Left With The Consequences

Dear Diary,

No one understands. They’re saying they do, but they don’t know a thing. No one does, until they experience it on their own skin. I didn’t get it either, no matter how hard I try to made myself imagine how it feels. It never prepares you for the real thing.

I’ve had someone touch my body in ways I didn’t want them to touch. And I know that I’m never going to be the same person again. All I want to do is hide away. I made Hunter swear he won’t tell anyone. Not even his best friend. Which happens to be my brother.

I haven’t even told my own best friend, because I’m too afraid she’d tell the same person my boyfriend would tell. My brother. If Aiden finds out, my parents do. And I don’t want them to know. I’m too ashamed of what happened to me.

Benji and Stavros took care of that guy. I’m not sure in what way or what it means, but I’m sure they didn’t just hand him over to the professors. Well, they did. After they took care of him in another way. Hunter told me he was expelled, but I didn’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything about the guy, who almost r***d me.

There. I wrote it down now. And now, I want it to stay here, hidden away from the rest of the world. It’s out of my head. I won’t let it enter my mind again. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.

I feel completly numb the whole ride home. I flinch at every sound, despite knowing that it's just the train tracks creating friction with the train. Despite that, reason doesn't take over.

Hunter holds me so carefully, like he's afraid I'm going to fall apart in his arms if he uses too much force. I shiver as the word lingers inside my head in a really unpleasant way.

"Are you cold?" he asks quietly and I shake my head immediately. He shuts up, the silence making me realize he's starting to figure out. He's a smart guy. The smartest I've ever met.

I look at him, hitting a gaze full of worry and pain. I try to ease whatever's going through his head by saying: "There's nothing you can do to make me feel better. It's not your fault."

A thousand emotions seem to flicker across his face as he shakes his head at me, like he's unable to believe that I just said that. What did I say though? I'm trying to make him understand. I'm trying to not hurt his feelings.

"Perrie, that's not true. If I didn't react the way I did, if I came with you upstairs ... None of this would've happened if I wouldn't make this the most interesting game in the world for him. The moment I took one look at him, I realized he's a predator ..." He cuts himself off the moment he realizes I've started crying. "I'm sorry, I'm ... God, I'm so sorry," he tells me in the softest tone I've ever heard him use.

And despite my traitorous body's need to scatter away and turn down any proximity, I force myself to bury my head into his chest. As I feel him breathe out in a cautious way, I realize I'm holding my own breath in. It soon bursts out in a series of violent sobs, which finally makes his facade fall apart.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, while I sob into his chest. I'm trying not to panic as I feel his tight grip around me. He's not holding himself back anymore. And no matter how hard I try to keep it together, it's starting to suffocate me. It's making me panic.

My breathing gets so loud and rapid that he pulls away in surprise, only to realize what I'm actually doing. That I'm forcing myself into enduring this for his sake. For the sake of keeping our relationship intact. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself that I'm doing.

He lets go of me, his touch getting so gentle again that it's barely there. He doesn't say anything, but I can see his questioning gaze. He wants to know if this is okay. I nod, despite barely being able to keep my s**t together.

I shiver the whole way to our train station, through our walking distance home and then, even under the shower, as I pour hot, almost boiling water over my body. Hunter doesn’t come into the bathroom with me like he usually does and instead leaves me some space. One that I desperately need.

I sit down on the tiles and let hot water run down my scarred body. I can see bruises are already starting to form, but I don’t want to look at them. However, as I close my eyes, I realize that I don’t want to look at the place inside my mind either.

Whenever I shut my eyes close, images start flashing through it like a horror movie. Foreign hands, touching me, that sinister smile that refused to fade even as I fought back. I fought back like a lioness. I fought for my life.

I start sobbing violently again, making water run with a higher pressure, so it muffles the sounds. I don’t want Hunter to come in. What was going to be a beautiful night ended up a disaster. And I have no way of fixing it. I don’t know when I’ll be able to stand anyone touching me.

I know that I take forever, but I can’t help myself. After the flood of tears stops, it gets replaced by anger. Why? Why am I the one that feels disgusted about herself, when someone else is responsible? He’s the one that needs to feel icky, not me!

My emotions swirl dangerously, threatening to spill over the edge. I can’t believe that this is my life. Hunter should be with me right now, enjoying another special moment together and instead, he’s out there, probably wondering what to do to make me feel better. While I’m in here, switching between raging and crying hysterically.

As the anger tones down, I feel disgust again. I get on my feet and start scrubbing myself violently. This needs to go. I need to be clean. I have to get rid of this disgusting feeling on my body, right now. If I have to, I’ll peel my own skin off. I just can’t stay like this anymore.

When I come out of the shower, Hunter is staring at me with a familiar gaze. He knows. He knows that I’ve been crying and he probably knows that I’ve scrubbed every last inch of my body in order to get rid of the feeling that I’m dirty. But that feeling has nothing to do with the state of my body and everything to do with the mental scar that just imprinted itself on my mind.

He doesn’t say anything, he simply squeezes my hand in support and walks to the shower. As I wait for him, I can’t even sleep. It seems like I’m in a state of shock again, unable to move, unable to talk, but very much able to think.

I just lie there, tears soon starting to stream down my face. But I don’t sob anymore. They just flow down my cheeks softly, and I don’t have the strength or the will to wipe them away. Not even as the door of the bathroom opens and Hunter stops in the middle of the doorway.

He stares at me, and I keep staring at the ceiling, still crying silently. He walks over to the bed with much hesitation. I already think I’m going to hide into the corner so I won’t have to touch him in my sleep, but I don’t.

Instead, I let him lie down next to me and have him caress my arm softly. He runs his hand up and down, from my elbow to my shoulder. I still can’t move. I just slowly turn my head and look at him. This isn’t his fault. None of this is. The important thing is, I was saved before the worst. Then why do I still feel so hopeless?

The moment he notices my gaze, his arms slide closer to me, giving me a proper hug now. But all of a sudden, it’s not enough. I can’t handle this anymore. “Hold me,” I finally manage to squeeze out of my mouth, having him stiffen for a moment before he scoots a little closer and pulls me to his front.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. He just hold me silently while I cry in his arms, knowing that I won’t get much sleep tonight.