"Come here."
"Why?"
"I want to feel you."
I hesitantly stepped closer to him and leaned into his embrace. I was comforted by the warmth of the hug, but then it happened.
I remember violently screaming. Walking home crying. I remember…
My room was silent, but I covered my ears from the cacophony of the event 3 months ago. I screamed into the silent penthouse, screaming for this to be over, for this to be forgotten. Eventually I collapsed, sobbing.
I woke the next morning on a black mascara stained pale pink pillow. Shit. The only reason I put on makeup the other day was because my mother bought me some high-end stuff for an early Thanksgiving gift, and asked me to text her a pic. I put on my best fake smile as Jessie snapped a picture on my phone. She patted my back as she handed it back to me. "Things will get better," she whispered. But I know they won't.
In the daylight, I feel okay. I usually stay in my room all the time, except for dinner. Sometimes my room comforts me. Most times, though, I end up crying. In the end I can tell myself that it's over, but the next hour I remember it never will be.
The family has noticed my sudden depression. They haven't said anything yet though… they know what happens when they question my motives.
The day it happened, I ran into the penthouse screaming, soaked in tears, my skirt torn. "What happened to you? Where have you been? I thought you went out with Spencer!" Jessie said.
"I did go out with Spencer!" I managed to mutter through my sobs. I half ran, half walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stripped off my clothes. Jessie just stood there, silent, maybe tearing. I couldn't tell. I stepped into the shower, not bothering to pull across the shower curtain. Then I just sat beneath the stream of water, on the cold, hard tile, with my face between my knees and my knees to my chest. I sobbed for a good 10 minutes before Jessie patted my back and told me to take a deep breath.
I told her everything, beginning from when Spencer and I started dating even though she already knew. I had told he a million times out of excitement.
Spencer was 15, I was 14. We started dating in August, and it was nothing but an innocent crush. Nothing really even escalated from that. This time of October, we were still blushing at each other in the halls. We went on our second date last Saturday. A walk, and then dinner at a place his dad owns near the park. Innocent.
Then, we held hands and he began to walk be home. We were 2 blocks from my place, when he stepped in front of me and pulled my over to the side, into a small dip between a Thai restaurant and a laundry place. The dip didn't even qualify as an alley.
Then something unexpected happened – he planted the sweetest most loving kiss on my lips. I smiled into the kiss, and kissed him back. After a minute of this he was obviously was very into it and he began moving his hands around my butt. I stepped back.
"Come here."
"Why?"
"I want to feel you."
I hesitantly stepped closer to him and leaned into his embrace. I was comforted by the warmth of the hug, but then it happened.
Jessie shed a tear, and I was obvious to both of us that I had been hurt, hence the steady stream of blood slowly streaming from between my feet. She told me to stand up and clean up, and to meet her in her room soon.
I stepped out of the shower. I threw on my PJ pants and a tank, and threw my hair in a messy bun. Then I slugged over to Jessie's room. She was sitting on her bed and I plopped down beside her.
We talked for a long time. It was 3 when she finally gave me a hug, silently concluding the conversation. I fell asleep in her arms.
It's been 3 months since it happened. Jessie called me into her room again last night. We had the same conversation, it feels like. But this time, I walked away feeling better. "I will always be here for you." And then she hugged me. "It will get better."
And for the first time in months, I actually felt like she was right.