Making It (On Hold Indefinitely)

3.3

3.3

Five months probation.

That's what he got. Five freaking months of probation. That was a slap on the freaking wrist compared to what I've just been through.

Without Olivia to testify against him there was no way to sway the judge into a more harsher, stricter, punishment. Even with the rape kit as evidence. But with Calvin's parents money I'm sure he had enough to bribe the judge into giving him such slap on the wrist. If only I could prove it.

"He'll get his comeuppance," Cassidy reassures me once we're back in Brooke and I's apartment.

The three of sit cross legged on the couch, Gilmore Girls quietly playing on the tv and a tub of breyers vanilla bean ice cream tucked in my lap. I'm not in the mood for much else. Feeling emotionally and physically drained from today's events. Also sick due to the fact I had spent the day reliving the worst part of last year which dug up memories from a similar trial two years ago.

"I told dad I didn't want to press charges," I murmur, dropping my gaze from the television I wasn't paying attention too and instead dig my spoon into the ice cream. "I told him it was fine, that I'd be fine." When the ice cream doesn't budge initially, I stab my spoon into it. Twice.

"He just wanted to protect you, Char, do his job." Brooke rests her hand over mine and her words make sense. But it didn't stop the little ball of rage from swirling around in the middle of my torso.

I bite my tongue to keep from saying something I'd regret and just nod my head, scooping up my stabbed out bits. As the flavor melts and dances against my tongue I relax my shoulders. Slowly I try to release the anger, push it and the thoughts of today's trial away. It lasts for only a second. A sadness filling my chest as I look down at the mutilated ice cream tub, no longer wanting it but someone else.

"I want Taylor," I mutter mostly to myself and hand over the tub of ice cream. Neither of them stop me as I stand from my spot on the couch between them, tug down my pajama shorts and make my way back to my room.

I fall into my bed and suddenly feel the weight of my exhaustion. Before I let sleep take over me I tuck my phone from beneath my pillow and unlock it. Muscle memory brings me to Taylor and I's text message thread. With heavy lids I type out;

• I miss you •

I wait until the message sends completely before locking my phone and dropping my head into my pillow.

• — • — • — •

Someone is trying to move me in the bed. The second I realize my body jerks in a panic only to have them incase their arms around me and still me completely. It doesn't take more than a second for his Irish spring scent to waft up my nose. There's a lingering hint of nicotine but it's faint, left over from last year.

He holds me. Arms wrapped around me. Breath whispering across my temple. Chest brushing against my back. He says nothing and that's okay. I don't need him to say anything.

With a familiar sting in my eyes I twist and turn in his hold until I'm facing him. Our eyes meet briefly before I bury my face into his chest and allow myself to cry.

Taylor pulls me in closer, muscles tight around me as he rests his chin on my head. I do my best to wrap my arms around him and curl his shirt into my fingers, letting the tears fall.

I was so tired of crying, but I hadn't allowed myself to shed a single tear today. I hadn't allowed myself to feel anything. If I let the hurt in, if I let the anger in, then he won. Unfortunately, none of that matters now because he won anyway and I was just holding back a dam of emotions for no reason. I was sick of it.