Zora

Chapter Twenty-Four

Pacing outside Zora's room, Terrance contemplated walking inside. After the two arrived home, Zora ran up the stairs and locked herself in her room. He knew she was in a vulnerable state, so he figured it would be better to leave her alone for the time being. While he was worried, he didn't think much about what could happen. He knew she didn't self harm, and he knew she wouldn't want to start now because of one bad thing that happened in New York compared to all the things that happened in Georgia. He figured that part of her was safe for now.

But she was still vulnerable. Someone hurt her, molested her and possibly attempted to rape her. She was all alone, high, and scared for her life. After what happened, he didn't think she should be all alone. For all her knew, something horrible could have occured on the other side of the door. He didn't want her to wallow in her suffering.

Mustering up his courage, he knocked on the door and received a soft, "Come in." Walking inside, he found Zora seated on the edge of her bed, her hands placed equal distance away from her body on either side, and she stared at the floor with vacant eyes.

Terrance knew she would be in shock, but her eyes were completely dead. It was heartbreaking. As he walked up to her, his eyes glanced towards a semi open desk drawer, the same one she locked her pills in. Jerking his head to face her, the same dead expression from before was in her eyes, and there was no doubt in his mind that she took a pill.

"Zora," he whimpered.

"The memories wouldn't stop. Even as I remember them now, I can't seem to feel any sadness I normally would. It's better to forget, that way I won't have to remember," she stoically spoke.

"Yeah, well that is the definition of forgetting." Grabbing the pills from her desk, he shoved them into his pocket and slammed the drawer shut. He knelt in front of Zora and asked, "How are you feeling?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want to talk about it? I'll always be here to listen."

Her eyes suddenly flickered up to him, causing him to jump back in surprise. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right. I don't," he agreed. "I have never gone through what you have, and I'm so sorry you had to go through it."

"Don't be," she whispered. "It wasn't your fault. Nothing was ever your fault."

"While it may not have been my fault, I'm still sorry you had to go through it."

"It wasn't even the first time it happened," she admitted. "I'd been sexually assaulted before."

Terrance jumped up onto the bed and held her tightly.

"There was a night when I was walking home from school, and a group of kids jumped me. They called me a tranny, a slut, a whore. And they each held me down as one of them began to masturbate on me, and they forced me to stare directly into his eyes as he did."

"Zora," he whimpered.

The feelings rolled over her body like waves on a shore. She couldn't handle the deep feeling of sadness that overwhelmed her. She quickly jumped up from her bed to run to her desk, but Terrance grabbed her and pulled her into her arms. He held her close, petting her hair softly as she blubbered.

Tears began to fall from his own eyes, and he felt a sort of pain he never imagined he would feel. To know his sister had to go through something he would never wish upon his greatest enemy was heartbreaking. He wanted to fly down to Georgia and kill everyone who dared laid their hands on her. She was his sister, and he promised to love and protect her no matter what. He felt like a failure for letting her down.

"Please," she begged. "I have to forget. It's the only way to move on. The memories of my life keep piling up in my head, and they knock me down. I can't stand the suffering and madness anymore, so yes, I take pills to end my suffering. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Remember," he whispered. "You can't move on without remembering. You cannot force yourself to forget. Soon, new memories will come in and brighten your world until the memories of the horrid past become just that, a memory. You have to remember to forget."

"Remembering is too painful."

Pulling her closer into his arms, he kissed the top of her head gently. "I know. Remembering is hard." He buried his face in her hair as he remembered too. Remembered the way it felt to watch his mom succumb to drugs. Remembered the way it felt when she died. Remembered the words his father spat at him as he came out as gay. Remembered the pain of waking up to find his father left in the middle of the night and believing it was all his fault for so long. Remembering was hard, and it was important to cry the memories out so they'd stop hurting. Because without pain, how is anyone living?