Riku; Drench Yourself in Words Unspoken

I had to relive it yet again. Two weeks of thinking about it nonstop, of remembering it, of playing it over and over again in my head against my will. It seemed like so much longer than that, though. Two weeks ago, and yet it felt like months or years… It was hard, having to tell them everything, having to recount every little detail from then up until now. I couldn't help but think, maybe, I was blowing this out of proportion. Maybe it really wasn't as bad as it felt; maybe it would have been better if I hadn't opened my mouth at all. That's how unnerving their grilling was. But I answered every question about that day anyway.

What had I been wearing? What had she been wearing?

What time? What place? Why had I been in her apartment in the first place? For how long? Had anyone else been there?

Who was Paine Le'breau and what was my relationship to her? What had she heard that day? Had she even heard anything? Did I have her contact information? Could she testify for or against me, depending on what she knew?

What about Larxene? Had she been acting different than usual? Was she intoxicated or under any sort of influence? Was she in control of her actions or unaware of what she'd been doing?

What had she been doing? Did she hit me? Did she pin me down? Did she threaten me? What, exactly, had she said that day? Where had she touched me? How? Did she have any distinct markings or tattoos that stuck out to me? Piercings? Where?

Had I washed away the evidence since then? Did I still have the underwear I'd worn that day? The pants? The shirt? Had I washed or thrown away any of them? Had I gone back to her apartment any time after that? Had she been harassing me?

Was that it? Was there any detail I was missing? Anything at all? Big, small, significant or otherwise. Had I told them the whole story? Why had I waited so long to say anything? Who else had I told? What was their contact information?

So many probing, personal questions at once in a long amount of time. It was like someone had set me up on a pedestal in a crowd of scrutinizing spectators, like I was on display for the entire world to see. Like I had no choice but to speak or else they would lock me away. Or call me a liar…

I think I was at that hospital speaking with the police for hours, just spewing answers in that tiny room. They had the blinds drawn closed and the lights on too bright, and even though I was just there for a few stitches and head scans I felt like I was going to die. My head continued to ring and buzz when Officer Awning and her partner stepped out to let some detective start questioning me. Apparently he'd been investigating my case since Sora's report, but today was the first time we got to speak to each other. Then some roughly shaven blonde man in a suit stepped in and started asking me the exact same questions. Then more.

How old was I? Who and was my legal parent or guardian? Would I be able and willing to go to court as needed?

Would I be able to face Larxene in court?

Much to his surprise—and my own—I had given an immediate yes in response. Then he shook my hand with this pleased smile, told me his name, and said we'd get to know each other very well very soon. Ansem Wise. Only later would I find out that he would be my prosecuting attorney.

By the time he had left, Aerith had gotten over her initial shock and seemed much more together. Much more like her usual self. I could tell finding out about all of this was just eating away at her, but she hadn't said much since we'd gotten to the hospital. Just sat aside and listened to what was being said. At this point she had heard my story so many times that she was just as numb from it as I was.

In total, including that night with Sora, I had told this story four times. Four times. Each time there had been a little part of me that wanted to crawl away into a hole somewhere and just stay there. Again and again I kept thinking about the slight chunk of regret that kept whispering to my heart, "You're making a mistake, idiot. Opening your mouth gets you nowhere." It seemed easier to just pretend it was all a lie, to tell them I had made a mistake and that I was to blame. It seemed easier to try and forget.

Because when it came right down to it, that woman had money. She had money and plenty of people who would probably back her up if I decided to pursue this. I knew she did. She'd find a way to get off unharmed and then she'd take it out on me, somehow.

You're paying for this, brat…

"Riku."

I looked up from my spot on the hospital bed, took in the look on Officer Awning's face. She stepped back into the room alone, closing the door behind her and glancing from Aerith to me. "You're all stitched up?"

I ran a finger over the now fixed up cut above my eye with a slight sigh. "Yeah."

"Then you can head on home, now."

"You're definitely not arresting me?"

She frowned, exchanging a look with the mentally exhausted Aerith who was collecting our things as we spoke. "Why do you keep asking me that? You did nothing wrong."

Now I knew that was a lie. Not that I regretted anything. No. If sharing the same building with Larxene was the result of me doing something I didn't remember, then I figured it was well worth it. From what I'd heard, she'd be stuck here for a while with a nice little concussion and a number of broken bones to keep her company. But no matter how you diced it, I had attacked her and I was at fault…

"It was self defense, Riku," Officer Awning explained as if reading my mind. Her eyes were soft. "We have two witnesses that say she put her hands on you first and provoked you."

I blinked. "What witnesses?"

"Me," Aerith said quietly, approaching the side of the bed and rubbing small circles on my back. She knit her brows together in a worried way, causing me to stare at her curiously. "I heard her yelling at you from the top of the stairs, so I came out to see…"

"And then there's the man who called 911 in the first place," Officer Awning finished. "Mr. Trivet."

"Who?"

"Her fiancé, hun."

Marluxia? He had seen what happened? Must have… Maybe he had driven up just as the model had grabbed me. Or maybe he had been over at her apartment and came out to see what the noise was about, just as Aerith had.

But why would he tell the truth about that, if he really loved his fiancé? Why wouldn't he lie, or at least make her out to be the more innocent one in this situation? I'd only met him once, so it was weird. Did this mean he was on my side, or…

Marluxia?

"Besides," Officer Awning continued, "it doesn't matter if it was self defense or not. I've been talking with her and she says she doesn't want to press any charges."

If I had looked confused before, it was nothing compared to the look on my face now. "What?"

"She didn't give me a reason why. She just said she wasn't pressing this any more than she needed to."

"She's probably going to wait until we get to court," Aerith muttered with such a hateful tone that I would never expect from her. She wasn't particularly looking at me or Officer Awning, just off into space with this scowl on her petite face. "She'll probably use this as some sort of defense against you…"

I didn't say anything. Officer Awning was silent for a moment as well before clearing her throat a little and shooting a fleeting glance at the door behind her. Her voice was quiet. "Well… It probably won't matter what her defense is."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She paused for a long time. Then: "I can't say too much, but… Roughly nine years ago, there was another boy your age, Riku. My partner tells me that there were allegations of rape on his part against Larxene, but for some reason he recanted his statement. It never went to trial, so the charges were dropped. Unfortunately he was placed in a juvenile facility for filing a false report after, and a year later he was released."

Wh… Who the hell would take back their statement? Why? If there had been evidence that would have locked that bitch away, then why hadn't he taken that chance? Why would he let her run free just so she could put her hands on someone else? Just so she could put her hands on me? Had he thought the same things I had thought just earlier? That it was impossible to take her on? That it was better to keep quiet? That it was a mistake saying anything in the first place? Why…

I shook my head, fought hard to keep my voice level. "You don't really think he lied about it, do you?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, hun. We'll get in contact with him, see if he can give us his side of the story. Depending on how this goes, we can put her away for both your sakes."

Both our sakes…

Suddenly, I wanted to meet this boy. This man. Nine years ago… He would be twenty-five now. He would be out of college and working and living his life, probably still thinking back on that day that he and Larxene… It probably still stuck with him, that shame. It probably still haunted him, that hurt. He probably never forgot, just like I couldn't, even after nearly a decade.

I wanted to meet him. I wanted to hear his story. I wanted him to speak, for my sake. As selfish as that sounded, it was still true. That was how I felt. I wanted him to tell the truth. I wanted to know why he had pretended to lie. Had she threatened him? Had she done worse to him than she had to me? What was his story? How did he deal with it? I wanted to know, so I could learn to deal with it too. Because even with the possible promise of jail for Larxene, that didn't take away the damage she'd dealt. How was he dealing with it?

I wanted to meet him, right now.

Officer Awning seemed to sense the eagerness welling up inside of me and gave a slight smile, shook her head. "You need rest right now. Go on home, both of you."

"Thank you," Aerith said to her with a grateful bow of the head, then she motioned for me to get off of the bed and follow her to the door. I was reluctant, still wanting to continue this conversation. I ended up eyeing the officer almost longingly as I paused by the door.

She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'll call you soon. We'll keep you updated."

"O…kay."

"Take care."

Then we checked out of the hospital. We checked out of the hospital and drove back to Aerith's place, silently agreeing that we'd worry about the leftover boxes at my apartment another day. We just had that kind of connection, you know.

And I waited until we were just walking into her house before turning to look at the brunette. "Aerith?"

She directed her innocent gaze at me, almost tearful. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

And she just let it go right then, just started crying and shaking her head and her curls, and she pulled me into a tight hug that I found hard not to return. I just couldn't, not with the way she was holding me and shuddering against me and— She was letting out all the pain she had held in when the ambulance had first taken me away. I knew it. She was probably replaying our conversation at the café in her head again, wondering why she hadn't picked up on the fact that there was more going on than just my mother's disappearance.

She had to force her words out through her tears. "I'm gonna take care of you. Okay? I don't care what I have to do or who I have to talk to or what I have to go through. I'm gonna make you mine and I'm gonna take care of you, baby. Okay? Is that okay?"

I pressed the side of my face into her warmth. "Please don't cry."

"I mean it. You're like a son to me. I mean it, I r-really…" She couldn't get the words out anymore, but she didn't need to. I was grateful to have someone like her in my life.

This was what a mother's love was supposed to feel like.

I hugged her even tighter and slipped my eyes shut. "I know."

I didn't go to school on Wednesday. Aerith had dropped me off early, of course, before driving off to work. And I had kissed her cheek goodbye after all the crap she had to put up with at the hospital yesterday—really, that woman deserved that and more—but the moment I saw her turn down the road was the moment I cut across the school yard towards the opposite street. Towards the public library. It was one I usually didn't hang out at. It was much larger, much more organized and cozy. The one I usually went to was closer to my apartment, was more run down. But that didn't matter.

I spent about an hour there before deciding that wandering around, reading snippets of books and graphic novels weren't cutting it for me. I was bored. A little restless. One of the librarians there kept shooting me suspicious looks every time I passed the front shelves, like I was going to snatch the books resting there. (Who the hell stole library books?) I left not long after, just tired and wondering what I could do to kill time.

Taking pictures was out of the question. My old camera, the Kodak, wasn't with me, was resting at my new home on the nightstand. Because taking pictures on it wasn't the same thing. Taking pictures in general wasn't the same thing anymore. It wasn't worth it.

I couldn't believe that thought crossed my mind, but I meant it.

So I was mildly pissed and confused on what to do next when I made it back outside and stopped on the library's steps. I took a seat by the entrance, stared off into the street and the parking lot off to the side. Weren't that many people this time of day. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Go back to school? What—

My phone vibrated. It threw me off for a moment because I couldn't think of anyone that would be texting me during school hours other than Kairi, Naminé, or Sora. But it wasn't any of them, from what I saw. I examined the text with furrowed brows.

'Tara, do me a solid and pick me up after work.'

Then my heart stopped. I eyed the number, silently stared at it for what felt like an eternity.

My mom had texted me on accident.

At first the shock was too great for me to think let alone move. Then a seed of doubt planted itself in my mind, making me question if this was really my mother texting me. She had left her phone at home. But no, that was her signature beneath the words, her name spelled out in hearts and periods to space out the letters and… It must have been a different phone. She must have gone to Verizon or whoever and switched her number onto a different cell. That was the only plausible explanation I could come up with.

My mother had texted me.

Mom had texted me.

And she thought I was someone named Tara. I didn't know whether to be offended by the fact that she seemed to be fine or ecstatic about it. So I thought, maybe, I'd text her back and hope she wouldn't realize she'd made a mistake. But that wouldn't do. I needed to hear her voice. I needed to hear from the woman's mouth why she hadn't contacted me sooner, so I called her.

"Hello?"

I didn't say anything at first. Just sat on those stairs, silent, angry. Tearful. Bit my bottom lip. She sounded like she usually did. A little tired, a little bored, but okay. She sounded okay…

"Hello? Tara?"

"Mom."

There was silence. For such a long time.

"Mom, where are you?"

"S…shit."

And she hung up. And I was still and silent for so long, such a long time, before—

I called her sixteen more times, each of which went ignored. I texted her repeatedly, always the same question: 'Where are you?' She ignored those too, but I kept calling and texting and wondering why, wondering how, wondering where. Eventually my calls started going straight to voicemail. Eventually I got tired of hitting the send button over and over again. Eventually I just got tired of it all, screamed a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush, and threw my cell halfway across the pavement. Then I just kept screaming period, not caring who the fuck heard or saw. Luckily no one did.

Then, when I got that out of my system, I snatched up my bag, retrieved my scratched up (but still functioning) phone, and walked all the way back to Aerith's place.

She was a selfish child in a woman's body. She was a child who didn't know how to handle responsibility—no, she didn't want it. She didn't want responsibility or everything that came with it. She didn't want to be a mother. She didn't want to be a wife. She didn't want to be a role model. She didn't want to be with me, didn't want to be there for me, didn't want to be around me, didn't want to think about me. She just didn't want me. She'd made that clear. And you know what, what the fuck ever, I didn't want her either. Not anymore. Whatever. What the flipping fuck ever, she could starve in a ditch for all I cared. She could be beaten to death for all I cared. I wished the worst kind of death on her, too. I wanted her to feel every moment of it, to beg for some form of forgiveness that she would—never—ever—get. Or deserve.

She didn't deserve anything. She didn't deserve a damn thing. It made sense that her husband had walked out on her, even if he hadn't taken me with him. It had made sense, she probably couldn't have handled him then either. He probably saw her for the flirty, dirty, airheaded, silver haired, teal eyed fucking bimbo that she was and got out before it was too late. She hadn't deserved his love. She hadn't and still doesn't deserve anyone's love, especially not mine. Whatever. So many chances, I'd given her so many chances—

What was so hard about treating your kid right, raising him right, teaching him what he needed to be taught, loving him how he needed to be loved? What was so fucking hard about that? Why was that so hard? Why couldn't she love me? Why the fuck couldn't she love me? Hadn't she said she had, so many times before? Hadn't she acted like it? Hadn't she treated me as a son once upon a time ago? Or was she just pretending to? Had she only done it because she had been mistreated and dumped by every other man in her life, so damn if she let go of the only male in her life that was guaranteed to love her? Her own son. He had to love her, right? She couldn't get love from any other male, so her son would have to do? He could be her fallback. Was that all it ever was?

Stop. Breathe.

Hadn't she—

Just breathe.

I shouldn't have to raise myself. I shouldn't have to come to any of these conclusions. I shouldn't have to deal with this. I shouldn't be so angry at everything and everyone ninety percent of the time. I shouldn't be so tired and jaded and depressed and lonely. I shouldn't have to feel like I'm not wanted, like I'm not worth it, like I'm lucky when something does go right in my life. I shouldn't have to be so negative. I shouldn't have to wonder "why?" or "what if…" all the time. I shouldn't have to distance myself from others just because I assume they'll run away, or they'll think I'm a depressing freak, or they'll get bored, or they'll abandon me. I shouldn't have to be constantly afraid of my world falling apart. I shouldn't have to wonder how I could be happier. I shouldn't have to fantasize about my life, about a life where I'm more sociable and pleasant to be around, where I have a loving mother and father who are together and still enjoying a long marriage. I shouldn't have to deal with my parents' baggage. I shouldn't have baggage to begin with.

I shouldn't. Have. To do this.

God damn it, breathe.

The moment I made it back inside Aerith's place, I dropped my things on the floor by the front door. And I couldn't make it any further than that, could only fall onto the floor and lie there with arms crossed and my face buried in the sleeves. My phone had leapt from my hand as I'd fallen, so it rested obnoxiously close to my elbow with its screen up.

It stayed there. I stayed there.

Around noon I got a text from Naminé. The girls were missing me during lunch time, I figured.

'R u at school today or no? Wats up?'

I had eyed the text for a short while before grabbing it and replying, 'Felt a little sick today. Nothing srs.'

A few minutes' pause.

'You sure? Nothing happened?'

'No.'

'Srsly?'

'Srsly.'

'Really?'

'Stop texting me. I have a headache.'

It wasn't a lie. I'd already felt the prick of a slight ache in the back of my head, and it was growing progressively worse with each text I sent. Like needles pressing into my skull. And my mood was deteriorating from bad to worse. Naminé seemed to know better—I could imagine the worried frown she was probably shooting Kairi at the lunch table now—but she got the message. 'Feel better.'

I didn't bother replying after that. Still didn't move from my spot on the floor after that. I stayed there for another good hour before finally picking myself up and grabbing my phone one last time. Before calling that number one last time. Before ignoring the voicemail one last time. Before texting one last time.

'I don't need you anymore.'

That was the only and final thing I sent to that woman. She sent only one thing back.

'You never needed me from the start.'

That was her final lie to me.

We had a restraining order filed. It wouldn't go into effect for a couple of weeks, but it had been filed nonetheless. Then we packed the rest of my things and put them away in storage. We spoke with police and Ansem about the trial and the evidence.

A warrant to search her apartment had been issued, and they were still searching every nook and cranny for something incriminating. I wasn't surprised when Officer Awning said they hadn't found anything.

"Yet, Riku. Not yet, but we will," she'd told me.

I'd just nodded and pretended to believe her.

On the other hand, the police were collecting statements and testimonies from as many people as possible. They had Paine's statement that put me in Larxene's apartment that day. They had Xigbar's statement that said she had been at a party with him, drinking heavily. Even though she hadn't seemed that drunk, she really had been going to town. That could be either good or bad for her… They had Aerith and Marluxia's statements that I had assaulted her, but it had, in fact, been an act of self defense. The two of them hadn't heard exactly what Larxene had said to me, but they had heard the yelling. They also had Larxene's statements that I had constantly been over at her apartment, had even spent the night there on occasion and had a spare key to her apartment. She was spinning the story that whatever relationship we had had started out casual.

And that it had evolved into something sexual, that I was the one who'd initiated it. That I had threatened her so she'd be with me. That I had kept things going for so long that, eventually, she got fed up with it and backed out. That I'd had suggestive pictures of her on my camera that she didn't want to get out, so she felt her only option was to destroy the camera after confronting me. That I'd beaten her in retaliation. There wasn't enough solid evidence on my part to prove that she was lying, but there wasn't enough to prove that she wasn't. It was literally only my word against hers.

Basically, things could go either way.

"The defense is going to set you up to be the bad guy," Ansem would tell me during our sessions together. "They're going to pummel you with questions and keep poking holes in your story until you don't look credible. You just stick with what you know is the truth, be as honest as possible, and tell your side of the story."

"And if it's not enough?" I had asked him one time.

He hadn't given me a straight answer.

I knew he didn't want to give a definite yes or no, and I knew that there was no way to predict the outcome of this, but his silence hadn't been comforting. But we kept on with the sessions for weeks and we kept going about our daily lives when we weren't worrying about the upcoming trial in May.

Larxene was released from the hospital near the end of April, and I hadn't seen or heard her since. Any contact she had with me would not only put her in deeper shit than she already was, but would serve no purpose. I wasn't going to hide from her anymore.

Aerith was given permission to keep me in her home and raise me as if I was her own. Not full custody, no—the search for my mother was still going on—but a legal right to act as my guardian for the time being. At least until they could get a hold of my mom. Or until I turned eighteen, which was just a year and a half away. Over all she was just happy to have me in the first place, always perky and supportive. I'd told her things I had held back before. About Sora. About my original relationship with Larxene. About my mother.

"Why didn't you tell the police after you called her, Riku?" The woman had stared at me with wide eyes laced with disbelief.

And I'd merely shaken my head and coolly replied, "She's not coming back regardless. I don't care anymore."

We left it at that.

I focused on other things instead. I focused on school, on keeping my grades up. On working my way back into the loop with Kairi and Naminé, on hanging out with them like I used to before anything went wrong. On spending more time with Sora. And, occasionally, Roxas. We weren't close, but we weren't butting heads anymore. I focused on preparing for the trial. I focused on keeping my head on straight and pushing the memory of Larxene to the back of my mind.

The strange thing about all of this was that as messed up as it was, as iffy as it all looked, as badly as it could turn out in the end…I was feeling much better than I had in ages. By no means was I truly happy, and some of that doubt and fear from the beginning was still hiding somewhere in the depths of my mind. But I felt calmer now, more at peace. More open. More free.

"That's because you're standing up," Sora had whispered to me one night. I'd spent the day with her that weekend and we had just sat outside her grandmother's porch talking before parting ways. "It's because you're finally realizing you don't have to be afraid, that you can stand up to her. Even if you don't win, at least you'll have faced her."

"What are you, a shrink?" I'd joked with a laugh.

She didn't laugh. "Seriously."

"I know."

"Just hang in there until it's over."

But it really wouldn't be over, not soon. Not ever. This was always going to stick with me. Sora knew that. She'd known it since that day by the lake, when I had first told her about the trials and investigations and the hospital and my lost camera. She would keep telling me that a counselor or therapist would probably be best, but my talks with her were always enough. I told her things I didn't tell anyone else, and she knew that. I trusted her more than I did anyone else, even more than Aerith or Naminé or Kairi. Plus, I didn't need to sit in a room with some certified stranger for two hours just to spill my guts or be psychoanalyzed. That wasn't necessary. I could cope just fine.

"Don't take it as denial, Sora," I'd tell her. "I just don't think it's worth it."

"There's gotta be someone other than me you could talk to, though."

"You're fine."

"But I don't know everything."

And I'd just squeezed her hand and rolled my eyes at her. "No one does."

She usually didn't argue for long. She was just worried, I got that. But really, it would be fine. Just like she had stated it was the fact that I was finally standing up that was making me feel this way. Even if Larxene managed to walk free somehow, at least I would have said something. Whether she was proven guilty or not, she wouldn't be able to work anymore. She'd be labeled as a child molester and pedophile. No matter what she said, the fact that she had been accused would always be out there after the trial. It would stick with her wherever she went. Then no one would want to take her picture.

That counted for something, right?

Honestly, the only thing that was eating away at me was the knowledge of this other boy. This man. Even now, three weeks after I first told Officer Awning the truth, I didn't know much about him. All I had was his name, which Officer Awning had been reluctant with sharing with me.

"He won't speak with us, Riku. We've talked to him on many occasions, but he's not going to budge."

That bothered me. That really bothered me. I guess, for the same reason my silence had bothered Sora when she had found out the truth as well. I got it now, really, now that I was experiencing this newfound emotional freedom after coming clean. It felt…hell, it felt damn nice to come out about something like this. Even if it could go either way, it felt really nice. And it had me wondering why I had kept quiet for so long after the fact. It had me wondering why, after so many years, this man wouldn't stop staying quiet himself.

Was he still afraid? Was he still going to lie about what had really happened? Or did he just not care anymore? Did he not believe in what had happened anymore? It didn't seem right for someone to not pursue justice where justice was deserved. Especially after so long.

It bothered me.

So I called him myself, three days before I was supposed to go to trial. May fifteenth, Tuesday after school. I went in the phone book and looked him up. Caston, Sephiroth. And I called him. It took four rings before he picked up.

"What?"

Sheesh, way to sound pleasant.

"I…is this Sephiroth?"

There was a slight pause. I could sense the apprehension in his ice chill voice. "Yes. Who's speaking?"

"My name is Riku Prioletti."

"And?"

"I needed to talk to you."

He didn't say anything. I gripped my phone tightly in my hand, took an uneasy seat on my bed. Tried to keep my hand from shaking.

"About Larxene…"

He still didn't say anything. In fact, he was silent for so long that I actually thought he had hung up. But there was a low breath after all those minutes, a hint of exasperation. "I'm tired of hearing that name."

"The police called you about her."

"I hear she's on trial." A light groan. "Is that true?"

I nodded my head against my cell. "Yeah."

"I dropped that case years ago. They couldn't drag her to court because I refused to testify."

"It's for my case."

"That's too bad."

"I think you should testify anyway."

"Don't call this number anymore."

"You would still run away," I demanded quietly. "Even now? Even when she can't hurt you anymore? You'd still stay tight lipped when you could have stopped her before had you opened your mouth the first time? You'd leave the burden for some other boy who's just as hurt as you?"

He sounded so cold, so hardened from whatever memories Larxene's name brought back. It was understandable, really. I didn't know the whole story. I didn't know if she had done worse to him than she had to me. I really didn't know. But I could hear enough in his voice to know that not confronting her now wouldn't make things better for him. I could hear enough in his voice to know that he was still living with it.

"Are you there?" I asked, almost desperately.

There was a brief silence. "Riku, was it?"

"Yes."

"Are you free tomorrow?"

My body stiffened a little. "Why?"

"We should talk in person."

It was hard not to smile, if only a little. "Yeah, we should."