You're Not Enough

Chapter 52

"Jayda."

I blink my eyes open to see the figure in front of me. "Katie," I say. My eyes open wider. "Katie, are you okay?" I lift off the couch. I forgot she was here. She sits beside me and pushes her red hair back out of her face.

"I'm fine." She says. Her eyes are bigger, and she is still a little pale, not as pale as yesterday, though.

"Are you sure? Do you remember what happened?!" I urge.

"I don't remember much. I don't remember anything, really."

"Do you remember calling me?" I question.

"I called you?" she raises her eyebrows. I don't know if she's telling the truth; how could she not remember calling me? Was it before she got high or after. Did she call me because Travis was about to do something to her, or did she call because Travis drugged her and was about to do something to her?

"Yes, you called me and asked me to help you... and then I asked you where Travis was at; you said he wasn't at the warehouse." She continues to stare at me, questioning what I am saying.

"I don't remember any of that." She looks around. "How did I get here?"

"Caleb and I came and got you from the warehouse."

"Did Travis come back?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"What did he say? Did he see me?"

"He saw you. He said, don't come back."

"What? Why?!" She raises her voice.

"I don't know. I guess because if you died, he would be in a lot of trouble." I say. "Plus, your underage."

" I turn 18 next month." she snarls.

"And 20," I say back to her. "What would your parents say?"

"What would your parents say?" she throws back at me. "You're seriously not going to try to act like you're just this perfect righteous child. Your parents don't know half of the shit you've gotten into. You've been with him too."

I roll my eyes at her comment. Yeah, but I never slept with him.

She stands up from the couch. "I'm going to call him. I need to talk to him."

"What?!" I stand up also. "Katie, you can't. Why would you want to go back there? I got you out."

"I didn't ask you to do that," she says.

"You did!" My hands fly in the air.

"Well, I don't remember." She runs her hands through her hair.

"Exactly, you don't remember anything. How do you know he didn't drug you himself? You don't know what he did to you or why you were unconscious. Why would you want to go back to him?"

She blows her breath. "What are you talking about? He didn't do anything to me."

"There was a condom in the trash. Did you have sex with him?" I ask. She hesitates; her whole face changes. "You don't remember, do you? You didn't consent to it?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" she says. She walks over to the door.

I follow behind her, "Where are you going?" I ask and stand in front of the door, blocking the exit.

"I'm going back to him."

I narrow my eyes at her stupidity. Did she not hear what I just said? "After what I just told you?"

"He wouldn't do something like that."

"He raped you!" I shout.

"He did not rape me. I had sex with him willingly. There's no reason he would rape me; I willingly have sex with him." I gag at the thought. "People are in and out of that warehouse all the time. It probably wasn't even his," she says, still defending him.