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Chapter Thirteen

"M-Mom..."

"MEREDITH!"

Holding my body, I felt my mother's arms wrap around me when the door opened. Tears streamed down my face quickly, and I hugged her back, sobbing loudly against her shoulder. She didn't mind as my tears wet her shirt, my hands grabbing fistfuls of the fabric and my body clinging to her tightly. Papa came rushing from the kitchen, seeing Mom holding me in her arms as my clothes hung from my frame, loose and messy because of my struggle against Dexter.

"Honey, what happened?" Mom asked, her hand stroking my hair.

I shook my head, crying even more when I felt imaginary hands crawling all over my body. Even with my mother, her touch was enough to spark paranoia in me, and I quickly pulled away from her, wiping away my tears with my hands. I can't.. even be held by my mother. Papa looked at me worriedly as I held myself, clutching my body.

"Meredith, what's going on?" He questioned.

I shook my head once again. "I-I can't.. say anything yet..." I looked up at my parents, tears blurring their appearances. I clenched my jaw to keep from breaking down, my throat tight. "I.. can't right now. I-I'm sorry."

Quickly, I pushed past my parents. I felt Papa try to get a hold of me, but Mom held him back, frowning as she said softly, "She needs time. Let's give her that, alright..?" I didn't try to hear his response, instead, rushing up the stairs. Maybe it was the after-trauma of what happened, but I couldn't stop feeling the unwanted hands on my body. They were terrifyingly everywhere.

I can't get rid of them.

Running into my room, I slammed my bedroom door shut, tossing my backpack onto my bed and falling into the beanbag chair Papa had gotten me for my desk. The room was dark, even through my tears, and it only poured gas into the burning flames of anxiety in my stomach. Get off of me. Curling up into a ball, I cried into my arms, my knees pulled towards my torso. Don't touch me. I heard my phone ringing, as well as my computer playing the small tune whenever someone called me on Skype. Whenever Lukas would call me.

Let me go.

I broke down with hands of ghosts on my body, ignoring Lukas's calls as the blue light of my computer screen illuminated my dark room.

~~~

I trudged downstairs, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. I had already taken a shower, and Mom and Papa had called me down for dinner. I decided I would tell them, but I didn't know how. "Be a good little girl and don't tell anyone, alright~..?" I shivered a little as Dexter's voice echoed in my head, making me hug myself as goosebumps appeared on my arms. Mom was sitting at the dining table, and Papa was just placing my plate down. The two looked up to see me at the foot of the stairs, and I smiled wearily, my eyes red from crying. I noticed them become alert at this.

"I'll tell you guys, but just be patient, okay..?"

My parents nodded.

We ate in silence that night, a dinner of what would have been me complaining about school and my parents laughing at my stupid complaints. I hated it; being able to hear every little sound was creeping me out. After eating quickly, the plates were cleared off the table, and my parents sat in front of me, ready to hear my explanation for coming back home crying my eyes out of their sockets. I fidgeted in my seat, trying to form words as my voice stuck in my throat.

How do I explain to them that I was sexually assaulted?

My lips thinned into a straight line on my face. Thinking about it, I grabbed a pen from the counter and a little sheet of paper, confusing my parents. I looked up at them, my eyes glassy and threatening to spill when remembering the horror story that occurred just two hours ago.

"I can't bring myself to say it out loud," I explained to them quietly.

They understood.

Scrawling down my thoughts, it took me a while before I could actually write it without trembling or messing up the spelling. Scribbles were dotted on the paper here and there as my mind jumbled about, but I slipped the paper towards my mother, who took it slowly. Papa leaned over, reading it over her shoulder. I saw their eyes widen.

"I was sexually assaulted."

It took me five minutes to write four words. Those words were one of the hardest ones I had ever written in my life, especially in such a context that was concerning. My parents looked up at me, their gazes peeled away from the paper and glued onto me intensely. Mom's eyes began to water up as she sat frozen in her chair. Papa's hands gripped her shoulders tightly, his reaction fueled by immense anger. Standing up straight, he looked down at me, his hair shadowing his eyes as they glowed intensely.

"Who was the one who hurt you?"

My heart jolted at his hostile tone, almost as if he was going to kill someone.

"D-Dexter..." I whispered under my breath, stuttering from fear of my father and fear of getting hurt by Dexter if I uttered his name. "The friend I made earlier this week."

"He's no longer your friend," Papa responded roughly. I nodded obediently at his words, silently agreeing. Damn right he's not. "Watch your mother. I'm going to the police station a few blocks down to report this to Chief Morgan."

Again, I nodded.

It hadn't even been a second until he was out the door in a flashing green blur. Standing up from my chair, I held onto my mother's shoulders, who was crying into her arms at the dining table. Urging her to walk up the stairs, I guided her into my parents' bedroom and helped her onto the bed. The rest of the night was spent helping her cope with what was supposed to be for me to suffer.

I'm so sorry, Mom.

This is my fault.