Loosen Up, a 13 to life fanfic

Loosen Up

Preface

Dejavu is a strange sensation. It's like knowing the tune of a song, but having the lyrics dancing on the tip of your tongue. I can feel it now, with the rubbing alcohol smell lingering in the room. It's cold and quiet, except for a faint ring. I try to move a little, but I can't- something's holding me back. I open my eyes to be blinded by the light. Squinting, I look around.

It's obvious that I'm hospitalized. I can see the heart monitor next to me; it's the only thing making noise beside the soft hum of the machines. I try to shift, but there are cables entwined in my arms. I look at myself. I look fine. I can see a few spots of blue and purple along my arms, but other than that I look good. But I don't feel okay.

I reach for my legs under the blanket wrapping me, and I feel my bare skin. I look down- I'm wearing a thin layer of cloth they must've put on me. A plain dress I didn't own. They must have examined me- thoroughly. I can almost feel the ghostly fingerprints around my thighs; the sudden familiarity sends goosebumps down my spine. I start to panic. It's been half a year, could they have even found out anything? Was there anyway there was some residue from that night so long ago? I did not want to take that chance.

A small part in the back of my mind notices how the heart monitor picks up pace. I can't seem to catch a break- so much for trying to get back to normal. I look around for my backpack, I need to call Nick. Stupidly, I remember he was there with me. I need to get out, I need to find him. I turn to the chair next to mine, and my blood runs cold when I recognize my mother's handbag.

Chapter 1

My mom and I use to joke around saying I had ADHD. We knew it was something to not joke about, but I could never concentrate on one thing at a time and I was always fidgeting around. I was always tapping my feet, drumming with my fingers, or singing. I was always doing something. It's strange to break out of that tradition.

I lie on my bed, still, as my eyes roam around my room. I need to make a plan on what I should do next. I should start thinking about my next move, but my mind keeps taking me to last night. You know, I always see these kinds of stories on the news. Girls being found dead and naked after a crazy party or going out to a concert. I see them around me so much, I had never believed it would happen to me. It seemed impossible. Seemed. Ugh.

I contemplate my options. It happened, that's a fact, but what do I do now? I could tell my mom; that's what I'm supposed to do, right? But it's already happened- having people know wouldn't make a difference, would it? I mean, what could she do about it? Her knowing or not knowing wouldn't make a difference. The memory will always be there. What if my mother doesn't believe me? A sick and appalling scapegoat to get out of chores and school. What if she blames me or gets angry? What if-

"Callie, sweetie, come on. Breakfast is ready. If you don't hurry, your food is going to get cold."

Tense, I turn to look at my mom, and she gives me a smile. She taps my door before turning away. I frown. I sort of expected her to notice something different. Whatever happened to motherly extinct or mother's intuition for that matter? Where is it when I desperately need it? Or do I really want it? I shakily get up from my bed, and I move weirdly. I realize my legs are still sore…

Disgusted, I take a deep breath before walking towards my bathroom. I harshly rinse my face and then brush my teeth, trying to get rid of his unwanted fingerprints. I can feel them around my body. Nausea is strongly trying to get to me but I push it back and act like I don't know the reason for its appearance. I change into the clothes I had picked out days before, without looking at my body.

I walk downstairs and softly greet my mother who's humming while cooking. She looks as if she doesn't have a care in the world. I wish I could be that way. I wish she could just see what I am going through. That she could run over, hug me, and tell me everything is going to be okay. Or she could be disgusted with you for the rest of your life for letting it happen. I mean, you already are with yourself.

Either way, even if I wanted to tell her what happened, it's like my lips can't form the right words. I don't even know what the right words are. How do you explain to your mother that you've been- god. I can't begin to say the word. It seems to a physical and emotional pain to try. I should probably stop thinking about it. I should start walking to school. I need to get my mind off of this. I just need to clear my head.

"Mom, I'm not that hungry. I'm going to school. I'll see you later," I said walking to the door, my voice wavering a bit, with the strange nervousness.

"Okay, sweetie, bye." she waves. I make my way, but before I walk any further, I turn. I lock the door.

Once.

Twice.

I jam my key and unlock and lock it one more time. Uneasily, I leave.

I've taken about 20 steps away from my lawn when I suddenly hear a honk behind me. I freeze. My mind jumps to the worst scenario. Is it possible that it's him? I turn, but I see Nick instead. He throws a shining smile. I shake my head and get in the car.

"Why were you walking?" he asks. I shrug.

"Just wanted some fresh air."

"Ah. Well, good morning Callie!" he says smiling. I can't help but smile back a little. "So, have you heard of that dude from Broadway? Something about founding fathers and-" I drown out his voice.

I stare at him, looking as if I'm listening. Every time he talks, his face is so expressive. The sunlight coming through the windshield highlights his green eyes and shows highlights of light brown in his dark brown hair. He has a tall lanky body that always smells like freshly washed laundry. He keeps ranting and I keep not listening to a single word. My mind suddenly takes me back.

"Hello?" sings Nick while waving his hand in front of my face. I shake my head and give a sheepish smile. I look around- we're in the school parking lot. He laughs at my confused face a little and then his brilliant smile is gone and replaced with a solemn look. "I told mom."

We look at each other for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath. "I don't know what's going to happen. She got angry. Really angry. She told me all sorts of things. I defended myself but she got madder. Started saying how I was going to hell and how 'Jesus' disapproves and all that. I knew she was going to say that- but it still hurt. And she didn't talk to me this morning. At all. I don't know," he whispered, cracking at the last words.

"Honey, I am so sorry," I whisper back, holding his hand. I hug him from across the seat, which was a bit uncomfortable.

"This is uncomfortable."

"Shut up."

We get out of the car and start walking towards the school. Nick started cracking jokes as always, but I still couldn't seem to give a wholehearted laugh. My whole body hurts everytime I take a step. I try to play it off, but I can't help but limp just a bit.

As we approached school, my ears were overwhelmed with the strong buzz of conversation of other students. I never realized before just how many people come to Hale High. Irrationally, my brain tells me everyone is looking at me. I know they're not. I can't help but feel like they are. God, I want to hide. I look down at my shoes and walk faster towards the entrance.

Inside, the scene is no more tamed. There are still students flooding the halls. Clumps of students surrounded around lockers dramatically wave their hands while they talk about their lives and gossip and their latest trip to the mall. Everyone is so engulfed in their own stories. One second I feel like I'm on the spot, and now I feel completely alone.

"Callie," I hear. "Callie!" Suddenly I'm brought back to reality. Nick looks at me bewildered. "Did you even listen to me?" I sigh.

"Ugh, I'm sorry."

"What's up?" he asks. I shrug. I turn to my locker and open it. "Woah, what happened there?" says Nick, touching my arm. I flinch unexpectedly, and he raises an eyebrow. I ignore it and look. Underneath my ivory colored forearm, I can see a bluish-purplish spot starting to form. I roll my sleeve higher, and I can see three blue lines. Hands.

I shove my sleeve back down and breathe deeply. I feel sick. The heart pounding is back.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, his eyebrows scrunched together as it always is when he worries.

"I'm just nervous."

"What about?" he asks. I frantically searched for the most believable excuse.

"That math test today," I say, chuckling as best as I could, "it's going to be the death of me. I can't fail it." He laughs and crosses his arm. He smirks.

"How can you possibly fail with that amazing tutor you have?"

I give him a look. "You're my tutor."

"Exactly," he assures, winking. "Callie, don't worry. You're literally ready for it." I nod and give him a smile. I get my books and the bell rings warning me to hurry up. I wave at Nick and close my locker. I turn, quickly walking to class.

For an hour, I see my teacher walking around the classroom, lecturing us on today's lesson. For an hour, he passionately waves and grasps handfuls of air, trying to get his point across, and I come out without having a single word. All day, I can't make sense of what I hear. I keep hearing jumbled words and my mind doesn't let me concentrate.

I kept thinking about what Nick said about coming out to his mother. What kind of a mother doesn't accept their child, nonetheless their sexuality? Wait a minute.

Can my mother do this? What if she doesn't accept me? What if she stops talking to me just like Nick's mom? What if she blames me? She'd be right; I should've done something differently- then maybe things could've gone differently.

I should've gone home earlier.

I should've gotten a ride.

I should've walked faster.

I should've screamed louder.

I should've fought harder.

I should've been something other than completely useless. I should've done something. Maybe, if I get better, there'd be no need to tell her. If I get better, this would be okay. There'd be no need to tell her because it'd be useless. Everything's going to be okay.

"Ms. Fall" I snap back to reality. I'd been staring at a drawing engraved on my desk. "Thank you for joining us. Now class, " the teacher continues to talk. I try again to listen. I fail.

When the end of the day comes around, I go back to my locker, and as always, Nick is there waiting for me. He smiles at me. Reminding myself of my promise, I try to smile back.

"Why are you grimacing at me?"

"Shut up."

"No wait," he says, touching my arm. I pull back. "Seriously, what's up? You've been out of it since this morning."

"Nick don't worry. It's probably PMS. Wanna talk about that?" I say testing him. He scrunched his nose, cringing.

"No thanks."

We walk towards the parking lot and into his car. As he starts driving, I get comfortable in my seat. My whole body hurts from being forced to walk all day with whatever injuries I have. My thighs have been hurting the most all day long…

I shake my head getting rid of those thoughts again. Nick starts talking and talking, and I'm supplying less of the conversation. I make comments here and there, but I can't seem to bring myself to speak. I want to talk and laugh, but I can't.

When Nick finally gets to my house, he gives me a small hug from across the seat. I get out stiffly, my legs hurting even more. I can't help but limp noticeably.

"Woah there, why are you limping?" He asks. He suddenly gasps dramatically and raises and eyebrow. "Has little Ms. Callie been doing certain stuff?" He winks.

A cold chill runs through my back. I feel lightheaded again. I turn back, and go inside the house, trying hard not to cry.

I lock the door, multiple times. I can feel the tiny drops on my fingers, and for a split second, I wonder if my tears will make the lock slip. I check, turning and unturning to make sure, and finally go to my room. I sit on the side of my bed, facing my full-length mirror.

God, I'm a mess. I get up and cover my blinds. I lock my room door. I check everywhere to make sure there's no way anyone can look in. At last, I walk back to my mirror. With shaky fingers, I undress, with my eyes closed.

When I look up, opening my eyes, I gasp. I can see a trail of blue and purple trailing up along my hips and ribs and stop below my collarbone. My thighs are faintly red and shake the slightest. I look at my face. My long, light brown hair is unkempt and messy. There aren't any marks, but my blue eyes look broken. I hold myself. Unable to contain myself, I cry. I feel my small body collapse under me; I hold myself so I don't fall apart.

How can I possibly think about hiding this? It's ruined me. I can't. I can't. Oh my God, this actually happened to me. Oh my God. I cry, letting the feeling I've been suppressing get to me. It spreads around me, sending goosebumps all the way to my back. I lie on my bed, still holding myself. Sick of the feeling, I rush to my bathroom and turn the water on. I slip in and immediately start cleaning and washing and getting rid of every unwanted touch. I scrub and scrub until my skin gets red. Whilst in this hysteria, I throw the bar of soap to the floor. I slip down and just let myself cry. I cry and stare at the dent I've made on the soap Soon, I stop. I don't cry- I don't do anything.

I look to my side, to my mirror. My face is red and wet. My hair is messy and my blanket covers my body. I don't want to see it anymore. I'm a mess. A small part of me knows this is worse, but another part of me thinks, maybe this can help. If I don't feel the worse part of it, this can help me get over it. If not then, it will help me not worry those I love. Besides, I don't have it as bad as other people. Others have gone through so much worse than I have. If they can get through it, I can certainly get through this.

When I think of this, I can see small flickers of life in my eyes. That drives me more to my cause. I can do this. I can control my feelings and forget about this with time.

Everything's going to be okay.

Chapter 2

2 Months later

I wake up around 4 am, sweating and shaking. I gasp for the air I still think is being taken from me. I reach for my throat, but the hands aren't there anymore. I look around. After a few seconds, I try to compose myself. It was only a dream. A damn detailed one too.

I sit back on my bed, against the wall. I press my forehead on the cool wall. I rest my eyes, unable to suppress the images from the dream. I let them take over for a while…

Suddenly, my alarm goes off. The sound of it startled me so much, I nearly screamed. After a few seconds of composing myself, I stare at the ceiling, as I had been before the alarm went off. I wish I could stay here. Knowing my obligations, however, I snap out of it and start getting ready for school.

I shower, still scrubbing with frenzy, but I don't cry. My mom calls me from below, reminding me about breakfast. I get dressed, not caring what I chose. I make my way downstairs and head to the kitchen. My mom is on the phone. Quietly, I pass through the dining room and out the front door. I lock the door tightly.

After a few minutes, Nick arrives. I get in quietly, with a small smile. He gives a small smile back. The radio is on, quietly playing in the background. We get to school quickly. We park. After a few moments, he breaks the silence.

"Are you mad at Cynthia?" he blurts out, out of nowhere. I blink.

"Um.. no, I'm not. She's my friend, Nick," I respond, puzzled.

"What about Ryan or Jessica or Araia or Ashley?" He says again.

"Nick, what's this about? They're all my friends. I'm not mad at any."

"Okay, then what's up? Do you know when's the last time you've had a full conversation with them?" I wait for his answer, raising my eyebrows. He scrunches his eyebrows. "Wait…," he says quietly, "..Okay well it doesn't matter! It's been too long for you! Something is up- you know you can tell me anything." he assures, reaching to touch my shoulder slightly. I reach for my backpack before he can touch me, pretending to find something. I get out a pen.

"Nick, if I need help, I'll go to you first. I promise." I lie. Inside, I feel a bit bad. I give him my most convincing smile. He gives me a look. Probably not the most convincing smile. I sigh. "Look, I don't really know myself. But when I figure it out, I'll do what I must, okay?" I don't look him in the eye. Instead, I doodle on the palm of my hand with the pen. I see his hand reach for me one more time. This time, I let him.

"It's been a long time since you let me hold your hand," he says softly. I immediately feel guilty. His touch made me a bit squirmish, but I knew he was safe, so I squeezed his hand a bit. Then, it felt a little nice. It didn't feel so bad as before. Amazed, I gave him a genuine smile. He smiled back, brilliantly. He pulls back his hand and starts making his way out. My smile fades.

Classes go by in a blur, as always. I've learned to listen and nothing more. I maintain my grades, as high as possible to keep my parents from questioning. Slipping grades would have meant an interrogation, and I cannot afford that. I listen, but that is it. I don't have a club. I don't have a group. I go to school and go home. I don't miss school days. I'm never late. My days have become robotic. Though I've managed to maintain my grades, I usually find it hard to concentrate in class. The voices have become monotone and sort of muffled. I usually get lost in thoughts.

When the lunch bell rings, I find Nick.

"Hey, I have something to do, see you at 5th?" I ask. He gives me a look, smiles, and goes. In reality, I don't have anything to do. I had the familiar weird feeling in my stomach that warned me that being in the midst of a crowd would not be a good idea. So, I make my way towards the choir room. That place had become my safe haven. It's always empty during lunch, and I like to play around on the piano they have upstairs. When I arrive, I put my things down and relax completely first the first time in a few days. I sit on the piano bench. It's quiet. The room is lightened by a sole window right by the piano. From up here, I can see the whole campus.

I mindlessly look out to the landscape. Whilst doing this, my mind takes me elsewhere. Today's dream. God. I'd been having nightmares lately, but this one. It was so horrible and vivid. I squeeze my eyes shut hard. This dream is just another manifestation of my memories, but I cannot get used to those images flooding my mind. I clench my hands to a fist. I roll back my shoulders. I open my eyes and look back at the crowd below. They've changed. They have become potential menaces. The boys' hands suddenly look dangerous and their smiles look more like evil smirks. Great.

I am getting so tired of this. When will I ever be able to see everything without seeing anything dangerous about it? I get up, angry. I look around as if the answer would be next to me. Disappointed, I find nothing. I can't make this better. I slip back down, slowly. I let myself cry a bit. I can't do anything. 2 things happen at once. 1: I realize how completely useless I am. For a second, my mind wonders if this is how I'll keep living for the rest of my life. 2: I can't breathe.

The sudden realization sent a wave of torture and fear through me. The piano, which was inches away from my face, seemed hazy. The walls were spinning. My stomach felt sicker than ever. And I felt I couldn't breathe. My throat and chest felt tight. The only sound was the pounding of my heart. It was quicker and harder than ever. I gripped the end of the piano, hard. I tried breathing deeply, but my crying didn't help at all. Weird sobs and gasps were the only things coming out of me. After what seems like an eternity, I gradually feel my gasps minimize. I sat there, wide-eyed. Was that an anxiety attack? I breathe more deeply. Well, that was hell. The bell rings. I shakily get up. I wipe my face and go downstairs, checking myself in a mirror in the process.

I don't look so bad. My eyes are a bit puffy, but they'll calm in a bit. Students start to flood in the seats. I received some stares. I look down and get out.

When I get home, my parents are unsurprisingly not home. I go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Though, after a few bites, I lost my appetite. I go up to my room and sit on my desk. I turn and turn on my swivel chair. It's one of my constant pastimes, nowadays.

I think of today's events, and my life for the last few weeks. The bright colored memories I had have turned moody and gray. What one person did to me has affected me so much. God, I'm so weak. I let one person control how I'm going to live my life? I scoff aloud, staring at my blurred room. I spin faster. The spinning brings a feeling to my stomach. Not my usual sick feeling. Something closer to rollercoasters and fear…

I abruptly stop. I get up and get ready for bed. All night I toss and turn. I couldn't sleep. When alas, I did, I had another vivid nightmare.

Chapter 3

"Dammit Callie!" exclaims Nick suddenly, his fist coming down on the steering wheel. I look up, startled. I hadn't exactly been following the conversation. I was holding an apple Mom had given me this morning- pondering rather than eating.

"What did I do ?" I asked, surprised.

"Nothing! You do nothing! You sit with me every day and never talk. You look like you listen, but you don't. You make me feel so helpless!" He scrutinizes me. "And if you had been listening to me, you would've known what I just referenced!" I give him a look.

"Hamilton."

"Damn," he sighs in a low voice. "Still, you have this glazed look during class. What were we talking about in History yesterday?" he tests, raising an eyebrow. I bite my lip, trying hard to remember. I sigh in defeat. I take a deep breath.

"Fine," I mumbled, "look, I already told you, you'll be the first to go to if I ever need help. Okay?" He looked at me closely. His eyes were more pleading than annoyed now. Then, he let it go.

"Okay." We walked toward the cafeteria. I sat with our little group at our usual table. It was one of those rare mornings where I'd sit with all of them. I considered that since Nick called me out again, I should pay more attention to them.

"Hey," I shyly greeted. Everyone murmured a hello, with a smile. Cynthia, who was next to me, patted my hand gently. She was so soft and warm that I couldn't pull my hand away. She basically radiated comfort.

I looked closely at my friends, for the first time in forever. I noticed they were extra careful when they directed a word toward me. As if I would easily break with a wrongly said sentence. To prove them wrong in a way, I tried to talk.

Although I didn't supply the mainstream of the conversation, I gave it my full attention. I promoted a conversation here and there and "oo"d and "ah"d as called for. And although time always seemed to breeze by before, it seemed now to drag slower than ever.

Hearing them laugh and joke around made me feel a bit better. My participation became more whole-hearted.

"Class, I'm excited to announce that our dissection grant has been approved! So, today you are to meet your new partner throughout this new adventure and get anxious! We will begin tomorrow!" Mrs. Potter says in a preppy voice. At that last announcement, the class started murmuring loudly and gasping excitedly and disgustedly. All around, kids were starting to agree who would be partners with who. "No, no! I will choose your partners!" she said excitedly. And then everyone groaned and complained, but the teacher quickly shut them up, replacing her soft face with a warning, mean look. She smiled again. "Now then…"

Unable to resist, my mind drifted me off elsewhere. I thought of Nick's earlier comment. Although I didn't mention it, that comment hit home. I thought I'd been fooling everyone here. I thought I had been making a great effort- how great to see my effort was futile.

I can't hold a grudge with him though. I'm angry at myself. I have tried to be normal, to be like before, but it isn't so simple. It's been about 3-4 months now. The number of untimely panic attacks had become alarmingly frequent but now have died down. There are no physical marks anymore. Although, there is a constant sore that aches down there. It's very very benign, but it's there. I do not know if it is normal, but I do not dare have it examined and risk anyone knowing. It's been almost half a year- I should be starting to get over it in a way.

"Callie Fall." Mrs. Potter says sternly, ripping into my train of thought. Tentatively, I raise my hand, with an embarrassed face. She gives me a look and gives a small smile. "Please pay attention?" I nod. "Alright, you will be partnered with Aiden Dawson. Lisa, you will be with Riley Brown…"

I turn around, and I see Aiden giving me a hidden wave with a small smile. I smile back and turn. My smile fades. In all honesty, I am not sure how to feel.

I remember the times I used to gush endlessly about him. He was perfect. His looks and habits. His personality and actions. Now, I'm utterly unprepared and confused. He hadn't even crossed my mind since…

Hello, terrible thoughts! You're just in time, I think grumpily. I try to clear my head, but the thoughts keep nagging from their shoved corners. I try to ignore them and focus on now. I think hard. Do I still like him? I try to find an answer but I can't. I shake my head and sigh for the millionth time.

Really, this is just a project. Sure, for the rest of the quarter, but nothing more. It's nothing to be worried about. I have nothing to worry about. I hope it stays that way. I start paying attention to Mrs. Potter.

I sit on the piano bench, playing any little songs I know. As always, I'm thoughtful and so I was too distracted to hear the soft turning of the doorknob to the room I'm in.

"Hey, that sounded pretty good."

I nearly died of a heart attack. I turn around and gasp, gripping the piano bench. Aiden, wide-eyed, put his hands in the air and stayed still. I sighed out in relief, rubbing my head. This is why I close doors madly.

"Aiden, what the hell." I moaned.

"I'm sorry," he apologized sheepishly. He gives me another tentative smile. I smile tiredly back.

"What's up?" I ask. "How did you even know I was here?"

"C'mon. Every day, every student during lunch can see how you stare out at this window. You're not very easy to ignore," he notes. I give him a questioning look. He fumbles a bit with his words when he finally mumbles, "It was supposed to be a compliment."

Seeing him struggle was intriguingly funny- so funny, I actually let out a soft laugh. I touched my lips. I hadn't laughed in a very long time. I look at him, smiling even bigger. He smiles back.

"So, listen, I know this whole project agenda is going to be a lot on us for the quarter.. So how about a small break before we begin?" he stammered. I nod for him to continue. "We can go to the movies, and go out to eat," he babbles, more quickly now, "or we can go bowling! Or to a park or a library. Whatever you want to do, I can do." He breathes quickly but quietly.

I stare at him, strangely smirking. "Are you asking me out?" My smirk must've given him more confidence.

"Yes, I am," he says chuckling. "What do you say?"

What do I say? In my mind, my thoughts are rushing. Lightning fast, we're making a pro and con list. My mind is working so quick, some points are lost and brought again.

In the midst of weighing my options, I remember the promise I made myself months ago. My promise to try to live a normal life. To try to not let one thing ruin the rest of my life. This can be the beginning. I can start now and heal from there. It'd be a step closer…

All this is being thought and decided in the pause between his question and my answer. The question is: Do I let myself take more time to heal, or do I prompt a possible healing? I've left him hanging too long now…

"Sweet," I say smiling, "when do we meet?"

Chapter 4

I stare into the mirror. The girl is taking big breaths, her hair bouncing as she does. She's gripping the sink, and staring at the running water. She alternates between staring at the water, looking at herself, getting frightened at her reflection, and staring at the water again.

It's just Aiden. He's good, I thought. I take a look at myself. I moan and look down. Tiny butterflies invade my stomach. I'm so afraid of what may happen tonight. But Aiden is good. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me- I think.

No. I have to stop. I have to get better. For Nick. For Mom and Dad. Screw this.

I ungrip the sink, and make my way towards my closet. I have to do dis. You have to do it. Do you want to be weird for the rest of your life? You have to get over it at some point. Make it all stop. This is how you can start.

I look at my clothes, thinking of what kind of clothing I can wear. I'm eyeing the skirts and dresses, but my feet stay in place. I can't. I turn to my pants. These jeans are perfect, I think to myself unconvincingly. They look like my grandmother's pants, I admit. I eye a skirt. I grab it, with shaky but set hands. I put it on. My head is expecting the worst. I look at myself. I look great! Although my mind is surprised, I can't help but register the sudden wave of butterflies that now have moved up to my ribs. I put on a long sleeve top and shoes. Subtle and classy. As I'm nearly done with everything, the doorbell rings.

"Callie, Aiden is here," Mom yells.

"Coming!" I reply, grabbing my purse and filling it with anything I need. I make my way downstairs, every step making me more anxious. My mom looks at me and smiles.

"It's good to get out. You've been cooped up long enough," she says. "You look beautiful."

I smile back shyly and go to the front door.

"Hey! No funny business!" she yells one more time, and I hear laughing by the front door.

"You heard her," Aiden says to me, as soon he sees me. I laugh back, nervously. We make our way to his car. It's spacious inside, and it smells like it's new, with a tinge of cologne. He puts the radio on lowly, and I sit back a bit tense. He makes small talk, and it's not uncomfortable. Everything is nice and talkative, but the tenseness doesn't seem to leave. The back of my mind can help but wonder, what is he expecting from tonight?

While he talks, different scenarios play in my head, none of them good. I shake my head, and force myself into the present. I engage in the conversation, with little effort. Aiden makes it easy. I feel a bit guilty, because I should be like this with Nick. But then I smile, realizing that Aiden could be my cure to it.

"So, where are we going," I ask. He smiles.

"How about a movie?" He asks. Well, that takes out half of my scenarios. I nod to him.

"Wait, let me get some gas, I forgot to fill it up before I came," he says sheepishly.

"Distracted?" I say raising my eyebrows. He laughs and enters a gas station. He gets his wallet, gives me a smile, and goes.

I force the scenarios out, but I get uneasy. I look around. I can see men standing against cars, others by walls. Even though they're far away, I feel like they'll run to me. I unbuckle my seatbelt, and lock every single door in the car. I do it quickly, as if one is already running toward me.

Breathless, I look around. Please hurry, I pray. I Look around at the men; the butterflies have reached my throat now in a whirlwind. I can't seem to even breathe right. Then, Aiden comes out. Relieved, I untwist my body from looking behind the car, and sit back. The anxiety dies down, but my mind hasn't forgotten that he can still turn bad. Still, the familiar face relieves me more.

He raises his eyebrows once and smiles. I chuckle and smile.

He pays for my ticket, and our snacks, no matter how much I tried to pay for it. He insisted I'd pay for "next time", waving it off. The movie was a horror and thriller film, which made me a bit skeptical, but I waved it off. We played in the little arcade until it was about 5 minutes for the movie to start. We sat in the middle of the theatre. Perfect, I thought. It was a public space, so if anything were to happen, people would notice. I would be safe.

Throughout the movie, Aiden talked now and then. Sometimes to give his insights on some foreshadowing, and other times to correct historical mistakes. I didn't really pay attention to the movie though. I watched Aiden's every move from the corner of my eye.

Through the movie, he has been carefully moving his hand toward the popcorn on my lap. He's kept his hands on the sides of his seat. Every time there was a sudden boom or pop up, I couldn't help but scream with the rest of the viewers. After screaming, Aiden would laugh and shake his head.

Now, something changed. His hand would face up, as if expecting me to take it. Should I take it? I acted as if I hadn't seen it. I kept my eyes on the screen. I see from the corner of my eye as he stares at me, waiting to notice. After some time, he gives up, and watches the movie too. I feel a bit bad. It was just his hand, after all, nothing more. I let it go.

Then, a scene came up. It was a very suspenseful chase where the murderer almost caught the victim. It got my attention so much, that I kept whispering, "Run, dude, run." and I would jump a little every time he almost caught him. When the murder finally caught up to him, I was so out of it that I turned to Aiden and grabbed onto his arm.

"Ahhh, oh my god!" I whisper- screamed. We were shushed from behind. Aiden laughed quietly, surprised at my reaction. Realizing what position I was in, I almost took my hand out. Instead, I left it there, remembering my goal. Aiden seemed pleased. He smiled as he looked to the screen.

Again, my attention was taken up. How far am I supposed to take it? Do I feel comfortable doing any of this? I assess my feelings. I feel fine. Of course, although it is very low, my nervousness is still there. I'm anxious and the slightest bit uncomfortable on my stomach. But now, next to him, I don't feel like before. I feel better.

He turns to me again, explaining how the recent murder is completely incorrect because the amount of bloodshed was impossible for the number of seconds passed until the character died. Slowly throughout the next few minutes, I move my hand down from his arm to his hands. Near the end of the movie, the plot was resolving itself. The murderer was caught; plot twist: it was the ex-girlfriend. The main character and her lover survived. It was beginning to look like a happy ending.

My hand still hadn't left his hand. He squeezed my hand at this scene. I turn to face him. He was trying to look at me in the eye, but he kept glancing down. Even in the dim light, I could tell he was blushing. I knew what he was trying to do. At this realization, my butterflies frenzied out of control, and weirdly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I could feel it, even though my hair was down.

He moved in closer, slowly. He stopped and studied my face. I just looked into his eyes, still indecisive. He continued. The gap was closed. His kiss was sweet and slow. It wasn't forceful or too much. He moved one hand to hold my cheek, and the other rested on my thigh. My skirt was riding up by itself, so he was feeling my bare skin.

My mind raced to come up with my feeling. On one hand, my mind was screaming run. The other screamed stay for your goal. But a very small piece also screamed, he's not him. Unfortunately, the small piece was too small to be heard and followed. His hand become another. Instead of Aiden, I saw the man from that night. The unknown face that has been haunting me was here. His hands became unwanted and he was not who I wanted. Everything shifted in an instant.

The largest voice won. Run.

I pushed him back. My thigh was blazing hot from where his hand was resting, as was my cheek. I breathed quickly and covered my lips. I looked at him, expecting him to grab me forcefully this time. But he just stared at me, completely dumbfounded. The water started making its way to my eyes. I just sat there, not knowing how to explain myself. He breathed hard too, still blushing. The lights went on, the credits were over. People started getting out of their seats, completely oblivious to what happened.

"Did… did I do something?" Aiden asks quietly, unable to hide the hurt from his voice. I shake my head. I try to get the thoughts out, but I can't get them out anymore. All I want to do is get away from him. Away from everything. I don't want to feel confused anymore.

"Take me home.. please." I whisper, my voice cracking.

"Callie, I'm sorry," he says, reaching for my hand. I cringe and stand up awkwardly. He apologizes again and picks up our trash.

Throughout the car ride, I don't say a word. I blink multiple times to avoid having tears drop, but I can't stop from making them appear. I can see him almost having the courage to say something, but then he doesn't. Having the quiet, it let me think. I start to calm down. The frenzy in me dies down. The butterflies die down, only resting in the pit of my stomach. Slowly, I start regretting everything. I get angry at myself.

The ride back home is much longer than when we left. We're close by, though. Now, I'm the one trying to think of something to say. We turn to my street. Something. Anything. He parks in front of my house.

"Callie, I'm sorry. Can you talk to me please?" he pleads. I try to come up with an appropriate reply. I'm empty handed. I sigh and get out of the car.

"I'll see you Monday." I walk towards my front door, get in, and run upstairs, so that my mom won't ask questions.

I peek towards my closed curtains. Aiden is still there- I can see his car. Looking closely, I can see his face. He has his hands on the steering wheel, but his head is turned facing the passenger seat. He looks down to his lap and then towards the street in front of him. Then, he buries his head in his hands and looks up to the roof of his car. God, I feel terrible. I should go outside and apologize. Maybe he'll forgive me. Maybe that's all he wants. But what would I say?

Aiden turns toward my front door. After a few seconds, he starts the engine and leaves.

Chapter 5

I ruined it. I ruined it. I go to my bed and throw myself in it. I want to be normal. I want to be like before, but how can I do that when it always comes back? It's always going to be there. The memories will haunt me always. It feels like there's no use in trying.

I feel an ache forming in my chest. I feel terrible and alone. I start to cry, inevitably. Small tears run on the sides of my cheek. People will start to ask why I've changed and I won't be able to say anything. I can't tell anyone, so I have to do this alone. No one will understand.

My promise. I can't leave it. Even if I'm alone, I still have to trudge through. I still have to fulfill it. I have my mom and Nick and all of my friends. I won't be okay tomorrow but someday I can. I will work through it, with memories and all. Aiden didn't work, but something will. I have to find it.

I wipe my tears away, blinking quickly to rid the new ones coming. I stare at my ceiling until I fall asleep.

"Hey Nick." I greet. He's smiling as always, but his smile fades a little as he notices me.

"Are you good?" he asks. I shrug my shoulders. "What happened last night?" I got scared. How did he know?

"What do you mean?"

"Your date, remember?" he says, confused. Right. I forgot I told him.

"It was okay. I don't think there will be another though." I reply. The guilt sneaks back in. He turns on the radio. "Well, sucks for him." We drive to school.

In third period, I see Aiden. Because of the project, we now have to sit next to each other. But the atmosphere is clearly changed. We work together without talking. We exchange words only when we need to. I want to talk to him, but I didn't know what to say. He looks at me from time to time. I feel so bad. I feel so guilty.

The more the time passes, the more discouraged I feel to speak to him. The more I don't speak to him, the more terrible I feel. The solution is clear, but I can't bring myself to do it. I feel even worse. We work like this for about two weeks. It's become routine to ask with hand gestures rather than words. To slowly begin to no longer look at each other. To feel like I am so close to screaming.

I hate it. I hate how me not talking to him causes me to feel so terrible. I hate not being able to bring myself to do anything. I hate myself.

After the last bell rang, I made my way towards my locker, waiting for Nick as usual. I began to think about how far along I was in my biology project. We're supposed to be dissecting very soon. This train of thought led to Aiden.

"Callie!" someone yells. I look around, seeing Nick. He walks quickly towards me. When he's 2 feet away from me, he grabs me and takes me to the closest classroom. I turn to him, confused. He exhales.

"What. Is. Up. You're doing it again. Only this time, you look like someone's going to strike you at any given moment. What's going on?" he demands. He has his arms out, waiting for a response.

"Can you please lock the door?" I ask uneasily, eyeing the lock. He sighs and locks it with a swift move.

"You said you would tell me," he says whiningly, "so what is happening to you?"

I bite my lip, sighing and unable to look him in the eye. First Aiden, now him. How is he not tired by now? It's been months now. Several. Maybe that's it. Maybe he's tired of waiting for me- tired of me. He stares at me, his eyes widening waiting for a response. I inhale and shake my head. I got lost in thought again.

"Unbelievable," he laughs sarcastically, running his fingers through his hair.

"Nick, I'm sorry. But I just don't know what to do. I-I don't know. I don't know." I say, the last sentence a bit more boldly than intended.

"Why are you getting mad? I'm the one who gets no explanation! At least you are getting a reason," he yells, nostrils flared. His response made me madder. I don't even know why I got mad- I wasn't before. But now, it's taking over, and my mind has forgotten why.

"What do you want me to say, Nick? I. Don't. Know," I enunciate.I can feel my cheeks getting hot. My face is probably as red as a tomato. Nick laughs sarcastically again, shaking his head. For some reason, this annoys me even more. I'm getting so mad, I can start feeling myself tear up. God, I hate when this happens. I quickly wipe my face.

"Oh c'mon Callie, stop crying, that's not fair," he complains, annoyed. I give him a death stare- or the best one to my ability. He crosses his arms, waiting. I cross my arms too.

"You have to stop shutting me out." He says plainly. I keep my hands crossed and pressed tightly to me. He starts raising his voice. "I'm your best friend aren't I? You can't be going through anything alone, Callie. It can hurt you. You can trust me, you know that. I'm only trying to help." He looks at me, hopelessly. I keep my eyes down, unable to conjure a response.

"Callie, say something! Stop being so tense with me! Loosen up!" he finally yells.

Something inside me breaks. I stare at him, my arms falling limply to my sides. My mouth hangs slightly, and the chills run down my arms and spine. My legs feel wobbly, and I feel light. My stomach is raging with butterflies- the worst kind. And then I see it clearly before my eyes.

I see his calloused hands around my throat. I can smell his breath, full of alcohol and cheap cologne. I can feel the pain and hair pulling and stinging. I feel the cold air rushing between my legs and hear his grunts. I can remember myself squirming and screaming. But no one was around. Come on sweetheart, loosen up. Those words repeat themselves in my mind. The tears come fast now. They blur my vision. I back away from Nick, holding my hands out so he doesn't come close.

"Callie, w-what happened," he asks, confused by my sudden change of emotion. His mean features leave, as he forgets his facade. I stumble out of the room, and walk fast down the hall, my legs feeling weird. No one is in the hallway, so I don't have to hide. "Callie!" he yells, running toward me. He tries to grab my arm. I pull back fiercely.

"No!" I yell fiercely, breathing hard and shakily. He stares at me, dumbstruck. I walk out of the building and to the sidewalk. He doesn't follow me. I walk home.

Chapter 6

February

I've shut everyone out. I've given up. My promise is out of reach- impossible. I can never be normal. I can never be me again. I felt like I was being pulled down, drowning. I did not resurface.

March

Time goes slow, then fast- unevenly. It gets lost in thought, with fast lurches, or waited upon to pass, slowly and painfully. Still, time passes, as a part of me does too.

April

Overtime, I've grown to become accustomed to the girl I see in the mirror. If someone else were to see me, I would be cringe-worthy. But like me, many have grown accustomed to my gradual change. Still, they notice it, but don't say anything.

My mom has tried to talk to me about it. At one point, she suggested I go have a talk with the family doctor. That ignited a tantrum that caused her to rarely bring it up again. She would now and then try to talk to me about antidepressants. She insisted that I didn't need to offer an explanation- she just needed me to get better. I've still never taken one.

At school, I don't talk unless spoken to. I complete my assignments, not the lowest but not the highest. I don't try anymore. I let my days be dull and dragging.

I see Nick all the time. His face haunts me with guiltiness. I miss him. But after he said those words that day, all I see is that night.

The girl in the mirror had become excellent at being an enigma. Even I couldn't tell how I felt sometimes. I couldn't tell the difference between the numbness and the agony, the migraines between the memories. Her hair became dull and unkempt. Her skin was greyish, with bags under her eyes starting to sag. Worst of all, her eyes had become hollow. They did not light up anymore. This was the only thing that scared me. To see just how deep I was in.

I feel lost and alone. I don't want to be like this forever, but it doesn't seem like change is going to happen anytime soon. I try to make myself feel better. I try finding the familiar joy from the piano in the choir room. I look at old photos. I go to the park Nick and I used to hang out in. But they all leave me with a gaping hole in my heart; the bittersweet memories can't heal it.

I don't read anymore. I don't listen to the radio or watch television. I don't crave any food anymore. Everything seems bland or I can't seem to concentrate. Sleep has become an even bigger problem than before. I always have trouble falling asleep now, not on some nights like before. When I do sleep, they're always nightmares. When I wake up, I don't want to get out of bed. I feel like lying for eternity. But I pull it together enough to go to school.

And the thoughts. The inevitable thoughts that take up every minute of every day. I hate not being able to control my own thoughts. But they have become routine. I let them eat me alive. I've grown weak for giving into these feelings. I don't even have control over myself.

I thought about death from time to time. It seemed very simple, and would most likely ease this nothingness and pain I feel, but I couldn't. I owed everyone too much. They weren't to blame for my state. I tried not to question the thought often.

Nick has tried to talk to me a couple of times. But I don't speak to him because I can't even look him in the eye without wanting to break down. He's come to my house plenty of times. I tell my mom not to let him through.

Everything has become tedious.

Nick is here again. I can hear him downstairs, arguing with my mom to please let him go upstairs.

"I don't want to force her into anything, honey. Let her come to you," she pleads soothingly, sounding a bit muffled as I listen through my closed door. I bite my nail.

"It's been almost 3 months. She isn't coming anytime soon. I have to make the first move," he tries to explain calmly, but his voice is too rough.

"I can't. You know she won't open the door." she reminds him. I look down and look at my door. I lock it. It's quiet below. I hear Nick sigh. There's shuffling, an apology, a farewell, and then a closed door. After a few moments, I hear shuffling coming up stairs. Oh no, Mom's gonna lecture again. She knocks twice.

"Callie, open up," she demands quietly. I open the door, and she comes in. I sit on my swivel chair. I spin on it, awaiting the sermon on how I should start thinking about medications and appointments. It's quiet for a bit. She's fiddling with her fingers and exhales.

"Callie, why have you been avoiding Nick?" she says bluntly. I stop spinning. It took me by surprise. She never opened up this topic. I look down to my lap and start drumming on my thighs. I shrug. "What's happened to you?" she whispers.

"Mom, I thought you weren't going to force me into anything," I mumble.

"I've had enough! I didn't mean for you to shut down for 3 whole months! You don't do anything. Callie, honey, I don't know what to do anymore! I'm your mother, you should be able to trust me!" she says loudly, almost screaming. She's very agitated. "You need to at the very least talk to that young, sweet boy who misses you." she says expressively. I sit still, not knowing what to do next. She sighs and lowers her voice. "Listen, sweetie. I don't know what you're going through, but you don't have to do it alone. Whatever it is- it doesn't matter. But you can't bottle up whatever you have going on there. If you do, there will come a time where you will explode. And I know bottling it up makes you feel terrible, but when you explode, you're going to do a lot of stuff you'll regret later.

"Give Nick a chance. Give him an explanation. He's your best friend. Whatever happened, you're not going to let it come in the way of a friendship since elementary school, will you?" She looks at me, waiting for a response. After a few silent moments, she gets up. "Well, I said what I had to say. Even if you won't tell me, you're still my little girl, and I want you to be happy. So, please follow my advice." With that last note, she leaves. I get up and lock the door.

I turn my back on it, and slide down. I take deep breaths; it feels like I'm wheezing. I get the hair out of my eyes, and sit there, staring around my room. The ache in my chest gets tighter and tighter as my mom's words go back and forth in my mind. I start doing what I'm best at: thinking. And thinking. Alas, I've made my decision.

After the last bell, I see Nick at his locker as he shuffles all his things into it. I stumble my over, trying to shake off the familiar haze, my heart beating strangely as always. I should probably be worried about that, but I put it off to the side of my mind as I reach him. "Nick…" I cringe at my hoarse whisper. He turns to me surprised, expectant, and the slightest bit hopeful all at once. I clear my throat and try again.

"Nick, I… Can we talk?"

He scrutinizes me deeply, eyeing me up and down. He's probably assessing just how much of a mess I've become. Please just say yes, I think nervously.

"Are you not going to run from me crying and screaming?"

I suppress rolling my eyes. "I promise I won't do that."

He turns his whole body to me this time. "Will you not shut me out and finally tell me what the hell is going on with you?"

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod for fear that if I talk it'll just pour out. I can't let that happen unless we're in a safe and private place. Nick seems satisfied with my response, so I grab his hand and drag him to the choir room, which I know they haven't locked yet. It feels so great to hold my best friend's hand again that I almost cry right then and there. On the way there, he doesn't talk, but he doesn't take his hand away either.

I get there, making sure the room is locked. I check the window, looking down on the campus. There are few students, but none close to the room. I turn to Nick, drying my clammy hands on my sweats.

"Sit," I manage to choke out. His wary expression softens immediately, realizing what I'm finally about to do: open up. I open my mouth, but I don't know how to start. I open and close my mouth multiple times, my mind indecisive on how to start. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, my chest tightening and loosening. I open my eyes, and shakily begin, with stumbling and stuttering words.

Chapter 7

I keep the raw details to myself and summarize it for him. I couldn't utter the word, even now, coming clean to him. It was still painful to do so. I stare at anything but his eyes as I explain. His knee jumps up and down as I tell my story, but immediately stops when he realizes. As I get to the worst parts, I can see his hands ball up to fists, then grasping his jeans. When I get the courage to look at his face, I see his jaw is clenched. He passes his fingers through his hair often and groans from time to time.

I fumble with my words. I stutter and stumble and am a complete mess. My heart flutters rapidly and uncontrollably. I can feel the pumping in my ears. Saying everything out loud made the whole thing even realer. Towards the end of my tale, my eyes start to water. I stare down, and the tears blotch my jeans.

"I'm sorry I shut you out. I shouldn't have done that. At least not to you. I was scared and I didn't know what to do, and I thought keeping to myself would help, but it didn't. I am so sorry I made you feel helpless. Can you please forgive me?" I hoarsely whisper. He doesn't respond. I look up. His eyes are closed hard, and his jaw hasn't stopped clenching.

"Who did this to you?" His voice is so low I can barely hear him.

"I don't know. I didn't know him," I say, shrugging and shaking my head. A few moments pass, and he still doesn't say anything. Mixed emotions conquer his face. I look down, starting to wonder when he'd start screaming at me. Suddenly, he engulfs me in an embrace.

"Please don't ever shut me out again," he whispers. I hug him back as hard as I can, afraid to let my best friend go.

"I promise," I vow. We stay like this for a while, unwilling to let each other go.

Slowly, my days started getting better. I started looking forward to days, especially with Nick. I am no longer completely numb. I started listening to music again. I refound the enjoyment in watching the figures move on the silver screen. I went back to indulging on cravings and engaged in conversations with Nick. My other friends did not force me to talk, but I shyly sit with them during breakfast and lunch. The changes were small, but noticeable.

One person who definitely noticed was Aiden. A week after, I entered the room, and he did a double take. I was laughing, for Nick had been making a joke. When I saw him, I gave a tentative smile. It was evident he did not know what to do. We didn't talk that day though. But we are slowly making progress. We're starting to greet each other and ask about the project. He doesn't bring up the day of our date, which I fully appreciate. I don't know what I'd say. It's getting better though.

Nick gives in as much of his effort as he can to make me as comfortable as possible. It is only when we forgets to do this when I am actually comfortable, but I appreciate his attempt deeply. He's convinced me to join a few clubs to 'get me out there'; because I was scared, he's agreed to join them with me. We attend school events and get involved more. He constantly takes me out to get fresh air and has taken the new habit of asking "How are you?" on a daily basis. He takes me to our usual hangouts and tries to get me to hang with our friends, not forcing me though. He doesn't bring up Aiden, which again, I appreciate deeply. I don't know why I kept this from him. Having him know and help me is truly relieving me.

But, although he really wants to help, he can't cure every part of me. I still have trouble falling asleep during the nights. I awake drenched in sweat and with a pounding heart. It's rare that a day will pass in which my chest will not hurt and the fatigue won't overwhelm me. My skin was still tainted grey, and I still close my doors relentlessly. I thought they'd go away, but they persist.

And still, my thoughts invade me at inconvenient times. They sometimes come in the middle of class, before sleep, or even in the middle of talking to Nick. I begin to wonder, is this how I'll get better? I've noticed the big changed, but there are little things of me that I fear will not be the same. But maybe being the same is impossible. Maybe this is the best way to be as me as possible.

The radio is playing lowly in the background as Nick hums along with it. My hair is flying wildly because the windows are all down. It's a warm day, and the wind feels nice on my skin. I turn to Nick- he's glowing and smiling. He stares straight ahead, one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand hanging outside the window, caressing the wind with his fingertips. Everything is still, calm, and okay. I feel at peace. I let the feeling drag, embracing it to evade the dark later that night.

Nick breaks the sweet silence with a clear of his throat. I turn to him, almost dazed from the calmness. His smile turns sad; I lean my head, confused.

"How have you been? Truly?" he asks. I think about it.

"Much much much better," I respond as honestly as I can, looking him in the eye. He nods slowly.

"What comes next?" he asks, hesitantly.

"What do you mean?"

He takes a few moments, pursing his lips. He enters a freeway. The wind is too strong, so he rolls up the windows.

"I mean, do you ever plan on getting professional help? Or… telling your mom?" he says.

"I don't need professional help. I'm getting much better without it," I state blankly.

"You're seriously telling me you don't have any leftover problems? You don't have any nightmares or irrational anxiety?" he asks, testing. I purse my lips. My chest starts hurting, almost as if on cue. "I can see you. I know you're trying, but I can see it. And I think you need more help than what I can give. And what about your mom? Don't you think she ought to know?"

I grip my hair with my hands. "Nick, how can I? How can I tell her that her own daughter-" I demand, wincing.

"You can't even say the word, can you?" he asks quietly. The radio is off- I didn't even notice when he turned it off. I stare at my suddenly interesting nails. "Callie, you were raped," he says flatly. I sigh, frustrated and cringing. I rub my my heart attempting to ease the minor ache.

"You don't have to say it! I know it! I just don't want to say it."

"You don't want to, or you can't?"

I change the subject. "I can't tell mom."

"And why not?"

"It would break her. And there's no use, it already happened. It's not like she can fix it."

"You don't think she deserves an explanation like me? I felt so confused and useless until you told me, Callie. Don't let her feel that way too. And I know she feels that way."

"She'll feel guilty. She'll feel like she should've protected me or something. I know her. She'll kill herself over this."

"And you're not killing yourself over this?" he yells.

"It was my fault too!" Now my heart has become an uncomfortable throb. My neck and shoulder begin to ache. I take a deep breathe. It hurts more.

"How could it have possibly been your fault?"

I put my hands in the air, getting angry now. "I stopped screaming. I stopped fighting! Had I not done that, then maybe I could've been heard. If I had pushed harder, I could've gotten away."

"Callie, how can you think like that?"

I groan. "You don't understand," I complain, adjusting my position to see which makes me hurt less. I get lightheaded for an instant.

"Exactly. I don't truly understand what you're going through. So talk to someone who does! They can really help. They know how to deal with this. I-I don't really know what to do at times."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm such a burden on you."

His expression softens a bit. "Callie, don't you ever say that. That's not what I meant." I stay quiet, crossing my arms. "You have to talk to someone. Please. I don't know how to help. Maybe these things you go through aren't normal. Maybe it's like.. symptom residue. You need to get help for that. Have you even been to a doctor since that day?"

I stay quiet, ashamed now. I can feel my heart fluttering. The throb in my heart has become tiny, sharp japs. My whole upper body started getting tight and uncomfortable.

"Unbelievable," he sighs. "Callie, we need to do something. We can't stay like this. You need actual peace. We have to-"

And suddenly, 3 things happen at the same time, all in about 2 seconds.

One: My heart was beating unbelievably fast. The pain spread to my body and made it so tight I could barely move. The sudden pain made me gasp, which made my ribs pulse with pain. It felt like someone was squeezing my heart and stabbing tiny needles through it simultaneously.

Two: Nick stepped on the break. We were going 60 an hour and he stopped the car. My whole body jerked forward, adding on to my pain even more than I thought was possible. The seatbelt, I felt, barely kept me as my arms flailed in front of me and crashed against the dashboard. My knees hit hard against it too. I felt warm and weightless, and weirdly, it made my mind sharp. And so, then I noticed.

Three: A large van was heading straight towards us. He was on the in the wrong lane, going backwards. It wasn't slow motion like on the movies. Everything was quickly happening, but I registered it as quickly as it happened. My hair was all over my face, and my whole body screamed with ache. I grasped onto whatever my hand could hold. I felt myself gasping. Then he hit us, head on.

Chapter 8

She's here. She's here and they must've told her everything, I think frantically. My mind feels the same like the morning after it happened. I lie alone for a few moments imagining all the terrible ways she can react. Nick. I need to find Nick. He'll make me feel better. I can't feel like this again. I sit up, and immediately go back down. My whole body screams, reproaching, at the sudden movement. Everything hurts still. I lie, letting the heart monitor beat crazily, no longer finding a reason to calm down.

I wake up without knowing the time or how long I slept. It could have been merely 10 minutes or hours. My mouth is dry, and I feel dazed.

"Hi," says a woman softly, "my name is Dr. Hunt." She's wearing a lab coat and writes something on a clipboard. I try to get up again. "No, no, no, don't do that. You'll hurt yourself. Here have some water," she offers. I take it, drinking a big gulp. A woman enters the room. "Page Cardio," the Dr. Hunt commands. The lady nods, and leaves.

Moments later, another woman enters the room, greeting me as softly as Dr. Hunt. "Hi sweetie, my name is Dr. Pierce. Do you mind..?" she asks, gesturing to my chest with a stethoscope. I nod, and she does too. She starts to check me. She flashes a tiny flashlight on my eyes, murmuring things to Dr. Hunt that only they understand. They both check me at the same time. They tickle my feet and ask if I can feel it. They ask me a series of questions, and while they do this, I wonder, what do they already know?

After a few moments, I ask, "Where's Nick?"

"He is being taken care of in the room next door," Dr. Hunt assures. I nod. I turn to the chair next to me- my mother's hand bag is still there. Right on cue, my mom enters. She's pale and evidently tired. As soon as she sees me, she runs towards me, smiling. I smile back a bit. They must've not said anything then. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I squeeze back, savoring the last few moments it'll be like this.

"Alright honey, based on our charts, it seems like you had a heart attack. When you came to us, you went into cardiac arrest, but we nearly saved you. You were lucky," Dr. Pierce says.

My mom looked astounded. "A what? She what?" she gasps out.

Dr. Hunt nods and explains, "I know it seems completely unexpected, but it is very possible for girls the age of Callie. Heart attacks can happen for a number of reasons."

"Not only that," Dr. Pierce says, "but we found that she has a heart problem. It wasn't a one time thing. Her problem has interfered with her brain function and has been causing her some problems. Her heart has become weak. So, at the accident, the surprise of it caused her to fall over the edge she was barely hanging on. A healthy heart would have supported it, but hers didn't.

Her skin is greyish, meaning the heart is working very hard to pump blood throughout her whole body. This also means, that she may have had serious fatigue, concentration problems, and perhaps even some breathing difficulties. Based on the severity of it all, I'd say it's been going on for about half a year." The matching details released butterflies in my stomach.

"Honey, why didn't you say anything?" mom asks, reproachful.

"I didn't know."

The doctors start asking my mother questions about our family's history of heart diseases and diabetes. It's only a matter of time before the spotlight is turned to me- before they expect an explanation out of me. My mind takes me to the would have happened if I died back there? Or worse, if Nick had? My last words would have been me being salty to him. I chuckle a bit at this, and I look up to see everyone staring at me.

"What?" I ask.

"We asked you a question," my mom said.

"What?" I ask again.

"Have you been feeling stressed lately?" Dr. Pierce asks warmly.

I shrug. "A little bit." The doctors nod.

"Can we talk outside for a bit? We need to discuss treatment plans. Unfortunately, this will not be easy to heal," says Dr. Hunt. My mom nods. She takes my hand one last time, and leaves.

I sigh, and rub my forehead.

"What's up, dearie? Something on your mind?" Dr. Hunt says.

"When can I see Nick?" I ask, not really stating what's on my mind.

"Well, he didn't hurt so bad, he can be up and walking soon today," she informs me. I nod and lie back more comfortable.

I almost died. I almost died and my mom would have been left without a goodbye. Without an explanation… I feel weird as a realize that the bed I am lying on could've been my death bed. I realize how close to death I was. God, everything I feared seemed stupid. Nick was right.

"Nick!" I exclaim happily as he enters the room. He's on a wheelchair and looks as bad as me, but he smiles. He rolls up next to me, and he takes my hand.

"Hi Callie," he says softly. I sigh, relieved.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Some idiot drove off his lane and went into ours. I tried to stop, but he still hit us. I'm so sorry. I should've been paying more attention," he starts babbling. I shush him.

"It's not your fault, okay?" I assure, smiling. He sighs and nods. "What'll happen with the police?"

"Our moms are figuring that mess out, don't worry about that," he explains. I nod and sigh deeply. We stay holding hands for some time.

"Why are you still here?" he asks. I turn to him, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I kinda look worse than you, but you're still here."

"They didn't tell you?" I ask surprised, biting my lip.

"'Family only'," Nick says annoyed. I look down.

"I had a heart attack," I say quietly. His hand squeezes mine tighter.

"You what?" he whispers, dumbfounded, "aren't you supposed to be like 50 to get those?"

"They.." I trail and sigh, "they can happen from immense stress."

"I told you so," says Nick, at normal voice level.

"Dude." I say, rolling my eyes.

"Okay but wait, this is serious. This means I was right. Residue, remember? So, what comes next Callie?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. I look at the heart monitor, and his eyes follow mine.

"I went into cardiac arrest, Nick. I nearly died. I almost died and my mom would have left without an explanation," I explain quietly, almost crying. I hold them back. "You were right."

"I know," he whispers jokingly. I give him and look and he nods. "So what do we do?"

"I don't know how." He gives me a small smile.

"When?"

"Soon," I promise.

"How do I start?" I ask frantically.

"Callie..," Nick says. I groan.

"I know, I know," I say annoyed.

"Are you sure you want you do this? I don't know if you're supposed to be nervous," he says. I nod.

"I'm sure."

My mom enters the room, and smiles at us.

"Mom," I choke out. She sits on the opposite side of Nick, next to me. She takes my other hand. The blood is back on my ears, drowning out my own voice. The heart monitor picks up pace.

"Callie? Callie, are you okay?" Mom starts panicking. I grasp her hand before she stands. I look her in the eye, and she stops. She sits back down. I look at Nick one last time. He nods. I begin.

At first, her eyes become stone. I hadn't even gotten there, but it's as if she knows it'll happen. Her whole body becomes stone, except her hands. Her hands continue to be soft, and tighten around mine. She's breathing quickly too. I don't stop.

When I get there, she lets out a gust of air, and hunches over. Her head is on my hand, and moments later I can feel moisture all over them. Her body shakes, and she's crying. She wipes her red, puffy eyes. I'm unsure if I should continue. I caress her hand, and she beckons me to continue. I finish. In the end, she runs her hands through her hair, and hunches over again. I start apologizing, sorry over all the things I could've done. She stops me immediately.

"No. This is not your fault," she says, drying her eyes. She hiccups, and it breaks me. I look down. "This mentality you have- it's unhealthy. You need a therapist." I grimace at the idea, but I would do anything to have her not mad at me. She's lost in thought. I hesitantly squeeze her hand. She squeezes back, and I'm okay. I'm okay.

Chapter 9

For the next several months, I went to therapy- physical and emotional. With my therapist, I hadn't realized how open I could be. I was able to give every raw detail, every last thought, without filter. And she helped me. I slowly changed my views on everyone. I begin to lift the ghostly weight that rested on my shoulders. I strated to have little nightmares and little insomnia. Slowly, I started healing physically too. My pains slowly faded away and I started to gain focus. Little major things about me started to revert. I was becoming me again.

I began to enjoy days more whole-heartedly, and I began to become closer with my mom. We talked all the time, but she didn't push it. I came to her often- I still do Nick visited me frequently, and when I left the hospital, it was almost as if he moved in with me. He's was and is there, every step of the way. None of my other friends at my school knew what happened to me, but they had already begun to embrace my new change.

Every once in awhile, I get a nightmare. Every once in awhile, I feel like fainting when I see a man with calloused hands. Sometimes, my past gets me, and I feel like curling in a ball. But my mom and Nick are always there. They make it all better. Slowly, until a few years later, it was not there anymore.

A few months after the accident, I came clean to Aiden. I apologized and he completely understood. We didn't date immediately; he did not want to pressure me. But we did about a year later. It wasn't easy overcoming the feelings and hardships, but we're okay.

The weekly visits to my therapist taught me the most valuable lesson I couldn't have possibly learned by myself. What happened that night was not my fault. I spent months blaming myself for what I could have done, but that just wasn't right. I couldn't have controlled what he did that night. I went through hell, but I learned how to get better. My main responsibility now is investing in my present and future happiness, and abdicating myself from the actions of others. I can open up now. I loosened up, for the better. I leave the door unlocked.

Callie Fall had a normal life as a high school junior. She had friends and family, and best of her her best friend Nick. Everything was normal, and then she wasn't. Then, she was raped. No sugar coating. That's what happened. Now, Callie is trying to go back to normal, she even tries to date, but she soon realizes that sexual assault is not something a person can easily get over. This is a short story of a brave young woman overcoming something that is not an easy topic, yet affects the lives of millions of women.