So Much It Hurts (20 page)

I groaned into my pillow. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

Food was the last thing on my mind. But, I appreciated my mom for trying to smooth the waters between us. “Okay, I will. Thanks. Just leave it there. I’ll get it in a minute when I get dressed.”

“Okay, honey. Please try to eat something.”

“I will,” I promised.

I heard her set down the plate and skitter down the steps. Dragging myself off my bed, I got dressed in some pink pajama pants and a plain white tank top. I knew I didn’t want to leave my room, much less the house, so my lounge clothes seemed like the best option. Opening the door, I found a steaming hot plate of scrambled eggs, grits, and bacon. The smell invaded my nostrils, and immediately my stomach growled. The last time I had eaten anything had been lunch the day before.

Closing my door again, I sat in my chair and balanced the plate on my knees. I grabbed a slice of bacon and took a bite. My ravenous stomach eagerly welcomed the morsel, and I quickly realized how starved I truly felt. After devouring the rest of it, I sat the empty plate on the floor. There was only enough room on my desk for my desktop computer. I logged into instant messenger, and the familiar sound of the creaking door alerted me that several of my friends were logging on as well.

Sk8erboi04: Hey Kaitlyn

FirstFlutegirl87: Girlfriend, what’s up?

GoBulldogs42: Yo Katydid! How u doin girl?

Ugh.
I don’t know what I was thinking…mere habit I guess. Maybe it was a desperate attempt for some type of normalcy, but I just wasn’t in the mood. The thought of trying to carry on a conversation with anyone churned my stomach. Just before I logged off, a familiar screen name popped up.

ChrisRocknRollKing: Hey, u there?

I stared at the blinking cursor in the reply box, debating my next move. I just wanted to crawl back into bed and forget the world. Finally, I let my fingers begin typing.

Cheerchick88: I’m here

ChrisRocknRollKing: u ok?

Cheerchick88: not really

ChrisRocknRollKing: I’m sorry

Cheerchick88: not your fault

ChrisRocknRollKing: I know. I just hate you’re having a rough day

‘Rough day’ was the understatement of the decade, but I couldn’t blame him. He had no idea.

Cheerchick88: Sorry about my mom last night.

ChrisRocknRollKing: I don’t blame her. She just doesn’t understand. She’s trying to protect you. I get that. I wish she would give me a chance. But it’s all good. I understand.

My eyes brimmed with tears. He was right. She didn’t understand. No one understood.

Cheerchick88: I wish things were different

ChrisRocknRollKing: Me too

Cheerchick88: Thanks for being there for me when I needed you

ChrisRocknRollKing: I will always be here for you when you need me

I needed him more than I was willing to admit to myself or anyone else. I needed someone to erase my pain. I needed the hurt from the day before to be eliminated by his—or anyone’s—reassuring hug. I wished I was younger again, when I was still small enough to climb into my mom’s lap. I missed that comforting feeling of being safe in my mom’s arms.

Cheerchick88: Thank you. I needed to hear that.

ChrisRocknRollKing: I mean every word

Cheerchick88: I appreciate it. I’m gonna go lay down. Not feeling well. Ttyl

ChrisRocknRollKing: Ok, hope u feel better soon.

Cheerchick88: me 2

I logged out and sat back in my chair. Covering my face with my hands, I sucked in a deep, staggering breath. I wasn’t sure I could face the world at school the next day. I wasn’t ready. The thought of coming face to face with Trevor nearly launched me into a full blown panic attack. I clambered for my bed—my safety net. Hiding beneath the blankets, I tried to make myself invisible. Curling up into a tiny ball, I cried myself to sleep, hoping I would wake up to a new reality instead of the horrific nightmare that had become my life.

My mom continued to check on me throughout the day, bringing me food and checking my head for fever. Lying to her, I told her I thought I might have a stomach virus. I guess it wasn’t technically lying; my stomach really was tied in knots over the impending school day. I didn’t log into instant messenger again the rest of the day. I just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pretend I was fine, when really I just wanted to disappear.

After hours of praying for a new day, the sun finally set, and I welcomed the glow of the starry “night sky” stickers of my ceiling. Memories of my friendship with Renae and our time of innocence, when we used to sit up all night eating ice cream and talking about kissing boys, crept into my mind. For once that day, I felt a fleeting smile cross my face.

The next morning, my clock radio alarm woke me up with the song
My Immortal
by Evanescence. I threw a pillow at it to try to shut it off. It was the last song I needed the radio deejay to play that morning. Unfortunately my pillow just knocked the radio off my bedside table onto the carpet below, but the song kept playing. The lyrics infiltrated my mind; lyrics about unyielding pain and haunted dreams crept their way into my soul and bubbled the ache of my own affliction to the surface. I just couldn’t face my demons that day. I curled myself up tighter under my blankets and prayed my mother wouldn’t notice my absence from the breakfast table.

Within minutes, the soft knock at the door told me my prayers didn’t work. “Kaitlyn, are you okay?”

“No, mom. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to school today. Stomach bug kept me up all night,” I lied.

I had never skipped school before, so my mother would never suspect my lies. She opened the door and poked her head in. “All right, honey. I’ve got some errands to run today. I’m taking Grandma to the doctor. I hope you feel better. I’ll bring you some chicken soup for lunch.”

“Thanks, mom.”

My mother disappeared and I clutched my pillow to my chest. The pit of my stomach felt like it held a lead cannon ball that weighed me down, pressing me to the bed and suffocating me amongst the pillows and blankets. A few minutes later, mom reappeared with a package of plain white salted crackers and a glass of ginger ale. “I hope you can keep this down,” she said, laying the items on my desk. “Take little bites and small sips.”

“I will. Thank you,” I whispered.

“I love you, Kaitlyn. You know that?” She looked at me as if she wanted to say more, but refrained.

“I know, Mom. I love you too.” I cracked a tiny reassuring smile.

“Okay then. I’ll see you later.” She patted my head gently and walked out the door.

I nestled into my pillows. I knew I couldn’t sleep all day. Eventually I had to face reality, but just not that day. I grabbed my diary and wrote furiously until my hand ached, spilling into it my innermost secrets.

Oddly enough, I didn’t feel as sad as I thought I might. Instead, I was angry. I hated Trevor for what he did. I hated him more than I had hated anyone before. I was ashamed that I let him treat me like a prisoner until it was too late. He stole a sacred part of me, and instead of cowering like the willing victim I had let myself become over the last two years, it lit a burning rage in me I didn’t even know existed. His gruesome act only fueled my fury, and I knew I would no longer succumb to him or any other guy who treated me less than what I deserved.

By the afternoon, my mom had brought me the chicken soup, which I devoured. She was happy to see me feeling well enough to eat. She checked on me once again that afternoon to refill my ginger ale and was glad to see I’d taken a shower, gotten dressed, and had even applied some make-up. I told her I was feeling better, and to be honest, I really was. I knew I would never fully recover from the unspeakable act Trevor put me through, but I also knew a part of me felt more empowered than I ever had before. I was no longer going to be his victim. I was no longer going to allow myself to be a pawn in Trevor’s little game of manipulation. My hurt and anger spawned confidence that I wouldn’t have felt otherwise.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I logged into my instant messenger. Three messages popped up immediately. One message was from Allison. It simply read, ‘Where are you?’ I didn’t respond. I just couldn’t. I didn’t even know how I would face her the next day.

The second message was from Trevor. ‘Why are you not at school?’
Are you kidding me?
What an asshole. I didn’t know who he thought he was, but I had words for him that had been reeling in my mind for two days.
Fuck him!

The third message was from Chris. ‘I went to school today and searched for you but you weren’t there, so I skipped out. Are you okay?’

I looked, and he was online.

ChrisRocknRollKing: Thank god you just logged in. I was about one second away from driving to your house!

Cheerchick88: I’m here. Thanks for checking on me

ChrisRocknRollKing: I was worried

Cheerchick88: I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t go to school today

ChrisRocknRollKing: What happened?

Cheerchick88: Stomach bug

ChrisRocknRollKing: I’m calling bullshit, but I understand if u don’t wanna tell me

Cheerchick88: I’ll be back tomorrow

ChrisRocknRollKing: Good ☺ See you then

Cheerchick88: See ya later

I logged out of instant messenger and shut down my computer, realizing I needed to get out of the house. I needed to get out of my bedroom before I completely shut down or lost my mind. I told my mom that I felt much better and had totally recuperated. I insisted that I needed to get out of the house for some fresh air. She eyed me suspiciously, but granted me permission to leave.

I drove to Chris’s house later that evening. I didn’t know what he would think, or how he would react. Honestly, I didn’t even know what I would say. But at that moment, he was the only person I felt safe enough with to talk to. I couldn’t be sure that I would even tell him about what happened. I didn’t even want to think about it, much less discuss it. But I just needed to hang out with someone for a little while. Maybe hanging out with him would help get the past weekend off my mind.

He was sitting on the front porch playing his guitar when I drove up. As soon as he saw my car pull into the driveway, he laid his guitar down and rushed over to open my car door. Gently, he pulled me out of the driver’s seat and hugged me. His little brother, who looked to be about ten years old, watched us while he dribbled a basketball under the goal in his driveway.

“Hey,” his brother said, throwing a hand up to wave at me. I waved back, smiling through my tears.

Chris pulled back to look me in the eyes. “I was worried I would never see you outside of school again,” he whispered.

“I just needed to see you. I just wanted to talk,” I admitted.