Saving Barrette

by Shey Stahl

  And if I did get those questions, I had a panic attack and had to basically run away. A month later, I moved to Seattle and into a dorm. I thought being in college I wouldn’t have to deal with any of the questions because who would know, right? Big city. College. Why would anyone care?

  For the most part, that’s exactly how it was. No one knew anything. Until the panic attacks were a weekly occurrence and my therapist suggested I join a support group. From there, it got out that I was, in fact, a victim of sexual assault. But still, no one has ever said anything to my face.

  Until….

  “That’s her, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you believe it?”

  Until those are the whispers following me as I’m walking to class. I don’t know who they are, but I imagine they’re girls. Sounds like a girl. High-pitched. Maybe a cheerleader?

  “I don’t know. I can’t see Roman needing to rape a girl. Look at him. Wouldn’t you just willingly spread your legs for him?”

  “I know, right?” another girl gasps. “Seriously, so hot.”

  Then they laugh. Like it’s funny.

  “I heard she’s dating Asa Lawson.”

  Now I know who it is. The way Asa Lawson rolls off her tongue, like she’d do anything to be with him. Eva. Turning on my heel, I face them, the bitter cold wind of the morning slapping my face. “For your information,” I spit, smiling at them with a sudden edge I didn’t know I had and quite possibly want to bottle up and store. “I am dating Asa Lawson. He’s mine, and you can stop your fucking games. He’s always been mine. Not yours.” I pause and point to Bethany, her sidekick. “Or yours, or anyone elses. He doesn’t belong to this school as your legend of football. He’s mine. All fucking mine.” I have no idea where the words are coming from, just that they’re pouring out of me like I’m speaking in tongues and have no control over what comes next. I take a breath, gasping, unsure what’s coming next. They stare, wide-eyed, slack-mouthed.

  Eva’s the first to speak, blinking rapidly and adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” That’s all she says, and then walks away. I want to run after her and rip her bleached hair from her head, but I’m not going to do that because everyone is staring at me. And I do mean everyone.

  I’m a good person. I am. Until I’m given a reason to show my evil side. And these girls, they’re bringing out everything bitter inside me.

  I knew my life would change forever when I filed that police report. A new kind of reality—other than Eva and her friends—I hadn’t prepared for it to hit me Monday morning in class.

  The one I had with Roman.

  Part of me thought he wouldn’t come to class. Why would he? He knows I’m in it.

  But that wouldn’t be Roman. He’s a shithead and specializes in making everyone uncomfortable. The moment he enters the room, bile floods my mouth. Looking at him makes me physically sick to think of what he did. In my dreams, he has a face now, the face of a villain playing the leading role in my nightmare.

  Gossip and wandering stares follow him as he pushes past the doors, entering the room and casting a lingering glance my way. He sits next to me, leaning into my shoulder. “Drop the fucking charges, Barrette,” he seethes.

  A shiver works its way through me, despair and anxiety battering me as I contemplate if going to the police was the right thing to do. I don’t know what to say. Trembling takes root in my hands and I drop the pen I had been holding.

  Panic creeps up my throat, my heart pumps wildly in my chest. My fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and I don’t know if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, or if I’m remembering details about the night. I move my gaze from the teacher’s to Roman’s.

  His jaw clenches and a malicious grin slips over his mouth. “Is that a no?”

  Panic bubbles inside me, but I refuse to let this get to me. “If you’re so innocent, why’d you lie?”

  To my surprise, he laughs. I want him to suffer. I want him to pay for what he’s done. He runs a hand through his hair, a few loose strands falling over his forehead. “I didn’t lie. We’ve had a relationship.”

  I’m trapped in his gaze, completely immobilized. I can’t wrap my head around his reaction, or mine, let alone tell myself to move. I’m paralyzed. “No, we didn’t. We were friends until you raped me.”

  At the word, he averts his gaze to the teacher, but his words hold a menacing edge I’ve never ever thought I’d hear from him. “What makes you think you didn’t ask for it?” And then his eyes slide to mine.

  My body locks up, my hands clenching my sides. Rage hits my chest and the hatred in my eyes radiates through me.

  Amusement dances in his eyes, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. “You did. You fuckin’ begged me.”

  “To stop,” I shout, causing the entire class to draw their attention to us. I want them looking. I want them to know who he really is.

  “Well played.” His lips pull into an arrogant smile, his voice dropping. “But I don’t remember it that way. Guess it’s your word against mine.”

  “Fuck you,” I lash without thinking and slap him across the face. Nausea churns in my gut, my spine rigid with tension. I’m so sick of this shit with him. I won’t let him manipulate me.

  His cheek reddens, his jaw locking like he wants so badly to smash my head into the table. He smirks and gestures between us with a flick of his wrist. “You already did, or so you say.”

  “I’m not dropping the charges. In fact—” I stand and push away from him. “—I can’t wait to face you in court and see the look on your face when your entire future is taken away from you because of what you took from me.”

  And then I stalk away without another glance. My hands shake as I dial Asa’s number and press the phone to my ear. He answers on the first ring. “You okay?”

  “I need you.” I can barely get the words out I’m shaking so bad. “Right now.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” he rushes to say, and I can hear the noise in the background of his professor asking why he’s answering his phone in class. “Send me your location.”

  I hang up and send him a pin drop to where I’m at. He’s right, he’s there in a few minutes, just enough time for Roman to walk out of the classroom with Codey and two linemen flanking his side.

  Though I’m not sure calling him to defend me had been my intention, I knew he’d protect me and get in Roman’s face. It’s who Asa is to his core. He fights for what he believes in.

  Reality slaps me in the face. I shouldn’t have called him. I should have walked away.

  Any minute I know I’m going to throw up. I just know it. It’s rising and rising, and the moment I see Roman approach Asa, the anger takes over. I don’t want him anywhere near him. Suddenly, I understand Asa’s need to protect me because I feel it then. It pulses through me like the need to breathe does. Natural and effortless.

  I step toward them, my pulse ringing in my ears.

  “Stay away from her,” Asa warns, positioning himself between the two of us.

  A crowd forms outside the building, Roman and Asa face-to-face on the stairs. “Why?” Roman asks, smirking as he runs his hand through his hair, never leading on that inside, his world is crumbling over the truth he’s afraid of being revealed. He puffs his chest out. “You gonna stop me?”

  The sounds of hushed conversations and the thump of my heart tickles my ears. I wet my dry lips, urging myself to step forward and stop them. Asa can’t touch him. My body is screaming at my head as a violent battle starts up. Move! I scream at myself, but I’m rooted in place by my fear.

  “You’re going to pay for all your lies,” Asa spits at him. He glances at me briefly and though I know I shouldn’t think this, he’s devastatingly beautiful when he’s angry. With his heavy brow pinched together, he turns back to Roman. “And your betrayal.”

  Tension bleeds into the air as they face-off, two childhood friends, their bond destroyed by a lie. My heart aches that I’m the r
eason for it. I put myself in a compromising position, and Roman, he took what wasn’t his. That’s the bottom line here. I can’t blame myself any longer. It’s not fair to me, or anyone else who’s ever said no and their denial went unheard.

  Pain slams into me and I know I have to gather the strength to stand up for myself and Asa. I can’t let him touch Roman. They’re yelling at one another, their harsh words inflicting pain their fists wish to follow up on, but they both know what happens if they do. I reach for Asa, and he jerks his head up, his eyes burning with undisguised rage. He steps back, forcibly trying to calm himself down. Suddenly we’re surrounded by members of the team, and I notice Terrell first. “What’d up, A?” he asks, coolly glancing at Asa and then Roman. “Ya cool?”

  Asa shakes his head, unable to reply

  Roman groans, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus Christ, mind your own fucking business, man.”

  “He’s my business.” Terrell steps toward Roman, his thick massive frame towering over Roman’s. “And she’s my fuckin’ business. So I suggest you get to steppin’.”

  Roman fixes his dark eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything. He backs up a step, smiling. “Keep your distance, B,” he taunts, his eyes ablaze with a new kind of heat. His eyes flick to Asa and he leans in over Codey and Waylon who are trying to pull him away. “That pussy was mine first.”

  That does it. Those are the words that get Roman flat on his ass. Not from who you think though. Believe it or not, it’s Terrell who sends his fist into Roman’s face. And I have to say, it’s gratifying.

  Security is there in an instant, and it’s broken up quickly before anything else can happen, and the football players yank Asa away.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” Asa seethes, his voice void of any emotion. He’s lost it. Completely. The good… it’s slowly disappearing because of me and I can’t, I won’t let that happen.

  “No, you’re not,” Waylon tells him, backing him and me up and out of the way of the crowd. “Coach wants to talk to us. All of us.”

  Asa nods but doesn’t let go of my hand. The remaining players shuffle aside, and I’m left in the midst of all of it next to the one I fear isn’t going to let this go. Not this time.

  I stand next to him, tilting my chin up defiantly and piercing him with my stare. “Leave it alone,” I remind him, knowing what he’s thinking. “He will pay for what he’s done. But not by you.”

  Asa reels me into his arms, closing the gap between us, pressing his body against mine. “You need to file a restraining order,” he tells me, his voice bordering on a growl.

  “I will. Right away. I’ll do it now, but you have to promise me you’re going to let the police handle this.”

  He nods.

  “No.” I grab his face between my hands. “Don’t, Asa. You can’t ruin your future over this. Not ever.”

  He pins me with troubled eyes. “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

  My eyes widen. “It’s not up to you. You touch him and your career is over. He knows that.”

  Asa sighs, stepping back to create distance between us. He scrubs his hand over his jaw, tension filtering into the air again. When his eyes land on mine again they’re full of fire. “Fuck my career.”

  “No.” I move closer, ignoring the questioning stares around us. “Don’t say that. He’s already taken so much from us.” His chest is heaving, his anger so embedded in his words I fear there’s no stopping this turn in him, but I know I need to. I need to because he was there for me when I needed him the most and I’ll be there for him through this. “I love you, Asa. And I don’t think I could live with myself if you gave it all up and let him win. You wouldn’t let me give up, so I’m not letting you.”

  It takes him a moment before he really hears the words I’m saying. When he does, it hits him like a bullet to the chest. He yanks me hard against his chest, holding me there. And though I want to believe that’s his promise, I’m not so sure it is.

  The quarterback of a team has to keep them together. It’s the most difficult position in sports. The number one trait of all the great ones? Competitive spirit. Without it, it can destroy your team. He has to be cool under pressure.

  Me? Today? I’m none of that. I’m anything but that stereotypical quarterback. Football has always made me feel alive, but now, in my anger, I’ve never felt so distraught and alone.

  I knew when Barrette went to the police both our lives would never be the same. What I didn’t expect was for Roman to react this way. Actually, I knew he would. I just hoped he wouldn’t.

  Coach looks at me, then Terrell, then Roman and the rest of the fifteen members of the team who were involved in the argument outside Smith Hall. “Someone better start talking or you’re all suspended from the team. I’ll start fourth string if I have to just to prove my fucking point that this childish behavior will not be tolerated on this team.” Coach Benning looks to me, then Roman and Terrell. “I mean it. What the fuck happened?”

  Commotion takes over and everyone is talking but me. With my hands in my pockets to hide the shaking, I remain livid and uncontrolled, ready to turn into a complete maniac and slam Roman’s head against the desk until he admits what he did.

  Coach silences the room. “That’s enough!”

  Stepping forward, Roman clears his throat. “Just a misunderstanding, sir.”

  This is where I snap. I can’t take it any longer. “Bullshit it was,” I bark, refusing to let him get away with this. I don’t care what the risk is.

  That starts another argument before Coach grips the edge of his desk and flips it over in front of us. Playbooks, pictures, his UW mug filled with coffee crashes to the floor in front of us. “Enough! Everyone out. Lawson and Winslow, you stay.”

  “Can’t I stay?” Terrell teases, trying to lighten the mood. “I don’t wanna miss all the fun.”

  Coach drills him with a death glare. “Get the fuck out.”

  He does and Coach turns to look at me, and then Roman. “I’ve had enough of your shit so both of you better start talking. What’s this I hear about rape?”

  My eyes snap to Roman’s, waiting for the lie, only he doesn’t say a damn thing. He just stares at the ground like it’s going to answer for him. Well, if he’s not going to say anything I might as well. “Roman raped my girlfriend.”

  “No charges have been filed,” he spits out with a venomous edge toward me.

  Our eyes lock, mine betrayed, his controlled. “Yet. No charges have been filed yet, but they will.”

  “Oh my God,” Coach sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face. Letting out a sigh, he points to the door. “Winslow, wait in the hall. I’ll be talking to you in a minute.”

  He grumbles something, slams the door and then I’m left alone with Coach. It’s then that I feel something like a kid in trouble, my anger is still very much present and taking over.

  “Listen to me, Asa. I understand you’re angry, and by the sounds of it, you have every right to be.” He takes a breath before his intimidating stare moves to mine. “With that being said, you’re the captain and you need to control the team,” Coach yells, the veins in his neck protruding. Look at him. It looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. “You’re a leader whether you like it or not, and I expect you to portray yourself as one, on and off the field.”

  There is no arguing with him. He doesn’t want to hear it. He’s right, though. I haven’t been acting like a leader.

  “With that being said, I will be looking into what’s going on with Roman. I do not tolerate this kind of behavior and neither will the NCAA. If charges are filed, he’s suspended immediately pending investigation. Between you and me, he’s already in a great deal of trouble and his chances at playing in the upcoming bowl game are subject to their approval, not mine.”

  I nod. I can tell by looking at him he doesn’t want me to say anything. Bile burns my throat, threatening to spill over. Rage pounds through me in an angry beat.

  Thump. Breathe. T
hump. Breathe.

  “Send Winslow in.”

  I leave without another word. Closing the door behind me, I see Roman’s eyes drift to mine as he’s leaned against the wall. I level him with a glare, my voice dripping with venom when I say, “I will do whatever I have to do to make you fucking pay for what you did,” I speak slowly, treating him like the idiot he is.

  “I don’t think you will. I know where your priorities are.” His jaw twitches, his cheek and eye swelling, his expression revealing zero emotion.

  “You have no idea where my priorities are.”

  “Well then, I’m looking forward to it.” He pushes himself off the wall, his shoulder slamming into mine as he passes by.

  Quarterbacks are usually adept at staying cool under pressure in front of thousands. But this play, I have no control over the outcome.

  “I THINK WE should move off campus,” I tell Barrette, pacing her dorm room. She’s holding a piece of paper. A restraining order. Only it wasn’t filed by her today, it was filed by Roman’s attorney on his behalf. It’s against me and her. Barrette counter filed one of course but the fact that Roman even had the nerve to do so just goes to show you just how fucking delusional he really is.

  Barrette stares at me, my words slowly sinking in. “What? What are you saying?”

  “That we should move in together. Off campus. Away from all this bullshit.”

  She blinks, and I think she sees the rationality in it. “But don’t you have to live in student housing for your scholarship?”

  “No. UW doesn’t require student athletes to live on campus. I’ll probably have to get some kind of clearance, but I’ll talk to Coach and see what he says. My dad’s friend has a house here in Seattle. It’s only two miles from campus.”

  Barrette’s expression shifts and I don’t know this one. Is it shyness? Nervousness? I can’t tell and it’s killing me not knowing. “Asa,” she says, and I know it’s disappointment. “What happened today, with your team and me, us, all this crap, I can’t do that to you. I refuse to let you put your career in jeopardy over me. It’s not fair to you.”