Take Me With You

by Melyssa Winchester

  Do I trust Eric? That’s funny. He’s the only one I do trust, but Thompson doesn’t need to know that. It’s hard enough opening up this much with him, telling him about Eric would be even worse. I want to keep it only mine for a little while longer.

  I want to keep Eric mine.

  My Secret.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “That’s good. It’s a good thing, you opening up about what happened to you. It will take some time, but there will come a time where admitting what happened to you won’t be as hard as it is now.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Amy, I told you during our first session that you were safe here and I meant it. You’re also safe out there even though he’s there. You are not the first victim of sexual abuse that I’ve counselled and you won’t be the last. There are many people out there that want to help protect you, but for that to happen you have to let us.”

  When he mentions people wanting to protect me, I instantly think of Eric even though I know he means the police and other people like my CPS worker and the teachers at school. Adults.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you think someone like me can ever have a normal relationship?”

  “I assume you mean that in the romantic sense?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why do you think that you can’t have one?”

  “I don’t like being touched. When someone does it, it’s like a million spiders are crawling all over me and it’s hard to breathe until they let go. Every touch reminds me of him and it’s hard not to think that the person doing the touching is going to do what he did.”

  “Have you given any more thought to what we spoke about the last time you were?”

  “The support group?”

  “Yes. What you just told me, it’s a common reaction for survivors of sexual abuse. Touch in any form, whether it’s romantic or not can trigger memories, things that you want to keep buried. I think coming here, speaking with me in addition to attending the support group, with other people going through much the same things as you, will help that.”

  “How is sitting around talking about what happened to me helpful? I don’t want to relive it.”

  “No, I’m aware of that. No one wants to relive traumas that they experience, but what you don’t realize is the power that you’re taking back by opening up. Talking about what happened to you, especially with other people going through the same thing, you’re taking control back.”

  Taking control back. Exactly what I want to do.

  “Promise me that you’ll give it some more thought before our next session.”

  “Okay…”

  “In terms of you having a normal, productive romantic relationship. It’s possible. The only way that it isn’t is if you allow it to define your every step moving forward. You are the only roadblock to your happiness, Amy.”

  I don’t believe that. I think that Frank Evans is a pretty huge roadblock, but arguing that right now seems like a waste of time. I’m not a doctor, I’m just a victim. He knows better than I do.

  “You’ve had relationships with the opposite sex in the past. We’ve spoken about that a little during our time together, yet you’ve never asked me about this before. Has something happened now that is somehow different than your previous attempts?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “I have.”

  “Explain what you mean by that.”

  “The other guys, they were a crutch. They didn’t seem to care what I did or about me at all really, so I just used them the same way they did me. This time is different because I like someone, and I don’t want to use him.”

  “How does he feel?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m scared to find out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s better than me, Doctor Thompson. Like way better. I’m afraid to tell him how I feel because if he doesn’t feel the same, it’s going to hurt and I’ve been hurting enough.”

  “What if he tells you that he feels the same? What then, Amy?”

  Another thing I don’t know and am too afraid to find out because I’ve never had it happen before. I’m afraid it’s going to hurt me no matter what his answer is because despite wanting to be someone different, change the way I’ve been doing things for the last four years, I don’t think I’ve got it in me.

  My imperfections, my scars, the monster I turned myself into, it’s always going to be with me. I’ll hurt him, the way I’ve been doing for a year and I’ll be right back where I started, except this time, I won’t be heartless by my own design, I’ll be heartless because he took it from me.

  I’ll never be the phoenix.

  “I don’t know. I’ll probably ruin it like I always do.”

  “Amy, the only way I can see you ruining this, especially if he knows everything about you and is still standing by your side, is if you don’t tell him how you really feel. He deserves to know the truth, just as you do. All of it, even the parts that aren’t so pretty. It’s a risk but ruining things will only happen if you let the fear guide you.”

  “So, you’re saying I should just tell him how I feel, no matter what it might do to me because not doing it would be worse?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Trust yourself and the things you’re feeling because like you’ve just admitted, this time isn’t like ones before. It’s different and if you don’t take the chance and trust, you risk missing out on something that could be the very thing you need.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Take the control back, Amy. Life is what you make it. Despite everything that happened in the past, do not let him define any more of your present and future. Show him and the world that he doesn’t get to win. That you’re taking your life back. Do what makes you happy.”

  “Even if all blows up in my face?”

  “Yes. The only way things can blow up in your face is by doing nothing at all. You’ve spent the last fourteen years transforming into someone else, letting his actions define your life. Don’t let him get away with it anymore. Take your life back and start living, but not for him. Live for you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eric

  Here goes nothing.

  It’s been the first time all week where I’ve sat at the table with them, eating dinner like a real family. Normally whenever she makes dinner, she just brings the plate right into my room, shutting the door behind her, respecting my privacy even though I’m sure she doesn’t like it. Tonight though, it’s all different because if I want to get permission to go to the mall, I’ve gotta interact.

  I was fully prepared to call her at lunch and ask if I could head to the mall right from school, but Amy changed all of that when she texted me, asking if we could meet after dinner instead.

  It’s hard not to be curious about the time change, but I’m trying not to put so much focus on it. She’s allowed to change her mind. I’m just happy she didn’t bail out entirely. As hard as doing this is gonna be for me, her deciding that she didn’t want to meet me after all would be so much worse.

  This attempt I’m making, sitting at the table and listening to the conversation going on around me, I hope it’s enough. I don’t want to have to text her and tell her that I can’t do it because my mom won’t let me out.

  She’d understand, I mean she brought it up the night she asked me to go to the bluffs, but for once I wanna be like every other guy on the planet, even if I’ll never be quite like anyone else. I want to go out, meet up with a girl like it’s something I do every day and not think about having my mommy’s permission.

  “Eric, you’re awfully quiet. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How was your day?”

  This is her subtle way of asking me if anyone gave me any trouble. She never comes right out and asks if I was bullied, choosing instead to ask this way, her conc
ern for me all over the tone of the simple question.

  “It was great. I got my art project back.”

  “How’d you do?”

  “Aced it. Mr. Jones liked it so much that he wants to put it on display.”

  “That’s great honey! I told you that you were talented.”

  My dad pushes his chair away from the table, nothing to say as usual and when he makes his way over to the sink, turning the water on and rinsing off his plate, I see the opening I’ve been looking for.

  “Mom, can I talk to you about something?”

  “Of course. What’s up?”

  “I was thinking about going to the movies later. I know it’s a school night and you don’t want me out late, but do you think it would be alright if I go?”

  “You want to go out on your own?” she asks, her concern over me being out past dark something I’m used to. It’s happened so often over the years that if she didn’t act the way she is now, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself.

  “No. I mean I would go to the mall on my own, but I’m meeting up with people.”

  “What people?”

  Crap. I can’t tell her who I’m meeting up with. She’s the one person that does know Amy by her given name, I’m sure of it. With as many times as she’s been to the school discussing everything that’s been happening to me, there’s no way she couldn’t. If I tell her I want to see Amelia, she’s not going to let me go. Even worse, she won’t understand.

  “Uh—Kayden and Belle?”

  “Funny that you mention the two of them. I saw them earlier when I was running errands. They never mentioned a movie night.”

  Well there’s nothing I can do now but tell the truth. If I was meeting up with Belle, she would have told my mom earlier. She knows that my mom is like hers in terms of being protective so she would have wanted to get her permission first. It’s just another way our families operate since they met last summer.

  “Eric, who are you really going to see?”

  “Amelia.”

  “You want to go to the mall to meet up with a girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  Maybe she doesn’t know who Amelia is after all. She does seem to be pretty stunned by the fact that I want to hang out with a girl though, which is bizarre considering who my best friend is.

  “Are you really going to see a movie or was that a lie too?”

  “I really want to see a movie. I’m not sure which one yet because she never texted me back when I asked, but I’m not lying about that.”

  She leans back in her chair, bringing her hand to her face, obviously going over everything I’ve told her. Knowing there’s not that much time before I’ve gotta get upstairs to get ready so I can go, I start tapping my hands on the table impatiently. I really need her to say yes to this. I’m not sure what I’ll do if she doesn’t.

  “Alright. You can go, but on one condition.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bring your phone with you. Before you go into the movie, text me and let me know. I know you can’t have your phone on during the movie, but I want to make sure you’re alright.”

  “I can do that.” I agree easily. “Can I be excused? I need to clean up and get dressed. I’m supposed to meet her in an hour.”

  I have no idea why I just blurted all of that out, giving her way too much information the way I did but with the smile that comes across her face, it seems it wasn’t as wrong as I thought. For whatever reason, I’ve made her happy.

  “Go ahead. I wouldn’t want you to be late, but Eric?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  Amelia

  When I got here, I purposely found a table as far back from the escalators as I could and it’s got nothing to do with wanting to keep myself hidden away from people. I’m not embarrassed at all to be doing this and I really don’t care who sees me with Eric when he shows up.

  I chose to sit here because I want to see him before he sees me. He could easily come through the door behind me and take me by surprise, but I’m hoping that he’ll do the same thing I did when I got off the bus and take the escalator from the ground floor up so I can see him when he gets here.

  I’m a mix of excited and scared right now. The normal confidant way I am when I’m at school, it’s not there anymore and I’m just a bundle of tied up nerves. It’s not because I’m about to go to a movie with him, or even eat with him. It’s because I’m gonna do what Dr. Thompson said and tell him everything.

  Before we see the movie, I’m going to tell Eric what I’m feeling and hope that it doesn’t do what I think it will and blow up in my face.

  My eyes have been locked on the moving stairs ever since I got here fifteen minutes ago and when I finally give up, thinking that for whatever reason he wasn’t able to get out and he’s gonna bail on me, the screen on my phone lights up and again the nervous shake comes back full force.

  I’m here. Almost to the court. Where are you?

  The right thing to do now would be to answer him back, but I’m not going to do it. If I tell him where I am, then it’s going to ruin everything. I want a few minutes before he finds me so I can watch him, prepare myself for what’s gonna happen when he sits down.

  When I see him step off the escalator, the first thing I notice is that he’s not wearing what he was earlier. The clothes he had on at school, they looked worn, dirty even but now, he’s the complete opposite. His shaggy hair, it’s completely slicked back and even though he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt the same as he was earlier, it’s different somehow. It sits on him differently.

  He’s gorgeous.

  He’s not supposed to look this good.

  Dipping my head down before he can lock eyes with me, I grab my phone and text him back. As easy as it would be for me to keep staring at him this way, taking in all the ways he looks different, I don’t want to do it and make him think that I’m not here or that I’m playing some kind of game with him.

  He already thought that I wouldn’t want to be seen with him. There’s no way I want to make that worse.

  All the way in the back. By Taco Bell.

  Tossing my phone back on the table and looking back up, I see him coming toward me, his eyes locked on my general area, obviously seeing me, but not directly on me. The closer he gets, the more I’m able to see of him and it’s hard not to notice the smile on his face. It isn’t a big one, but it’s enough to let me know that he’s happy he found me.

  Reacting this way to him, it’s so strange. Foreign. I’m not the girl that goes head over feet over a guy. I don’t gush and twirl my hair or giggle and blush. I actually think the girls that do that are pretty pathetic. It’s another way Charlotte and Eve embarrass me. It’s just a guy. It’s not like its Jensen Ackles or something.

  With Eric though, seeing his smile, I’m doing it back and my cheeks are hot. I’m flushed and it takes everything in me not to fan myself right now because I’m overheating the closer he gets. Yeah, this is definitely weird.

  “Hey.”

  Amelia. Stop staring. He’s talking to you which means you need to answer him back instead of staring at him and drooling.

  “Um—Hey.”

  “So did you finally decide on a movie?” he asks as he takes the seat across from me and I again mentally slap myself because I’m staring at him again. If this keeps up, I’m gonna end up having to pick my jaw up off the floor.

  “Yeah. I was thinking we could see X-Men. I didn’t know if it was your thing or not, but I’ve been dying to see it for a while now, so it was like the only choice.”

  Oh God. I’m rambling now. Breathe.

  “You like X-Men?”

  “Yeah. You don’t?”

  “Uhh…”

  “Oh god. I chose the one movie you don’t wanna see. You probably hate superhero movies right?”

  He laughs and it’s confusing. What did I say?

  “Amelia.”

  “What?”

  “It’s all t
he other movies I don’t wanna see.”

  “Wait. Does that mean you like it?”

  “Yes. I like it a lot. I’ve already seen it though. I hope that’s alright?”

  “Are you planning on talking through it?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s alright.”

  He laughs again and I blush. It’s the third time he’s made me blush since he walked off the escalator and if I didn’t enjoy the fact that he was the reason for it, I’d really hate how often I’m doing it. I’m not supposed to act this way. This isn’t like me at all.

  At least it wasn’t like the old me.

  “You wanna order something to eat?” I ask, attempting to call attention away from the very real reaction I’m having to him and back on the reason we’re sitting here.

  “Not really. I ate dinner with my family tonight, so I’m not really hungry.”

  “You just wanna head to the theatre then?”

  “If you want to.”

  Do I want to do that? Get up right now and head straight for the movie when the reason I even suggested the food court at all was because I wanted to talk to him beforehand? Can I really go through with the real reason I brought him here?

  “Amelia, are you alright?”

  “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “You’re shaking.” he says, motioning with his hand toward my arms, which just like he said are shaking. Damnit. This isn’t supposed to be happening.

  Blurting out the first thing that comes to mind, I sit back in the chair and will my body to stop reacting. I need to relax and I need to do it soon before he reads into what’s happening and thinks it’s something bad.

  “You look nice.”

  “U—uh, thanks.” He stammers. “So d—do you.”

  Cue the blush again. Even with the stutter, his words are like a shot to my heart. I need to tell him how I feel because much more of this and I’m gonna completely lose it.

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “What did we decide about that?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “You can tell me anything.”

  “I like you.”

  His head lowers but not before I catch the smile. The one that no one else gets to see. The one that’s only for me, at least that’s what I’m telling myself every time he flashes it at me.