Lucy Lahey trusted the man she was dating, and it turned out to be her biggest mistake. Reeling in the aftermath of a rape that stole not only her virginity, but her confidence, her love for MMA, her clarity and more, Lucy now finds herself in Jerse...
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Important author note
I've already seen a few comments about Lucy and how she's awful for the way she's behaving and I want to address it now, rather than later. I understand that for a lot of people, the thought of disrespecting your parents is an absolute no, but I also need people to understand the impact severe trauma can have on teenagers.
Under normal circumstances, teenagers struggle to figure out their own emotions, let alone adding a sexual assault on top of that.
Please consider that other survivors could read your comments and perhaps they relate to Lucy, perhaps they harbor excessive guilt for alienating the people they love. Your comments aren't always just directed at the MC.
It took me eleven years to tell anyone about my rape. It was writing this book that gave me the strength to come forward and tell my mom about it. It opened a lot of conversations about my behavior as a teenager and I still struggle with guilt for the way I treated my mom because I didn't know how to cope with what had happened to me.
Please leave room for empathy and growth during this book. I really love and appreciate the comments and feedback you leave, but comments like 'she's a shit daughter' could be harmful to more than just myself and Lucy.
Thank you my loves. x
Dad's most recent townhouse is in Jersey City. I haven't been to see him since he lived in midtown Manhattan.
The front door is a short set of steps from the sidewalk. No driveway, no distance between the doorbell and the public, it would have been the perfect place to play ding dong ditch when I was a kid. The problem here, is that everyone has a camera attached to the awning above the door.
The streets are lined with classic lamp posts and tall trees. After unloading my bags from the car service, because dad doesn't drive here, we head inside.
It's a nice place. Upon entrance, there's a staircase directly in front of us, a living area to the right with leather sofas in front of street view windows. The kitchen is off the living area, modern, crisp, spacious and bright. From the kitchen, is a stair case that heads downstairs.
"The bottom floor is yours," dad says, standing with his hand on the rail. "I'm upstairs," he gestures to the stair case by the front door. "Uh, go ahead and get settled in. You need anything, something to eat?"
It's eight at night. Mom never served dinner later than six. But I shrug and wave my phone. "I'll order some Uber eats."
"Oh, right. Cool."
"You want anything?"
"No," he stretches his arm, lifting his sleeve to reveal his watch.
