by Regan Ure
Finally. Sobs broke from me and I felt like I was being torn from the inside out. I lay on the bed and curled up into a ball as I rode the wave of anguish and disgust.
The sheet covered my nakedness and caught my tears as I stared out the window. I didn't know how to handle my issues; ignoring them and sweeping them under the carpet had been my only way to make it this far. But not anymore.
Each time I closed my eyes an image of Slater appeared in my mind. He did this. It was because of him I was trying to pick up the pieces again and put myself back together. But each time I broke, the pieces were harder to fit back into place. Sometimes they didn't, leaving me more fractured than before.
You can't keep going like this, my mind told me but I ignored it. Feeling anxious, I stood up and pulled on a shirt and a pair of sleep shorts before I began to pace while wringing my hands.
Maybe it's time to tell someone. But I pushed the thought out of my mind. I put a hand to my forehead and took a deep breath.
I couldn't tell anyone. Revealing it would make people see how dirty and disgusted I was with myself. It didn't matter whose fault it was, it didn't matter that it wasn't my actions that had led to this. No, none of that mattered. All that mattered was how it had left me unable to cope with the self-hate.
I felt a wave of tiredness so I got back into my bed and pulled up the covers. I could still smell him on my sheets but I pushed him out of my mind. Feeling hurt and angry that he'd lifted the lid on my secret and allowed it to escape kept me awake for the rest of the night.
* * *
The next morning I lay in bed, eyes still staring off into the distance and not really focusing on anything. Emotionally and physically I felt exhausted. When my alarm sounded, I switched it off.
I didn't get up and get ready for class like I should have. Instead I remained in my bed with my covers clutched in my hands up to my chin. Feeling unable to cope, there was no way I could go in to school in the state I was in.
Tearing up, I struggled with how to deal with the renewed emotions of my childhood incident that had scarred my soul.
My phone started to ring but I didn't want to talk to anyone. It didn't matter who it was, no one could help me. After a few more rings the call ended.
I heard distinctive noise as Matthew got up. It was a little later when he knocked on the door. I held my breath, not ready to face anyone.
"Aren't you going to classes today?" he asked, his voice upbeat and chirpy.
Keeping silent would just make him worry, and I needed space to try and put myself back together.
"Jordan?" he asked. I wanted to tell him I was not feeling well but when I opened my mouth, no words came out.
Closing my eyes tightly, I tried to block out what was happening on the outside. All I could concentrate on was the throbbing pain coming from my chest. Images I had suppressed for so long began to play through my mind. There was no escaping them and the feelings they evoked.
Shame and anger overwhelmed me. Tears began to escape from my eyes as I quietly cried.
"Jordan?" Matthew's voice penetrated my emotional breakdown. "I'm worried about you."
I swallowed hard, trying to get a grip, but I couldn't stop the tears from breaking free.
"I'm okay," I said softly, hoping it would be enough for him to back off and give me the space I needed.
Trying to keep as quiet as possible so he would leave me, I pressed my hand over my mouth. Several seconds of silence passed as I waited, hoping it would be enough.
"If you're okay, open the door and let me see."
I squeezed my eyes closed and tilted my head up to the ceiling, trying to rein in the frustration that was amplified by my raw emotions.
"Jordan," he said, "if you don't, I will break the door down."
I bit my lip as I contemplated his threat. He would do it. I could tell from the tone in his voice he wasn't playing around. Worried about the damage he would do and how I would have to explain it to Connor made me slip out of my bed and I padded over to the door. It clicked as I opened it.
I kept the door slightly ajar, hoping just the sight of me would be enough to reassure him I was okay despite his concern. His eyes scanned mine.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly. I swallowed hard. My eyes were still red and puffy. He would be able to tell I had been crying.
"I don't want to talk about it," I told him, holding his searching gaze.
He contemplated my words for a minute. "Do you want me to call Taylor?"
I swallowed again, trying to keep my emotions tightly under control. I shook my head.
"You have to talk to someone. If you don't want to talk to me at least let me call Taylor," he suggested. Even understanding his concern, I felt angry he wouldn't just leave me to cope with this on my own, in my own way.
"Please just leave me alone," I murmured, the emotions I was struggling with creeping into my voice and making it huskier than usual.
"I can't," he murmured, indecision clear in his features. He ran a hand through his hair. "What happened?"
I pressed my lips together, refusing to tell him.
"You were fine last night before Slater came over…" he said, trying to figure out what had happened to cause this. His eyes shot to mine. "Did Slater do something to you?"
"No," I assured him, shaking my head. The only thing Slater had inadvertently done was to open up the issues I had been keeping under tight control for so long.
"Talk to me," he suggested. "Let me help you."
I gave him a weak smile. It was so like him to want to glue the pieces back into place, but it wasn't that easy.
"You can't," I whispered, feeling more raw and emotional. "I just need space."
"Fine," he finally relented. "I'll give you today but if you're not out by tomorrow I'm calling Taylor."
I nodded and closed the door before he had a chance to change his mind. Leaning against the door, I inhaled sharply and exhaled. My bed beckoned like a safe haven, somewhere I could hide from the world.
Flashes of my memories stopped me as I approached my bed. The sheets from my memories were the same white as the ones I reached out to touch. In my memory I could feel them against my skin. My lungs hurt as I tried to inhale again. More images came flooding back. I could smell the aftershave that hung in the air, I could feel the touch of his hand on my leg. I backed away from the bed like they held the memories I was experiencing. I only stopped when my back came into contact with the wall and then I slid down it. Keeping my knees tight against my body, I leaned my head down on my knees as I whimpered.
But nothing was going to stop the images that flooded my mind like a tidal wave, swamping over me and drowning me in despair.
"Baby," he whispered to me. The sound of his voice sent a shudder through me. I knew what was to come.
Pulling myself into a tight ball, I didn't feel like the grown woman I was; instead, I was transported back in time to when I was a girl. When I was confused and afraid.
One after one I relived every memory of it before it finally ended with me lying on the floor, looking unseeing across the room.
* * *
A knock pulled my attention back to the present.
"You want something to eat?" Matthew asked.
I knew if I didn't answer he would force his way into my room and I couldn't let him find me like this. The only thing worse than going through what I had was someone finding out about it.
"No thanks," I managed to say, keeping my voice as light as I could. If he became suspicious he would not leave me alone.
The sound of his footsteps gave me relief. My phone started to ring again. Worried the constant ringing would bring Matthew back, I got up off the floor and grabbed my phone from my beside table.
It was Slater. I sat down on my bed and stared at the caller ID as I turned the ringtone volume down.
Why is he calling? I asked myself. He was probably worried after what happened last night and wanted to check on me. But our arrangem
ent didn't include this. It was just about a physical need of two people and the satisfaction of that need. Nothing more.
The sound of footsteps going past the door of my room reminded me of the bodyguard who was getting more and more worried. If Slater couldn't get ahold of me, would he try and call Matthew? Or worse, would he come by to check on me?
It didn't sound like Slater but I didn't want to take any chances.
I'm fine, I typed out the message to Slater, hoping it would ease his feeling of responsibility over what had happened. But would it be enough? I mulled over it for a few more minutes before I sent the text message without adding additional text.
It had to be enough. I dropped my phone onto my bed before I put my head into my hands. Thinking back to my first encounter with Slater, when my issues had halted our night together, reminded me he wasn't in this with me for anything other than the physical connection we had. He didn't want to know about my problems, so the less he knew the better.
If he knew how messed up I was he would have avoided me from the start. I rubbed my face and dropped my hands. Inhaling a deep breath, I held it for a few seconds before releasing it.
I had to figure a way to get through this without anyone discovering my secret. I didn't want to share it or feel obligated to do so with the people who cared about me so they would understand my actions.
I just wanted to be left alone.
Chapter Thirteen
As much as I wanted to stay in my room and shut out the outside world while I worked my way through the memories that had molded my life from an early age, my stomach grumbled.
I put my hand to my midriff. I didn't want to leave. Glancing at the door, I wondered if Matthew was still camped outside in the hall. He hadn't left the apartment. There had been no sound of the front door opening or closing, which meant he was probably still around.
Still only dressed in an oversized shirt and sleep shorts, I walked to the door. Taking a sharp breath, I exhaled it quickly to build up the courage to open it. The soft click of the door opening sped up my pulse as I opened it slowly. It was too much to hope I could get something to eat from the kitchen without bumping into my concerned roommate.
I looked around but there was no one. Quietly I walked to the kitchen. I got some cereal out and poured some into a bowl.
"Jordan," Matthew said, and I put my hand to my heart.
"Geez, you scared me," I told him, trying to catch my breath.
"Sorry," he said, stepping forward, but I backed away. He stopped. "I didn't mean to."
His perceptive eyes scanned me. I felt like he was seeing more than I wanted him to. Could he see how messed up I felt inside?
"I can make you something to eat," he offered, looking past me to the bowl filled with cereal.
"No…I'm okay," I said as my hand dropped from my chest. My heartbeat was slowing down.
"You look like crap." Self-consciously I reached up a hand and smoothed my hair.
"Sorry," he said, taking a step closer, "I didn't mean that."
I shrugged, forcing myself not to take the instinctive step back. I felt worse on the inside.
"I'm really worried about you," he said with a frown. "Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."
I pressed my lips together, my hands clasped together as I faced him. How I wished it were possible.
"I wish it was that easy." It came out in a whisper and I swallowed hard to keep my emotions from seeping outside my protective screen to the world.
He studied me for several moments. "The only person who keeps coming to mind is Slater. Before he came over last night you were fine. And now…"
I remained silent.
"I know you said he didn't do anything but you can tell me if he did," he said. His eyes hardened as my mind raced to catch up with what he was implying.
My eyes caught his tightening fist.
"Slater didn't do anything to me," I assured him, not wanting to drag Slater into this. "This has nothing to do with him."
"Then what happened?" All anger was wiped from him and all that remained was the concern in his eyes.
I wanted to tell him but I couldn't. I remembered asking Taylor why she'd been so hesitant to tell people about her past and she'd told me once people found out they looked at her differently.
If I revealed what had happened, he would look at me differently and I didn't want that. To him I was Jordan, the happy, teasing roommate. I didn't want him to look at me with sympathy. It would make the shame harder to carry.
"I just need to eat something and have a good night's sleep," I told him, trying to lift my voice so I would sound happier than I felt. "Tomorrow I'll be better."
It was an outright lie. Tomorrow I would still walk with the wounds. There was no way to fix it, and even trying to ignore it hadn't worked. It had only been a temporary reprieve.
He studied me for a moment. "Okay," he said, nodding his head.
He turned to leave but stopped just short of the doorway before looking back at me. "If you change your mind I'm here for you."
I nodded, unable to talk without giving away my vulnerability. Even after he left, it took a few more minutes to stop myself from crying. Turning back to the task of getting the milk and pouring some into the bowl distracted me slightly.
With my supper, I returned to my room and closed the door. Back in the sanctuary of my room I sat on the floor and ate some cereal. My stomach felt too knotted to eat much so after a few mouthfuls I pushed it away.
Tomorrow I had promised to be better. I was still a mess and I had no idea how I would be able to carry on as normal when I felt like a festering, raw, open wound.
Deciding that I should get up and take a shower before getting into bed pushed me into action. My body felt tired and sore. My mind was still cluttered with thoughts that I didn't want to confront. Going through the motions of showering and getting dressed in my pajamas kept me from concentrating on what was running through my mind.
Just as I entered my room, I heard voices. I stopped. That meant Matthew had company. I went to my door and put my ear against it, hoping to recognize the other voice.
The voices were muffled, but they seemed to be getting closer. Then I heard him.
"I need to see her," Slater said. I pulled away like I had been burned by a hot surface. Backing away from the door, I contemplated why he was here.
The knock was unexpected.
"Open up, Jordan," Slater demanded.
I bit my nail, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't pretend I wasn't here because he knew I was.
"I'm not going anywhere until you open the door," Slater warned. "I'll stay here all night if I have to."
Damn it! Feeling my anger overtake any other emotions I was feeling, I walked to the door. This hadn't been part of our agreement. Just sex. Not meddling in each other's issues. By being here, he was overstepping the line we had drawn.
"Go away, Slater," I said angrily, still refusing to allow him in.
Matthew was silent and that made me even angrier. I had explained to him I needed to be alone. Why had he allowed Slater in?
"Open the door," Slater commanded, his voice laced with growing anger. It took me by surprise. Slater didn't usually show a lot of emotion other than the happy-go-lucky guy, which was a front for the complicated guy whose issues kept him from getting too close to people.
I leaned my forehead against the door. It felt like the walls of the room were closing in on me, smothering the air I needed to breathe. I struggled to take a deep breath, feeling my lungs ache as they filled with a little air but not enough to keep my panic at bay.
"Please leave," I murmured through the door. It was my last attempt to keep him out.
"I can't." The steeliness in his voice told me all I needed to know. He wasn't going to leave until he saw me. It meant opening up the door and allowing him into my safe haven where I had been trying to work through my terrible childhood nightmare.
I squeezed my eyes closed b
riefly as my hand went to the handle.
I couldn't allow this to escalate. If I refused and Slater got more worked up I had no idea what it would push Matthew to do. Would he break the door down like he'd threatened to do earlier? I couldn't risk Connor finding out.
It was the last thing I needed at the moment. Connor, the over-protective brother of my best friend, wanting to know why a door in the apartment he was renting had been broken.
Slowly I turned the door handle.
Get yourself together, I told myself, refusing to allow Slater or Matthew to see how badly I had been struggling with my inner demons. Pretend everything is fine.
The door opened.
Slater's eyes met mine. I stepped back slightly as he stepped into my room. Matthew stood behind him, watching us.
I took another step back as my eyes held his. My arms hung by my sides. Once he walked into the room, he closed the door, shutting out the outside world. It was just the two of us.
"I'm worried." He didn't say it with concern like I had expected; instead, there was an undertone of irritation, which only riled me up.
"About?" I said, deciding to make him elaborate.
He shot me an annoyed look.
"I didn't ask you to be here," I reminded him. It wasn't my fault.
I had given him an out by telling him I was fine. It wasn't like I'd told him I needed him. Whatever his reason for coming here it was his choice alone.
"Did you really expect me not to worry about you after what happened last night?"
I shrugged, trying to keep my outward facade indifferent when I could still feel the rawness of my wound rip open a little more. I had to get him out of my room as soon as possible. I was hanging on by a thread, my emotions swirling inside of me pressing to break free. He had already seen too much.
Just cut to the chase. Tell him you're feeling better and you'll be fine tomorrow. Let him off the hook.
"I'm okay," I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "I'll be better tomorrow."