Authors: J. Lynn
“What do you think I’m saying, Avery? There are some obvious issues with you and no, don’t fucking look at me like I kicked your puppy. Do you think I’d break up with you because of whatever the hell went on with you? Just like you thought I’d think differently of you when I saw the scar on your wrist? I know you think that and that’s bullshit.” Sorrow and raw anger flooded his voice. “How can there be any future for us if you can’t be honest with me? If you can’t really trust that how I feel about you is strong enough, then we have nothing. This is the shit that ends relationships. Not the past, Avery, but the
present
.”
My breath caught. “Cam, please—”
“No more, Avery.
I told you before. All I asked from you was to trust me and not shut me out.” He turned to the door. “And you don’t trust me and you shut me out again.”
And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. I made it to the couch before my legs gave out. Sitting down, I pressed my knees to my chest. There was a cracking in my chest, my heart, and the pain was so very real.
My mouth opened, but I didn’t make a sound.
I never made a sound.
Chapter 30
I stayed in bed and slept most of Thursday and Friday. A thick and suffocating feeling laid over me like a too-heavy blanket. I’d screwed up. Royally. That was the self-pitying mantra that I repeated over and over. It was the truth and it was all I could think about.
Not how I planned on kicking off my spring recess.
Burying my head into the pillow, I stayed away from my phone, because if I checked it and Cam hadn’t called then I’d feel worse. Pointless thing was I knew he wouldn’t call.
And there was no doubt in my mind that I was
in
love with him. There was a difference between loving someone and being in love and I had let it slip through my fingers.
Cam had enough.
He’d trusted me, and in a way, I’d thrown that trust back in his face. If he’d known everything, things could’ve gone down differently between us Wednesday night. But I had remained silent, like I had all these years.
At some point during Saturday, the deep cutting sorrow gave way to something else. I threw off the blanket and stood in the middle of the room, breathing in raggedly. Spinning around, I picked up a bottle of lotion and threw it across the room. The bottle hit the closet door and then thudded off the floor.
Not satisfied, I grabbed another bottle and threw it harder. That one hit the wall, cracking the plaster. There went my security deposit.
I didn’t care.
Anger rose around me like a hot steam. I whirled, pulling the comforter and sheets off the bed.
Then I attacked my closet.
I hated the boring sweaters, the turtlenecks, the cardigans, and the ill-fitting shirts. I hated everything, but most of all, I hated myself for doing
this
. Crying out, I yanked them down. Hangers rocked and fell to the floor. Tears blurred my eyes as I turned, seeking something else to destroy, but there really wasn’t anything. No pictures to throw. No paintings to rip from the walls. There was nothing. I was so pissed—pissed at myself.
Moving to the hallway, I leaned against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. Breathing heavily, I kicked my head back and bit back a scream.
The silence was
killing
me.
And that’s all there ever was. Silence. It was all I knew. Keep quiet. Pretend nothing had happened, that nothing was wrong. And look how well that was turning out.
I slid down the wall and opened my eyes. They were as dry as I felt on the inside, brittle.
Who did I have to blame for that? Blaine? His parents? Mine? Did it matter? Never once did I stand up to my parents and tell them what I thought. I just shut up and took it—took it until I could run away.
Problem was, running away wasn’t working anymore. It never worked in the first place and how long did it take me to figure that out? Five years, almost six? And how many miles? Thousands?
And then, like fucking clockwork, I heard my phone ring from the living room.
Shoving to my feet, I stalked out there, the back of my skull tingling as I saw UNKNOWN CALLER flash across the screen. I grabbed the phone and pressed the answer button.
“What?” I said, my voice shaking.
Nothing. More fucking silence.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” I demanded. “What? You have nothing to say? You’ve only been calling and texting for nine months? I’d think you’d have a shit ton to say.”
There was another pregnant pause and then, “I can’t believe you answered.”
My eyes widened. Holy shit, the voice belonged to a girl. The person who was calling me and most likely emailing me was a girl.
A girl.
Who knows what I expected, but I sure as hell didn’t expect a
girl
.
I could only say one word. “Why?”
“Why?” The girl coughed out a dry laugh. “You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you? You didn’t even read a single email I sent you? Not one?”
She was questioning me? “Well, when I saw the content in a couple of them, I decided to not torture myself.”
“I’ve been emailing you
since
June, trying to talk to you. There was nothing wrong with the first couple of emails I sent you. If you just read one of them, you would’ve seen that. Then again, why should I even believe that you didn’t read them since you have such an infamous background of telling the truth.”
Plopping down, I frowned. “
Who
are you?”
“God, this is fucking unbelievable. My name is Molly Simmons.”
My eyes widened. “Molly?”
“You sound like you recognize my name. I guess you did read the emails.”
“No—my cousin told me about you.” I was on my feet again, pacing. “I didn’t read your emails. I’m not lying about that.”
“Well, that would be the first time you told the truth if that’s the case,” she said, and I heard a door slam.
I didn’t know what to say. Shell-shocked—I was absolutely dumbfounded. “I don’t know… God, I’m so sorry for what you—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” she cut in, her voice razor sharp. “I’m sorry means absolutely fucking nothing to me.”
My mouth hung open as I shook my head, which was stupid, because it wasn’t like she could see any of that.
“You’re a fucking lying whore. Because of you—”
“Hey! Seriously. You’re calling me a whore? You have to see how messed up that is.” My hand tightened around the phone. “Honestly, every single disgusting message you have sent me is messed up. And I don’t even understand why you’d do this.”
“Why?” Her voice turned shrill. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes!”
There was an audible breath. “Tell me on thing. What was true? What you told the police or what Blaine told every one?”
I sucked in a breath.
“Which is it, Avery? Because if it was true, why did you drop the charges knowing what he was capable of? Because you had to know that there was something wrong with him and that he’d do it again.”
My shoulders caved in and I whispered, “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand completely. Either way, you’re a liar.” Molly’s breath crackled over the phone. “Do you know why I wanted to get in contact with you? Because I needed to talk to someone who’d been through what I had been through and I thought—” Her voice cracked. “It doesn’t matter what I thought or why I did. You didn’t even take the time to read a single, fucking email. The least you could do is to tell me the truth.”
I closed my eyes, resting my forehead on my palm. My head was still spinning from what happened with Cam and this blew my mind. There had been so many emails from accounts I didn’t recognize. Many with my name as the subject or Blaine’s. And I hadn’t opened them because I hadn’t wanted to deal with it, but I never thought it was her.
Then again, would that really have changed anything? Would I have opened them and reached out to her? Legal aspects of the non-disclosure aside, would I?
I’d be lying if I said I thought I would.
“Are you there?” Molly demanded.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat, lifting my head. The ball in my chest unraveled a little. “I didn’t lie.”
“So it was true?” Her voice sounded closer to the phone. “And you dropped the charges.”
My body tensed like a coiled rope. “Yes, but you—”
“Why would you do that?” Her voice was raw. “How could you? How could stay silent this long?”
“I—”
“You’re a coward. You cling to your silence because you’re a coward! You’re still the same scared, fourteen year old girl pretending to be over it years later!” she shouted, and my ear popped. “This happened to me because you didn’t tell the truth. You can tell yourself whatever you want, but that’s the truth. And we both know it.”
Molly hung on me.
I sat there, staring at my phone. Anger still boiled inside me, but some of what she had said had sunken through the red haze and it made sense.
“You cling to your silence because you’re a coward! You’re still the same scared, fourteen year old girl pretending to be over it years later!”
She was right.
God, she was so right. All these years and I had never uttered the words since that night. I was too scared to tell anyone, to even tell Cam. And that was why he’d walked out of here, because he had also been right. I hadn’t let go of the past and there was no future unless I did so. All I’d been doing this entire time was pretending—pretending to be okay, to be completely happy, to be a survivor.
And I wasn’t a survivor. For too many years, I’d been nothing more than a victim on the road.
Molly didn’t know the whole story. Probably wouldn’t change anything if she did, but
surviving
and being a
survivor
were two different things. That’s what I’d been doing this whole time. Just surviving, waiting for the day when what Blaine had done to me would not tarnish everything that was good in my life.
I dropped my head into my hands. Tears welled up in my eyes.
Instead, there were things I could’ve done differently. I couldn’t change what had happened to me, but I could’ve changed the way I reacted, especially now when I was so far away from those who had hindered any attempts to overcome it. But to be honest, it was more than that. It had always been more than Blaine. It had been my parents—it had been me.
The only way I could truly move on was to confront what had happened, to do something I had been punished for doing in the first place.
It wasn’t the past that was coming between us.
It was the present.
Cam had been right.
Suddenly, I shot to my feet. I was moving before I knew what I was doing. It was when I stood in front of Cam’s apartment door that my heart leapt in my throat. It was probably too late for us, but if I told him—if I could explain myself—then that was a start. Either way, I owed it to Cam.
I owed it to myself.
I knocked and heard footsteps a few seconds later. The door swung open, revealing Cam. His eyes immediately closed and his mouth opened, and I knew he was going to tell me to leave.
“Can we talk?” I asked, voice cracking halfway through. “Please, Cam. I won’t take up much of your time. I just—”
Cam’s eyes flew open and then narrowed on me. “Are you okay, Avery?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Part of me wanted to turn and go back to my apartment, but I refused to allow myself to run. Not anymore. “I just need to talk to you.”
Taking a deep breath, he stepped aside. “Ollie’s not here.”
Relieved that he hadn’t shut the door in my face, I followed him into the living room. Cam picked up the remote, muting the TV as he sat on the couch. “What’s going on, Avery?” he asked, and his tone suggested that he didn’t expect me to answer truthfully, and that hurt.
It hurt because he had no reason to expect me to be upfront about anything.
I sat on the edge of the recliner, unsure of where to start. “Everything.” And that was all I could say at first. “Everything.”
Cam scooted forward, twisting the cap he wore backward. An adorable habit that said he was paying attention. “Avery, what’s going on?”
“I haven’t been honest with you and I’m sorry.” My lower lip started to tremble and I knew I was seconds from losing it. “I’m so sorry, and you probably don’t have time for—”
“I have time for you, Avery.” He met my gaze with a steady one. “You want to talk to me, I’m here. I’ve been here. And I’m listening.”
As he held my gaze, fight or flight kicked. Instinct. Run. Don’t deal with it. But Cam kept holding my gaze and something unlocked inside me. It wasn’t easy, but the words were tumbling up. I wouldn’t run.