A Heart Not Easily Broken

by M.J. Kane

  Chapter 23

  No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible to get rid of the smell.

  Dark spices.

  Neither the fragrance of my cucumber and melon body wash nor the tropical scented soap could get rid of the stench.

  My skin flamed red, my inner thighs raw. I ached everywhere: my breasts…my back…the very heart of me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the memory.

  How could this have happened? What did I do wrong? How did I let him rape me? No amount of fighting back prevented what Javan had been determined to do.

  A wave of revulsion hit. Dry heaves forced me to double over in pain. There was no foreseeable end to this nightmare.

  I sunk down to the tub’s floor, crossed my arms tightly across my chest, and watched the soapy water swirl around the drain. My body shook, as heavy tears mixed with the lukewarm water, rained down my hair and face.

  Nothing short of bleach could get rid of Javan’s pungent scent.

  I should have waited for Yasmine or Kaitlyn.

  I should have paid for the damn book.

  The repercussions of my procrastination and stubbornness were coming back to bite me. If I’d accepted Brian’s offer in the beginning, then none of this would have happened.

  I would not have a failing grade in class.

  I wouldn’t be a victim of Javan’s deceit.

  In the end, it was my fault. I’d asked for this.

  I deserved every bad thing going on in my life.

  The water ran cold; making my already aching limbs hurt worse. How long had I been in the shower? Had my roommates gotten home yet?

  I dragged my bruised body out of the tub and over to the bathroom mirror. Faint traces of black and blue marks emerged under my light brown skin. Javan had been merciless in his assault, taking whatever he wanted. But he’d been sure not to leave marks where they’d be visible to the world. For that I should be thankful.

  I was thankful for still having my life.

  One hip ached worse than the other. I rubbed it gently with the towel before twisting around to get a look. Oh, God, no…my tattoo. Javan’s humongous hand marred my dedication to Brian and our relationship. The skin around the bright blue butterfly was swollen and red.

  A fresh wave of tears ran down my face. How much more crying could I do? It had been hard to drive home with bleary eyes.

  Oh, God, Brian. My heart felt like it would break into a million pieces.

  Only hours after promising Brian I’d be faithful, my words were no longer valid. And to think I worried about him sleeping with another woman. Now, another man…his friend, had taken me, used me and…

  Oh, God, what had I done?

  I wanted to call Brian and tell him what happened and how much I needed him. My hand rested on the bathroom counter, my fingers inches away from grasping my phone.

  Javan’s leering voice flooded my mind, growling, sending chills down my spine. “Tell Brian.” He’d smirked as he pulled his pants up. “Go ahead; he’s not going to believe you. You cheated on him. At least that’s what I’ll say. Why would he believe you? You’re just another black slut who walked away from him to be with a brother.”

  I wanted to jump on him and beat him and gouge his eyes out for what he’d done to me, for what he’d said about me…about Brian. But what could I do? He’d already proved he could overpower me.

  I could call the police and have Javan arrested. But then what?

  Brian was on tour. Word would get back to him; he would break his contract and come home. His reputation would be ruined, his chances at establishing his career gone because of my mistake.

  And what about our relationship? Hadn’t he just asked, no, begged me, to wait for him? He wanted to marry me and start a family.

  A family. My hands immediately flew to my stomach. I could be pregnant now. Oh, no, what if I was and lost our baby due to this violent act?

  My knees grew weak and forced me to lean over the counter’s edge. Now, I would be nothing but damaged goods.

  If Brian ever got wind of what happened and believed Javan’s story over mine, our relationship would be over. He’d known Javan for years; we’d only been involved for months. Brian said we needed more time to get to know each other.

  If this ever came out, my unexpected chance at love would be over, gone forever. And where would that leave me? Broken hearted and alone.

  Losing Brian would be far more devastating than Javan raping me. I could put this act of violence behind me and pretend it never happened.

  But there would be no way to pretend our relationship never existed.

  I wiped tears from my eyes and stared at my battered body. These bruises would be long gone by the time Brian came home. The blemishes would disappear, but deep down, I would never be the same.

  I pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a long t-shirt.

  Sudden pounding on the bathroom door made my heart jump. I gripped the counter. I’d locked the door. Could Javan have followed me home? Had Yasmine given him a key?

  “Ebony, girl, you’re hogging all the hot water! Hurry up!” Yasmine’s exasperated voice filtered through the door.

  Yasmine. Should I tell her? She needed to know about her man. But would she believe me?

  We became best friends when we met in college. We confided in each other and connected in a way that bonded us as sisters.

  She’d had her own share of relationship trials over the years, her life altered by people she’d thought were her friends. They not only used her, they went behind her back and ruined her outlook on dating. It was why she refused to be seriously involved again.

  I could not risk becoming another one of the women who’d hurt her.

  “Your girl’s in love with me. If you tell her about us, you’ll become another ‘ho who used to be her friend.”

  Javan had it all figured out. Who was I fooling? No one around me would believe, not even Kaitlyn. Besides, she never had been good at keeping a secret.

  There was no one to confide in without them getting hurt, too.

  Brian. Yasmine. Kaitlyn.

  My mistake started weeks ago. The repercussions of my decision snowballed beyond belief.

  I would be the only one to pay the cost for this mistake. This was my secret, my burden to bear alone.

  Dressed, I gathered up my bathing supplies, balled up my torn clothes, and wrapped them in my towel out of sight of prying eyes. Yasmine leaned against the wall, tapping her toe impatiently when I opened the door.

  “It’s about time. I bet the hot water’s gone,” she grumbled. “I’ve had one hell of a day. All I want to do is shower, crash in bed, and pretend this day never happened.”

  I walked by, gripping my towel, unable to make eye contact. “Sorry,” I muttered. My foot crossed the threshold of my room when she stopped me.

  “Look at me, being all insensitive. Are you okay?” Her voice softened.

  I ran a hand over my bloodshot eyes. “I had a long day, too. Headache.”

  Yasmine tilted her head and studied me. In the years we’d known each other, she’d learned to read me well. “That’s not all.” She walked over and put a hand on my aching shoulder. I flinched. “What’s really bothering you?”

  For a split second, my lips parted. I nearly blurted out everything. Oh, no, I could not go there, not now, not ever.

  “You miss Brian, don’t you?” She shook her head and pulled me into her arms. I leaned in and absorbed strength from that small contact. “It’s okay. I’m sure lover boy is sitting around pining over you, too.” Yasmine smiled. “I feel the same way when I haven’t seen Javan in a few days. The crazy part is it’s been a long time since I felt that way about anyone.” She kissed my forehead and rubbed my back. “Three months will be over before you know it.”

  She let go and headed for the bathroom. I stood rooted in place and leaned against the doorjamb before closing my door.

  In my room, I swallowed aspirin, a
nd climbed in bed to wrap up in the security of my sheets.