Someone I Used to Know

by Patty Blount

  “You’re letting your hair grow. You’re wearing makeup. And you’re here with me. Alone.”

  I look down and stir my hot chocolate. “Yeah. I got dressed and went outside.” I swirl a finger in the air. “Yay, me. I’m a real superhero.”

  He rocks his head from side to side. “Um, well…you kind of are, you know. First, coming up with that whole Raise the BAR idea? Recording that video? And these headlines? You’re like…” He trails off, spreading his hands apart while he searches for the right word. “You’re unstoppable.”

  And then guilt compels me to come clean. “Sebastian, I’m not any of those things. Not unstoppable, not a fighter.” I put my cup down and reveal the ugly truth. “I’m scared like literally all the time.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But you do it all anyway, Ashley. See? Unstoppable.” He stands up and pecks me on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  As he heads to the restroom, I think about everything he said. Unstoppable. Shaking my head, I sip my cocoa and look out the window. Blaine Boulevard is busy tonight. There’s some traffic and lots of pedestrians.

  “Get you anything else, honey?” The server, a pretty woman with her dark hair scraped back in a bun, smiles down at me.

  “Um, no. We’re fine. Thanks.”

  Sebastian returns as she slips the check onto our table.

  “Thanks.” He smiles at the server and slides back into the booth.

  I lean over the table and squeeze his hand. “You’re pretty awesome. Any other guy would have shrugged me off and gone back to video games by now, but not you. I really love that, Sebastian.”

  The pink tinge on his neck turns to red and climbs all the way up to his hairline. “It’s no big.”

  “It shouldn’t be, but it is. It’s a huge deal. I hate that it’s even a deal at all, but it is. Justin just kind of pats me on the head like it’s adorable that I’ve found a way to cope, and don’t even get me started on Derek. I didn’t even have to ask you. You just…stepped up. Do you have any idea how special that is?” And how special you are? I wish I had the guts to say that last part out loud.

  He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. And it kind of pisses me off.”

  I blink. “Why?”

  “Come on, Ashley,” Sebastian says, giving me side-eye. “You have to have noticed I’m not exactly popular, you know?”

  Oh. My heart contracts painfully. “Do you want that? To be popular?”

  He looks out the window for a few seconds and shakes his head. “Nah, not really. But I wish people would just back off, you know?”

  So people are hassling him…because of me? Great. I don’t say anything for a long time. Neither does he. Another piece of my heart cracks, so I suck in a deep breath and plunge in. “Go home, Sebastian. I’ll call my mom to come get me.”

  His face snaps up at this, eyes stuck on mine, confused and worried. “What? Why?”

  “We don’t have to do this.”

  Now his eyes sizzle with annoyance. “Okay, I’m forced to repeat myself. What?”

  Sighing dramatically, I struggle to be patient. “It’s okay. You’re off the hook. We break up, and they’ll stop hassling you. It’s not like we’re in love or anything.” There’s this moment, a split second, when I swear his eyes flash with the truth, and it hits me hard enough to knock the breath out of me. But it’s gone before I can be sure I really saw it. In its place is barely restrained fury.

  It takes him a minute, a full minute, to speak, and when he does, his voice is tight and icy enough to send shivers down my back.

  “First, I don’t want to break up with you. And second, it’s not okay. It’s so far from okay, I don’t even know what to say. And third, did I mention I don’t want to break up with you?”

  I don’t reply because I figure it’s rhetorical, but when he gives me the hand gesture that says Say something!, I realize he really does expect an answer. “I don’t want to break up, either.” That’s pure truth.

  But instead of relaxing or laughing it off, he gets madder. “Then what the hell did you bring it up for?” His voice isn’t icy anymore. Now it’s so hot, I swear I smell sulfur.

  Helpless to give him anything but the truth, I blurt it all out. “Because I don’t want you punished for being with me. I can’t stand seeing you suffer, Sebastian. I’ve been through it all already. I know what people say about me. I know what they think, and I’m numb to it now. But I don’t want you… I can’t stand it if you’re hurt—”

  “This hurt, Ashley,” he cuts in, waving a hand between us. “This, right here, cut like razors.”

  Oh, hell. “I’m…I’m sorry. I said that to make things easier—”

  He throws up one hand. “I get that. But I don’t want things easier. I don’t want them different. I don’t want you gone. You’re not some kind of duty. I like you. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. I like you,” he repeats. “A lot.” He glares at me across the table and suddenly curses. “God, Ashley. Don’t you get it?” There’s that look in his eyes again. The one that takes my breath away.

  Holy crap.

  “Um. Good. I like you, too. A lot.”

  After a minute, his anger fades. I like watching his face as his color evens out and his breathing slows. Finally, he smiles at me. “We should go. Movie’s starting in fifteen.”

  I get up and start zipping my jacket, while Sebastian heads to the cashier to pay our bill. I watch somebody walk by, hands stuffed in his pockets, and chin tucked into his jacket for warmth and think, Him. I press my face to the window and look again, but it’s okay. It’s not Vic.

  It’s not.

  “Ashley? You okay? What’s wrong?”

  I check the window one more time and shake off the thought. “Nothing. Just thought I saw something.”

  Sebastian offers me his hand, and we leave the diner, the cold dark night somehow feeling not as cold or as dark as long as he’s next to me.

  • • •

  Inside the theater, we buy tickets and some treats and settle back just in time for the previews. It’s cold inside the theater, so I leave my jacket on and sit back. Sebastian leans over and whispers in my ear, “Any time you feel uncomfortable, unsafe, or icky, say the word, and we’re outta here.”

  My lips twitch. “Icky?”

  His eyes roll in the low light, looking almost spooky. “You know what I mean.” He holds out his hand, so I slip mine inside it and turn my gaze to the screen, feeling warm and safe.

  Yeah. Safe.

  We munch popcorn, sip from water bottles, and share M&M’s while Matt Damon evades some bad guys in one preview, and Chris Pratt flexes in another. I shiver once when the lights go down, but Sebastian’s hand tightens on mine. I raise our hands to my lips and kiss the back of his, and I’m rewarded with a sweet smile that glows under the light of the screen.

  The movie is good…the latest superhero adventure. There’s plenty of action, drama, and impossible decisions to satisfy me. When the house lights come up, Sebastian stands up and suddenly scoops up all our trash, throws an arm around me, and practically shoves me out of our row. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Sebas, chill out.”

  “No. Let’s go. Right now.”

  I turn to study him. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are hard.

  “You wanna tell me why you’re so pissed off at me?”

  His eyes snap to mine. “I’m not pissed at you. I want us to leave now.” He pushes me again.

  Fine!

  I have to jog to keep up with him. He leads me down the stairs that run the sides of the theater, out into the lobby, and back outside to the street. He’s still clutching our trash in his other hand, and now we’re apparently supposed to jog down the block to where he parked the car.

  I don’t think so. I dig in my heels and pull back from him. He stops short and whi
ps around, eyes scanning the entire street before landing back on me.

  That sets off alarms. My heart starts to pound, and I feel the adrenaline surge. I spin and search for whatever’s got him so worked up, but I know.

  I already know.

  When my gaze snaps to the figure standing by the theater’s entrance, the bottom falls out of what’s left of my world because it’s Victor Patton staring back at me.

  22

  Derek

  NOW

  LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK

  I stuff another pair of socks into my bag, zip it shut, and collapse onto my bed with a sigh.

  In a rare appearance, Julian lifts his eyes from his laptop and grins at me while he lounges on his bed. “Well, someone’s sure happy to be heading home.”

  “Delirious.” Inspiration strikes. “How about you? You heading home? You could join us, you know. If you don’t have plans.”

  “Not a chance in hell, Lawrence.” He types for a few seconds, then looks back at me. “Did you decide what you’re gonna speak about at that GAR rally?”

  Wincing, I shake my head. “Nope. I talked to Ted about it at our last meeting, and he was pretty damn useless.”

  “Want my advice?”

  I nod eagerly. “God, yes.”

  Julian slides the laptop to the bed and sits up. “Just be you.”

  “Oh, gee, that’s helpful,” I say, hoping the sarcasm drips all over his side of the room.

  “I’m serious, man. You have lots of stuff you can share, and not all of it’s about your sister.”

  Frowning, I try to think of even one idea, but come up empty.

  “Take Tasha, for example.”

  “Who’s Tasha?”

  “Tasha’s that fine-looking cheerleader who said no to me so she could hang with Brian Kelly.”

  I shake my head, still blank.

  “She’s the girl your homie Aaron Dreschler threatened before you shut that shit down.”

  I snap up straight. “You know her?”

  “Do now. Didn’t then. She’s cool, man. Really sweet. Every time I think about the shit you heard that punk-ass say…” He trails off and shudders. “I say you start there.”

  Yeah, that’s really good. I could show the stats we were given at our first GAR meeting from there. “Julian, you are a genius.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” He flashes another grin.

  I grab my laptop and start making some notes.

  23

  Ashley

  I also wonder what I’ll do if I see him again. Run, freeze where I stand, lose control of my bladder? I’ve done all of these things. One of the worst parts about what Victor Patton did to me is I never know how I’ll react from one day to the next. Little things, things that shouldn’t be a big deal, suddenly are and trigger in me violent reactions that frighten my family and wreck me. I don’t belong to me anymore.

  —Ashley E. Lawrence, victim impact statement

  NOW

  BELLFORD, OHIO

  My mouth falls open, and I’m paralyzed. All I can do is stand there, inert, the self-defense classes obliterated from my memory.

  He raped me.

  And he’s standing in front of me.

  He raped me.

  I did everything I was supposed to do. The rape kit. The trial.

  And they let him out of prison, and now, he’s at the same place, at the same time as me. Oh my God. Blood roars in my ears, and my heart gallops so hard, every beat feels like a hammer strike. Dimly, I’m just barely aware that Sebastian is still next to me, screaming at me. I can’t hear. I can’t think. I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t remember what to do, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe.

  “Ashley!”

  He’s suddenly right in front of me, fingers digging into my shoulders, shaking me. “Look at me. Only at me.”

  Blinking, I gasp in a deep breath that burns all the way down to my lungs. Bright lights zigzag on the edges of my vision. I recognize the anxiety attack signs, and something inside me snaps.

  Not this time.

  I beat it back, forcing my lungs not to gulp in air like it’s water in a desert and instead do the inhale, hold, exhale, hold, repeat pattern. The bright lights dim, and when I can see clearly again, I open my mouth to tell Sebastian I’m okay, but the most irrational and completely ridiculous urge to giggle bashes me. It’s absurd. The whole concept of safety, I mean. I thought I was safe, sitting in a dark movie theater with my football-playing boyfriend and a few self-defense classes under my belt, only it turns out that the guy who raped me is in the same building, so now I have to convince my boyfriend that I’m okay, except now I know that safe is an even bigger lie than justice.

  And then a new thought shoves that one aside, and instead of wanting to giggle, I want to cry. Sebastian…he’d been acting strange since the movie ended. He…oh God.

  He knew.

  I take a giant step back.

  His lips tighten into a line, and he holds up both hands. “Ashley—”

  “You knew?” I finally manage to squeak out. “You knew he was here?”

  Sebastian shakes his head. “Not until the lights came up at the end.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He keeps shaking his head. Finally, he says, “God, Ashley. I didn’t know what it would do to you—seeing him. I was afraid you’d freeze up, have an anxiety attack, burst into tears, or maybe attack him. I didn’t know! I didn’t want you to have to go through any of that.” Sebastian puts his arm around my shoulder, and as we walk to the car, he keeps looking over his own shoulder. “I wasn’t sure how I’d react, either.”

  I stop walking. “You?”

  He urges me to keep moving. “Yeah. I seriously think I could…you know…kill him.”

  I don’t know how to respond to this. Neither of us says nothing until we’re in the car. Sebastian hits the door locks, starts the car, and takes the first turn a bit too fast, making the tires squeal. We’re silent all the way back to my house, which suits me just fine, because I feel raw, like an overloaded circuit about to pop.

  “I’m sorry, Ash. I’m so sorry. I thought we’d be fine. I never expected him…shit.” He slams a hand on the steering wheel, and I jolt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says, frustration clear in his voice.

  He did scare me. But so did seeing Vic tonight.

  And neither of those are the reason I’m upset right now.

  It’s all those things Sebastian said at the diner, about being unstoppable. What would he say, what would he think if he knew how everything inside me just shut down—shut off when I saw Vic? All I want to do is go home, lock the doors, and hide under my covers for the rest of my life. I hate that. I hate that after all this—after Raise the BAR, after the trial, and after everything else that’s happened, I’m no better than the first day after it happened.

  How the hell am I supposed to do this for the rest of my life?

  “Ash, you’re scaring me now. Talk to me, please.”

  I can’t. I can’t even lie this time. So I say nothing.

  24

  Derek

  NOW

  LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK

  I’m standing outside of Brittany’s dorm building on Wednesday morning, bags on the ground at my feet, hands shoved into my pockets. I’m cold all over. It’s the kind of cold that only comes from dread. I dread seeing Britt, dread going home, dread seeing my parents, and I have no words that come close to describing how much I dread seeing my sister.

  “You look like hell.”

  I lift my eyes and find Britt standing in front of me. I never heard her approach. Her words sting. She looks amazing. She always does. For a tiny fraction of a second, I thaw because she’s with me.

  And then I remember, I fucked th
at up, too.

  I swing my bags to my shoulders and then grab hers. She gives me a look, but I can’t tell if it’s gratitude or annoyance. We walk to the train station. It takes about twenty minutes. By the time we get there, I’m sweating, but I’m still cold.

  “I’m glad you decided to come with,” she says, and I can’t stop the surprised look I give her. “What? You think I’m lying?”

  “I thought you pretty much hated me,” I say, and my voice sounds weird. Like a car that hasn’t been driven in weeks, all rusty and slow.

  She sighs and grabs my hands in hers. “Your hands are freezing.”

  She rubs my hands between hers. It actually kind of hurts, but I let her do it because it feels so good to have her touch me again. Suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I grab her and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight and feeling way too close to tears.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I am really scared to go home,” I admit.

  “Derek, you need to talk to her,” Brittany says. “I know you’ve tried, but you have to try harder. You have to convince her to listen this time. This is slowly killing you.”

  I keep my face pressed against her hair. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  Maybe.

  I’ve been doing a ton of thinking and finally came up with a plan. But I don’t share it with Britt yet. She’d only try to talk me out of it.

  The train arrives, and we climb on board. It takes us over an hour to get to Jamaica Station, where we transfer to the AirTrain to JFK Airport.

  It’s the fastest hour of my life. Britt says little on the train and even less while we endure the security check-in at the airport. The line is ridiculous, and I take a deep breath and prepare to stand here for the rest of my natural life, but like the train ride, it moves faster than I want it to.

  We don’t talk much at the gate. We don’t talk much on the flight. I spend most of the trip making more notes for that GAR talk I volunteered for—the one at Ohio State. If Brittany’s reading anything on my screen, she’s not mentioning it, and soon, I kind of forget she’s even there because I’m so into this. I’ve got a story now, a really great story.