Me Too

31

He didn't know he did anything wrong. That is my defence for him? I didn't say it was because he loved me, or because he had natural urges, no. It was because he didn't know he was raping me. I didn't say anything, so he didn't know anything was wrong. Nothing felt off about it to him.

Sofia had managed to get me off the floor and to our bed twenty minutes later. I laid at the end of the sheets, sprawled like the whore he said I was. My legs couldn't have been any wider apart, anyone would have free access. My shirt could easily be pulled off, I wouldn't fight back. I wouldn't say anything. My moans wouldn't be in pleasure, they'd be pain or natural response to my lungs being pushed on, but nobody would know the difference. Ryan didn't.

Sofia pulled my burned cake out of the oven and somberly threw it out. She didn't bother to open the patio doors to let in fresh air, she was afraid he'd come in through the window. She secured the front lock before she came in the bedroom, and she even locked that latch too. She was bordering on paranoid now. She jumped at every creak, she heard voices that weren't even there.

How could I do that? I scared her. Now she'll spend months not sleeping through the night because she'll be listening for him too. She is terrified of him now. And she is petrified he'll hurt me again. He could come after her if he really wanted to.

She comes in with the bottle of Cabernet and she carried a glass that fit in a stained ring in her nightstand. Alcohol is a natural depressant, it won't make me feel any better, but I am encouraging her to drink so that she forgets I ever said anything. I'd take giving my girlfriend a hangover over having her being skiddish around men. She doesn't deserve it, but the lesser of two evils is the poison in that bottle. She can't be afraid of the world we live in, I could never forgive myself if she suddenly became like this permanently.

I sit up with a lethargic groan as she curls up at the top of the bed. She held out her arms like a toddler wanting to be picked up, she furled in her fingers, motioning me to come lay with her.

"We'll work through this," she whispered, kissing my temple as I flopped onto her body. She pulled the sheets over my legs to my waist and she held onto my shoulder.

I shook my head as she offered me the glass half filled. "It will just make me sick. Maybe later." I felt nauseous as it was; I feel miserable already, I don't need anything to make it worse. Alcohol doesn't fix anything for me.

Sofia took the drink for herself on account of my refusal. She just took little sips until it was nearly gone and she drank the rest in one swallow, setting it down. Once that giant bottle is gone, the last thing from our first date will be thrown in the garbage and she won't remember tonight.

Sofia rubbed my shoulder. "Do you want to talk about something else, get your mind off it?"

"It's been eighteen months, I've wanted my mind off it for a while, but nothing seems to work." My lulling eyes fix on our portrait behind me. "Sofia, how can you still be with me? I'm so damaged."

"Hey, stop that." She rubbed her nose against my turned away neck, catching her lips faintly on my skin. "You are not, Chloe."

Starting a sentence with I feel is how an adult whines. It's just like a kid, except instead of making no sense and pouting, we reveal our every thought to be judged. And we make no sense. "I feel like now that you know, you get why everything was so shaky. I wasn't honest with you and you knew it, we were standing on thin ice from the beginning. This is why. That is what I've been hiding from you this entire time."

"Hiding it would be taking it to your grave, Chloe," Sofia deadpanned, scratching my bicep with her nails. "Babe, I am still processing all of this, but right now I know you kept it because you knew when the right moment to tell me was-"