. False alarm! Not my period, only a side effect of being molested. Thank goodness! One day, she stopped asking, and I stole money from Dad's wallet to buy them myself. I think he knew, but he never said a word. He would prefer me stealing money than him having to go out and buy them himself.

"Mason? Mason?" Carlie asked as she waved her hand in front of my face.

I stared up at her, and brought my Biology textbook to my chest, the diary hidden inside. "Hey," I mumbled as I blinked away any trace of tears. My voice was thick with sadness, but I knew she wouldn't pick up on that.

She knelt down in front of me with a smile on her glossed lips. Her head tilted to the side as she ran her fingers through my hair. "When was the last time you took a shower, Mason? You don't look good," she whispered with her perfect eyebrows knitted together. Her blonde hair was in long loose curls, and I intently stared at her.

"What is today?" I hesitantly asked as I wished she would stop stroking me with her long fingernails.

She stammered for a second, and looked down at her white and blue cheer-leading uniform. "Friday. Tonight's the big game...did you forget?" she asked as she pulled her hand away from me. "Your hair is really greasy."

When was the last time I took a shower? "It's Friday already? Wow," I murmured with a small smile, like I was trying to play off the whole situation.

She mashed her lips into a thin line, and perched on my desk. "I'm worried about you."

I raised one of my eyebrows, but brought my eyes to meet her green ones. She actually looked sympathetic. "Did you see Amelia in my room the night of the party?" I asked as the tears forced their way back into my eyes.

She looked down to inspect her perfectly manicured nails, and then she looked back up with despair clouding her eyes. "You really don't remember, do you?" she asked, and then she scoffed when I shook my head. "Luke told me you didn't want to tell the police because you didn't want to get into trouble, but you really must have been too drunk to remember. Well, after we had sex, we were getting dressed, and that freak climbed in through your window! She definitely knew what happened because you were buttoning your pants, and then she glared at me, and started freaking out! I told her that you and I were together, and you told her to get out. She is so weird, like, she left this shirt in your drawer, and then she climbed back out the window. Who does that?"

A tear spilled down my cheek, I closed my eyes, and I hung my head, so she couldn't see. "I don't remember any of this. Were my last words to Amelia really get out? Am I the reason she's gone?" I whispered as I forced myself not to cry in front of this horrible girl.

"You can't blame yourself," she murmured, and she paused until I looked at her again. "You didn't know she would disappear after that conversation. Seriously, don't blame yourself." Maybe she wasn't so horrible after all.

I shook my head, and cleared my throat to stop myself from sobbing. "She's gone, and it's all my fault," I murmured as the realization hit me for the millionth time that day. Every day I think the blow will hurt less, but it hurts worse each time I remember this is all my fault.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at me. "Why do you even need her when you have me?" she asked with her attempt at an adorable giggle, and then she flashed a blindingly white smile. "Go take a shower." Her skirt swished when she jumped off the desk, and I watched her walk back to her own seat next to her friends.

I closed my eyes and refused to let the tears stream down my face as the bell rang.