My boyfriend raped me.

Eli couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

He'd known that something horrible had happened to Clare. He knew that someone had hurt her; he knew that there was a terribly reason why she was so distant, so broken.

He should have at least suspected that.

But he couldn't.

He just couldn't.

She was crying, her face pressed against his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt, and he felt like a statue, like he was made completely of stone and concrete.

My boyfriend raped me.

Her words were rebounding around in his head, shattering little pieces of him.

"W-what?" he managed to choke out. Come again?

"My boyfriend," she repeated, sobbing. Her voice was muffled, and he tightened his arms around her protectively, careful not to hurt her. "M-mark Fitzgerald. He would get drunk, and then h-he'd hit me, and…" She didn't seem to be able to speak the words again, and to be honest, Eli didn't think that he could hear them again without falling into pieces.

But he had to be strong. He had to keep himself together, for her.

"How long?" he demanded.

She didn't answer at first, and then she whispered, "We were only dating f-for a few m-months…"

Eli rubbed her back slowly, trying to comprehend her words. Mark Fitzgerald. The Fitz who had written her that letter. That was the reason why, before now, she'd always done her best to avoid any kind of physical contact. It explained everything.

And he was hoping, praying to God or Goddess or whatever the hell might be up there, that she was wrong. That he'd heard her wrong. That that had never happened to her, that she'd never had to go through that. There had to be something else, some other explanation, because that couldn't happen. Not to Clare.

"D-did you tell anyone?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady. He had to be strong for her.

"Darcy… Darcy knows that he h-hit me, but not that he… she doesn't know everything." Clare pulled away a little, leaning back to rest her chin on his shoulder. Her voice was soft, fragile, whispering in his ear in a shattered tone. "But I… I told my dad, and…" She was starting to fall apart again, and he could feel her shaking against him.

"It's okay, Clare. It's okay." He wished that it was. He wished that he could take away everything bad that had ever happened to her, that he could go back in time and make everything okay for her, even if it meant that they'd never met. He wished that he could give her the perfect life she deserved.

"I was staying there for a while in the s-summer, and… and I told him what happened. H-he was drunk, just like M-mark always was, and… he didn't care." She was crying again, her voice so choked he could barely understand her. "I… I told him that Mark… that he raped me and he didn't care. And the next morning, he d-didn't even remember that I… that his daughter had been…"

"Oh my God," Eli whispered. "Oh my God, Clare…"

"Mark said that… that it was my fault. That he's the only p-person who could ever care about me, that he's the only person who could ever love me… It's my fault."

"Clare." Eli pulled away, staring directly into her eyes. She glanced away, reaching up to wipe away the tears with shaking fingers. "Clare, look at me. It's not your fault. It's… oh, God, Clare, none of this is your fault. And if… if that bastard had really loved you, he wouldn't have done that to you. He lied to you. And I… I care about you, Clare. I care about you so much. And none of this is your fault." She looked almost hopeful, like she wanted to believe him, but she couldn't. Like something inside of her wouldn't let her trust his words.

If it was possible for his heart to break any more, it would crumble into dust.

Maybe he more than cared about her.

Maybe he loved her.

But no, that was impossible. Not… not after Julia. He didn't deserve to love anyone. He couldn't love anyone, not even someone like Clare.

"I care about you," he repeated. "And I'm so, so sorry that you had to go through that. I… I'd take it away, if I could. You're an amazing, incredible, kind, smart, funny, beautiful girl and you didn't deserve any of what happened to you." He brushed away her tears with his fingertips and whispered, "Clare, you have to believe me. You have to trust me."

She stared at him, like she hadn't heard his words. And then she took a deep breath and whispered, "I trust you."

000

Eli's arms were still wrapped around her; he'd barely let go of her for a second since the abandoned church, like he was afraid that she would just completely fall apart the instant he stepped away. Clare would have made him let her go, but she felt the same way, like he was the only thing holding her together.

Amazing, incredible, kind, smart, funny, beautiful.

Beautiful.

Eli thought that she was beautiful.

Not useless. Not a dumb shit. Not a stupid little bitch or a fucked-up whore.

He thought that she was beautiful.

And not just beautiful. He thought that she was… amazing, incredible, kind, smart, funny, beautiful.

He cared about her.

Mark had told her, over and over, that she was damaged, that she was his property and no one else's. He'd made her believe that she was nothing, that he was the only person who could ever, in a million years, care about her. She was his, and she would never be anything more or anything better than that.

And with just a few simple words, Eli had changed her mind. He'd changed her outlook on everything, her view of herself. He thought that she was beautiful.

She trusted him.

She knew that she shouldn't. She knew that she shouldn't trust anyone.

But she trusted Eli.

"You need to tell someone," he murmured.

"I can't."

"You told me."

But it's not the same. I don't trust anyone else the way I trust you. Not even Darcy. She's my sister, and she left me. She left me for three years… and she doesn't care anyways. No one would ever care. No one but Eli. He's the only one.

"I can't," she repeated.

"You have to. You have to tell someone else."

Clare shook her head, feeling the tears welling up again. Why was he doing that to her? Why was he trying to force her into doing this? He was supposed to be her rock, her safe place, and now he was turning on her like everyone else. "Eli, you don't understand. I… I can't tell anyone else. You're the only one who cares."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. My dad didn't care. You're the only one who cares," she repeated.

"So your dad's an ass- no offense. Clare, your mother cares about you. So does your sister. So does Adam and… and Dr. Alger and everyone in our group therapy. And you had friends at your old school, right? They care about you. Your dad's a drunk idiot, and he doesn't deserve to have a daughter like you." His fingers stroked the side of her face, and he added in a whisper, "I don't deserve a friend like you."

Clare didn't know why she did it. She didn't know what was going through her mind or, to sound silly and romantic, her heart.

For whatever reason, she leaned towards him and pressed her lips against his.

000

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I hope you liked it!

So… Eli might have some feelings for Clare, and Clare might have some feelings for Eli. Or Eli might still be grieving over Julia and Clare might still be grieving over who she might have been…

I really have no plans to end this story anytime soon, so I hope you guys like it.

Review please! I do not own Degrassi.