"How?" I asked, my voice sounding shrill and high.
I knew before the words even escaped her mouth what she was going to say.
"Tell him," she said.
Yeah. Tell him. Tell my boyfriend that my ex-boyfriend raped me, and nearly every night, I had nightmares that it was happening repeatedly. It was easier said than done, and I was sure that she knew that.
"If it helps, when he called me, he sounded like he'd been hit by a car," she said. "So he probably feels as terribly about all of this as you do. Although I'm sure he's not lying in his room, sobbing through Dashboard Confessional's latest whiny album and wearing your sweatshirt."
I pulled away from her embrace, laughing. Even when she was comforting me, she had a way of making me smile.
"What is it with you and Dashboard Confessional?" I asked, giggling. "That's not even what I was listening to, by the way." She shrugged, as if that didn't make a shred of difference to her. "And no, it doesn't help much. I don't like knowing that he's hurting."
"Well, both of you are going to be hurting if you don't get your heads out of your asses sometime soon," Michele said, handing me back my spoon.
Fourteen.
We went a week without speaking. I'd been able to avoid him like the plague--I'd become an expert at that thanks to Kyle. I was great at avoiding him. I was great at trying to make sure that I didn't run into him or have to speak to him.
I missed Colin, of course I did. But I knew that I needed to give him space. I had told him not to push me, so I definitely couldn't push back.
I was surprised when I saw him leaning against my locker casually, his legs crossed and his arms lying idly at his side. His eyes were closed, so I just reached for my locker without saying anything.
"Hi," he said, smoothly.
I tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible. I didn't want to look into his eyes because I knew I would cave, knew I would collapse in his arms, knew that I would show him that without him, I was falling apart. I wasn't weak. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
But without Colin, I felt like I was. I felt like my entire reason for being was lost, was gone, was ripped away from me the minute that he told me he needed space.
"Hey," I murmured, slamming my locker door.
I started toward my classroom, but Colin grasped my hand from behind so that I was standing right beside him. His touch still sent shivers down my spine, still made my legs turn to jelly, made my thoughts go fuzzy. I didn't want him touching me. That was the last thing I needed. I knew that if he continued to hold my hand, all my resolve would go out the window, and there would be nothing I could do about it.
"Are you not even going to look at me, Nickayla?" he asked, his voice soft and caring.
No. He couldn't talk to me like that. He was the one who wanted "space". He had no right to act hurt.
"Of course not," I said. "Why should I? You need your space, right?"
I risked a glance at him, and the wounded expression he gave me nearly brought me to my knees, incapacitated. I didn't want to see that look in his eyes, and more than that, I didn't want to be the reason for it. He didn't deserve that, especially not from me.
"I think we should talk," he said, finally, and I nodded.
I had a free period, so I didn't mind finding a small space to sit with him at, to talk if that was what he wanted or needed from me. I loved him. I would do anything for him.
"Sure," I said. "Let's go to the choir room, then."
We walked in silence to the choir room, and I had finally successfully managed to pull my hand away from his. I knew that I was being petty, that I was being too hard on him. Sure, he was the one who needed space, but I was the one who caused that rift in our relationship by all but telling him that I didn't trust him with the secrets of my heart.
He opened the door for me, not looking me in the eyes. I wondered if he felt the way I did. I wondered if he was suffering the way that I was. Being without Colin was like missing an important piece of myself. It was as if I had left my heart behind when he told me he needed space, and every second, every moment since then, I'd been struggling to breathe.
Breathing was no easy task. My breaths were short and hasty, and I felt like at any moment, I would collapse. Colin Westwick held my heart in his hands, and I didn't know what to do to get it back. I didn't even know if I wanted it back.
"So you wanted to talk," I said, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. "Talk."
Fuck. That came out all wrong. I sounded bitter, and angry, and heartless, when really, I was just hurt. I didn't want to be mean to him, didn't want to be angry with him, because anger was far from the emotion that I was actually feeling.
"I miss you," Colin said.
I put a hand against the wall to steady myself, because I was sure that if I hadn't done that, my legs would have given out from the effort that it took to hold up my body after those three words made me weak in the knees.
"I miss you, too," I breathed, not wanting to hold anything back.
This wasn't us. This wasn't Colin and I. We didn't play games or beat around the bush. We were honest with each other, no matter the cost, because we'd both been lied to one too many times, and the truth was always simpler. I could feel a hundred pound weight being lifted off my chest when I said those words, because I'd been dying to call him, to text him, to drive to his house and see him and say those very words because missing him made me ache. People always said that when you were away from the ones you loved, it was like a real, physical pain, and I never understood quite what that meant until I had forced myself to stay away from Colin.
"Nickayla, I'm sorry," he said. "I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I told you I needed space."
"I don't know what you were thinking either, but I know it felt like you were thinking that you wanted time away from me," I said.
I could see his breathing labor, could see his sculpted chest rise, and fall slowly, measuredly. He was having just as hard a time as I was, but somehow, I didn't want to hear it, didn't want him to make excuses or justifications for anything that had happened. We were both equally at fault, and as a result, we were both hurting.
"Nickayla, I think the mistake you're making is thinking that this is easy for me," Colin said, his eyes pleading with me to understand him.
However, I didn't. I couldn't understand him, or why he'd said what he said. I had been so deathly afraid of coming to him with anything that had to do with Kyle raping me, and just when I was about to, he blew up and asked for time apart.
"Isn't it, though?" I snapped, challenging him.
I wasn't trying to make him pay, I wasn't trying to throw anything in his face, I just wanted him to see sense, and see how I had been feeling for the past week.
He stopped short, staring at me incredulously. His eyes were wide and his mouth was gaping open, and I could tell in that moment that I had him.
"You went on a rampage, Colin," I said. "You got pissed at me for not 'trusting you', and yet, you did the one thing I knew you would do." I threw my hands up in exasperation. "How can I even try to trust you, Colin, when you asked for 'space', and I haven't even told you anything yet? Maybe I need to trust you, maybe. But you proved me right by asking for space when that was the last thing I needed. I needed my boyfriend to hold me and love me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. I was scared! I felt alone, and you pushed me away! I needed you and for the very first time, you weren't there for me. I really don't know how to feel about that."
I stood by in silence as I watched his face contort with first frustration, then understanding, then devastation. He fumbled for a seat, dropping his head as he sat down on one of the chairs.
"Mother fuck," he said, his voice muffled and strained; it sounded as though he was winded. He sat there shaking his head and raking his fingers through his hair, his breaths becoming quicker. He placed his hands on the collar of his shirt and pulled at it as if it was choking him, like there was
not enough air in the room. Finally, he stared up at me, but his gaze was glassy and distant. "I really hurt you, didn't I?"
I nodded, unable to look at him. I bit my lip, trying to focus on anything, everything but what I was feeling on the inside.
"Nickayla, come here please," he said quietly, his voice still sounding strange to my ears.
I walked over to him hesitantly, and he grabbed my hands absently, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as though there was nothing else in the world that made more sense than holding me, touching me, in that moment.
He pulled me into his lap, and I rested on his leg, his hands cradling mine. He finally let go, but he placed one hand on my waist and the other on my head. I was resting my head against his shoulder, and I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent. God, I had missed him so much. Being in his arms, feeling his touch, feeling his heartbeat beneath his shirt--that was where I belonged.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, baby," he whispered into my hair, and I could tell that he meant it. "I'm going to try to be better. I promise I am. I've never done this before."
"Done what?" I asked, quietly. "Been with someone who's as fucked up mentally as you are?"
He chuckled softly, but I could feel his head shake.
"No, baby," he said. "I've never been in love before. I've never felt like I had to worry about someone's feelings other than my own. I've never felt like someone else's well-being was essential to my happiness. I've never felt like it hurt to breathe when I watched someone walk away from me." He paused, kissing my head. "Until you. The minute that you walked away, all I could think about was whether you were okay. I knew that you weren't happy, and that you were miserable, and simply knowing that was enough to make me miserable. And when you left my house a week ago, I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest, and it was lying on the floor, just within reach, but I was too stupid to reach out and grab it. I let you go, and I shouldn't have. I hurt you, and I swear I didn't mean to."
I nodded against him, understanding every single emotion that he was describing because that was what I felt while we were apart. I felt like a fraction of a person and I was missing the other piece of me.
"I love you," I said.
"Oh, Nickayla," he said, taking my face and pulling it to his, his forehead against mine. "I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I think I still need time."
"I understand," I said, and I did. It was just as much my fault as it was his.
I stood up, brushing my clothes off as I got ready to walk away from him yet again. We both needed time, and that was okay with me.
At least I thought it was.
Last period was about to start, and I held my breath as I walked through the doors of the classroom. I looked around the room, trying to find someone that I knew. I couldn't be there alone--I needed moral support. Scanning the room quickly, my breath caught in my throat. None of my friends were in sight--not even Michele or Brody, who I knew that I needed the most--and I was having an anxiety attack.
I found an empty seat near the back of the classroom, setting my purse down and pulling a notebook and pen out of it. I opened it to the first page and started writing, trying to take my mind off an impending confrontation with Colin. I had done a great job of avoiding Kyle when he raped me, but Colin was another problem altogether.
I began writing. It was nonsense at first: my name, my signature, lyrics to my favorite Rascal Flatts song, my birth date. After a few minutes, it morphed into my name and Colin's, then a list of all the things I loved about him.
-The way he holds me. I can stay in his arms forever.
-The way his kisses feel on my lips.
-His smile.
-The way I've never felt safer anywhere but in his arms.
-His laugh.
-His eyes.
-His
"Colin!" a girl's voice said.
My head snapped up immediately as I watched him walk inside the classroom, as easygoing and carefree as usual. It was as though nothing had even happened between us. My throat went dry as I watched Belinda Moreno flirt with him. He grinned easily at her as her hand grazed his shoulder. I met his eyes and I could see the pain there--his smile didn't reach them.
Suddenly I felt sick, but I wasn't going to run. I couldn't run. I was done with that. I couldn't run from Colin. However, just seeing him with her was enough to make my stomach turn. I was deteriorating, falling apart slowly and painfully, and I didn't know who was going to be there when I finally fell apart.
I sat up straight, then flashed a smile at him, looking back down at my notebook. The list that stared up at me told me that I was making a huge mistake by cooperating with his stupid notion of time and space. I blinked back tears as Belinda snaked her arm through Colin's, leading him to the seat next to hers.
Why did I have so many classes with him? Why my last class of the day, too? I still had to spend another hour with him, stupid Belinda Moreno, stupid teachers, and stupid people staring at the two of us and wondering why we weren't sitting next to each other.
I threw my notebook in my purse and grabbed it, standing up, biting my lip as I walked past Belinda and Colin. I stopped at our teacher, Mrs. Santiago's desk, tapping her on the shoulder.
"I'm not feeling well," I said.
She nodded, and then shot a knowing glance at Colin. We had been inseparable since we got together, and I knew that everyone could tell something was going on between us, and it wasn't good. She patted my shoulder.
"I'll write you a note to go home; just clear it with the attendance office," she said. "Get some rest, Miss Quinn."
I nodded, watching patiently as she scribbled a quick note for me. I shot a quick text to Hanna, letting her know to contact the school and give me permission to leave campus. She agreed without hesitation, without asking why. I knew that I was home free.
I thanked Mrs. Santiago and headed for the door.
"Nickayla?" Colin asked. "Are you okay?"
I stopped short, amazed that he could take his attention off Belinda long enough to talk to me. I felt sick to my stomach.
"Like you care," I spat, looking pointedly at Belinda and racing out of the classroom as fast as my feet could take me.
I trudged past the lockers and out of the building. I wanted my bed. I wanted to cuddle with Emerson or Kenzie, I wanted to eat a pint of Chunky Monkey all by myself, and I wanted to cry myself to sleep. I got to my car, throwing my bag inside it as I hopped in.
My phone buzzed inside my purse, and I reached for it. Colin's picture flashed across the screen, but I pressed ignore as I sped out of the school parking lot. I couldn't get to my house fast enough. It was just like the night Kyle raped me. It was just like that night. I couldn't get far away fast enough. Luckily for me, my house was only two blocks away from the school, and it didn't take long for me to get there.
I knew that no one was home, and that was the first highlight of the day. The second one was knowing that no one would be able to bother me for a couple hours at least.
Mom and Daddy were at work; Nomi was over at her friend's house, and Nikky was with Sarah and Emerson.
I raced inside, much like I did every time I was upset and I needed refuge in my room. I wrenched the door open and ran up to my room--the feeling was all too familiar. When I got upstairs, I slammed the door to my bedroom behind me, finally letting the tears fall as I tossed everything off my dresser. I was only given a few seconds of refuge before I heard my bedroom door creaking open.
"Nickayla," Colin said, quietly.
I whipped around and slapped him so fast that I didn't even remember thinking about it. He held his hands up, a shocked expression etched on his face. I pounded his chest and his arms with my fists, throwing all my weight into them as I did so. I was sweating, crying, screaming as I wailed on him. I expected him to toss me on the bed, to grab my arms, to do something to get me to stop hitting him, but instead, he surprised me.
He wrapped his arms a
round me gently as we both fell to the floor, and I struggled against his grasp.
"Nickayla, what happened?" he whispered in my ear, his voice soothing, calming, reassuring.
I shook my head, thrashing wildly to escape the hold he had on me, both mentally and physically. Why did he have to be so strong? Why couldn't he have left me be? I didn't need him. I didn't need anything from him. I needed to be alone.
"Let go of me! Don't you fucking touch me!" I shrieked. "Why are you even here? You don't care about me! You don't love me!"
At the accusation, I startled myself. Even so, I wrestled against him, fighting with all my might. I wasn't going to let him hold me. I wasn't going to let this happen. I wasn't going to let my guard down. It couldn't happen again. I would protect myself this time; I would protect my heart this time. I couldn't let him hurt me.
"Nickayla, I do care about you," he huffed, frustrated. "I do love you."
"No you don't!" I screamed, my voice jumping three octaves.
"Yes I do."
His voice was calm, steady, the voice of reason. Somehow, that only pissed me off more.
"No you don't!" I screeched.
He released me only slightly, grabbing my shoulders tightly in his hands and shaking me vigorously.
"Yes I do!" he yelled back at me. "What happened?"
My eyes widened, fear and pain hidden in my soul. I couldn't tell him. I promised myself that I would never tell. I deserved it. I deserved what happened to me that night at Ben's party, and I deserved every terrible emotion that I'd felt since then.
I shook my head, trying to keep myself together. I wouldn't fall apart in front of him.
"Nickayla, what happened?" he ordered, shaking me again.
I pulled away from him, using all my strength to release myself from the grip that he had on me. I doubled over, my hair falling into my face as I screamed, not because Colin was hurting me, not because I thought he was trying to take advantage of me in my fragile state, not because I didn't want him there. I screamed because it was the only way I could voice what actually was hurting me. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I had to let it out or it would kill me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, only stopping when Colin released me and I gasped for air, my head on my knees as I wrapped my arms around my waist. My body wracked with sobs, shaking and convulsing in a way that I hadn't known was possible. I squeezed my arms tighter, fighting to keep myself from falling apart.
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