I'm cruising downtown in my fancy new red coverable. Nate is playing with the radio. The hood is down and the wind takes my hair. I laugh and adjust the big black sunglasses on my face. Nate laughs with me and flings his arms up as we leave the city limits. All that lays ahead for us are long dirt country roads and the endless horizon of cloudless blue.

Like I said, I'm a compulsive liar. My mind does that- it fades away when something drastic happens. I make up a new storyline, one more fitting, more optimistic. I wasn't ready when she told me and even now, looking back I'm still not ready to hold this knowledge.

…..

We're sitting on the couch. Miley's head is in my lap. I'm rubbing her back as she quietly sobs. I'm not good at this; it's usually the other way around. I'm supposed to be broken and crying. I'm no good at making others feel better. I'm not even warm- I'm as cozy as bared wire.

But here she is a beautiful angle whimpering and repeating words that I wish I didn't know. Her sentences are muffled and weak, I can't take this. "Miley?" I say testing out my soothing voice. "Miley look at me."

I pull her up gently and for once she lets me hold her close, but then she's back, scooting away from me. "Talk to me." I beg her.

Miley wipes her sad eyes and puts her head in her hands. "I can't… I can't go through it again. I'm sorry."

I squeeze the bridge of my nose, frustrated, and let out a shaky sigh. "This, this Allen he hurt you? Miley just give me something."

She sits up straighter and sniffs loudly, rubbing her nose on her long sleeved sweater. Her face is blotchy and red. I see a tear run along the end of her nose and fall. Seeing her like this… it's just unreal.

"He… he r-ra…"

Oh god, don't say it please don't say it!

She shuts her mouth and claps her hands together so tightly I'm scared she'll shatter them. I notice the bags under her eyes, now that her make-up has run completely off her face I see the lines, the effects that long sleepless nights leave.

"Do you want to write it down?"

She nods.

I pull out my notepad and flip to an empty page. With trembling hands she jots it all down. I don't know what's worse hearing her say it or have it written down. She finishes and closes her eyes.

I was raped. At a party last year. He's name is Allen.

I shut my eyes. Jesus- having it written is worse, much worse. When I open them Miley is staring at me. She dose not back down as I hold the gaze.

"Do you… you want to talk?" It's a stupid question, you'd think after having a tragedy like I did I would be better with situations like this, but I'm not. I stumble and sometimes make it worse.

She shrugs. "It's h-hard."

"Let's take it step by step then. It was at a party?"

Miley looks out the window. I don't think she's talking to me anymore, she's off, and her eyes glaze over.

"It was after a ballet recital." Pause. "Rachael's older brother was having a party. We snuck in… I was so stupid… that dress was too tight, too revealing, but I wanted it. I wanted the attention to feel…" She shakes her head and a bitter laugh escapes her lips, "sexy." She turns to me and more tears pour from her eyes.

"Lily." Her voice is raw and tried. "I'm not a good person."

"Yes you are it's not your fault! He is the monster!" My voice hitches up in my throat and comes out high and scratchy.

"But I went with him! … It's funny; he seemed so normal, so nice. A respectable college student majoring in pre-law." Miley's body shivers. "He… he wanted to go somewhere quiet…. It was so dark and I-" She chokes back a quiet sob with her hand. "He pushed me down." She sucks in a breath. "The bed was so cold."

I try to imagine it. The icy bed, the dark room, and rough hands all over her body. How frightening. To have someone touch you that way. To not know. I get a good look at Miley. I stare intently; I want to take it all away.

I wonder what she was like before.

I wonder what her laugh sounded like before someone stole her joy, innocence, and childhood.

Did Miley's eyes sparkle? I think they did. I think those blue eyes shone with pride under the stage's bright lights. I try and picture her- a happy little ballerina prancing on the wooden stage. No worry or care.

"Was it… was it your first time?"

She nods. "It was… so scary. I called out, cried but no one could hear the music was too loud."

"What about your friends?"

"They don't know. I couldn't tell them. It was so hard to breathe. For that year I just… I felt like I was under water someone was holding me under." She answers in a monotone voice.

Rape.

She was raped.

It's so hard to get through my head. I can't wrap my arms around the idea. She looks like an empty shell. A chewed up version of what she used to be. It is here and now that I make a silent vow to bring the light back into her perfect eyes. I want to hear that old laugh- is that selfish?

"I still don't know why you blame yourself. Miley, you did nothing wrong." I put my hand out in the middle of the couch, just in case she wants comfort, she doesn't.

"You didn't know me then."

"Fine!" I sigh. "Tell me who you were?"

"… A bitch."

I can't see it. Miley a bitch? No, not my sweet, shy Miley. (When did she become mine?)

"So you say you deserve all this pain? You deserve what Allen did to you, just because you were a little Prima Dona? Because you don't. I could care less how mean you thought you were no one should have to deal with this."

Miley frowns. "You don't know everything. You don't know what…"

"Don't leave me like this, Miley, is there more?" It scares me to even think about, what more could she have possibly endured?

"Three weeks… three weeks later I…found out I was pregnant."

Shit.

Shit.

This is too much, just too much! I swallow hard. "Miley, you have a baby?"

She's trembling violently now, "No." She whispers, "I don't."

…

Author's Note: Leave your thoughts…