Well, here goes nothing…

Julianna~

Clay's question really caught me off guard. One moment I thought he was going to kiss me and the next moment he was asking me whether I wanted truth… or dare.

It seemed like a silly question, actually. I always imaged truth or dare being played by a group of giggling girls at sleepovers or at those awkward boy/girl parties. Never with a neighbor boy whose relationship with me only went back to a few weeks ago. Why should I tell him my truths or complete his dares when I could barely call him a friend? But maybe that was the point. The less we knew of each other, the less we could judge. We were an open playing field, one's secret against another's.

Still, at the sound of Clay's question, I found myself turning my head away. My wanting of his kiss was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar emotion that sent butterflies to flutter inside my stomach. My mouth was going dry. I could feel moister on my hands as nerves set in.

"D-do you not want to play?" Clay asked awkwardly.

"It-it's not that I don't want to," I tried to say. My hands twisted in my lap.

"I thought we agreed that if I told you my secrets, you'd tell me yours."

I took a deep breath and turned back towards him.

Clay's face was at a less distracting distance away, but it seemed like his green eyes were even more prevalent now that they mixed with concern and confusion. He had set his sketch of us aside, giving me his utmost attention. The silence that was filling the room was growing more uncomfortable with each of my wavering breaths; we were both waiting for me to speak.

If Clay had really meant what he said at my house this morning, then maybe this was his way of expressing how he truly felt. These truth or dare questions, what if they went deeper than just inquiries in a game? Hadn't I only wanted to hang out with him to get more information, to figure him out? Maybe truth or dare was the way to do that.

I gulped and I was sure Clay heard me. As much as I wanted to know Clay's past, I was still afraid to share mine. It was such a dark time in my life, like a giant rain cloud in an otherwise blue, cloudless sky. It changed who I am, who I would be. Did someone I barely know deserve to know such a secret?

Clay seemed to sense this. "Juli, if you don't-"

"No, its okay," I said quickly. So quick I didn't have time to regret my decision. "Um, I'll go with… truth."

Even when Clay causally grinned at me, I felt myself biting my lip.

"We'll start off easy." His eyes wandered off for a moment and I stared right at his face, not even trying to do it discreetly. He really was cute. Everything about him, from his full red lips to those emerald green eyes, had a spark that most didn't have.

I was still staring when he looked at me. I held his gaze, thinking back to a few minutes ago when I thought he was going to kiss me. What if he had? What would've I done? What would've I said? I felt somewhat relieved I didn't have to find out.

"So, first question." Clay sat up a little taller. "Why do you like Bryce?"

Instantly, my body went rigid. If I had guessed what Clay was going to ask me, it definitely wasn't that. I didn't know what was worse, knowing I'd have to answer it or knowing this meant having to think about the real reasons I fell for Bryce to begin with.

The explanation sounded stupid now. It was those blue eyes and black hair that made him the center of my universe all those years ago. I guess I was just going through the motions of having a crush; I wasn't thinking, I was just living. But what other elements made Bryce so attractive to me? Was there any at all?

A soft blush formed on my cheeks. "Do I have to tell you?"

"Its part of the game," was all he answered with.

I took a deep breath and tried not to notice how pathetic my answer sounded. "He's cute. He's nice. H-he's… I don't know." I trailed off.

"That sounds…" He rubbed a hand across his chin, thinking. "Generic."

"I guess I've never really thought about," I answered and I realized how much that fact bugged me. Why did I like Bryce? What made him more special than any other boy who went to our school?

I shook my head a little. This wasn't the time to worry about something like that. I took the opportunity of silence to ask, "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"When you gave me my portrait, you mentioned something about knowing what it's like to die. What did you mean by that?"

Clay's facial expression hardened.

"If that's an okay question to ask; I don't know. You said truth," I added in a rush.

"No, its okay," he said quietly. He was silent for a few beats before he said, in a hushed voice, "It's just that my parents completely ignore me. On the outside, to people not in our family, they make us seem perfectly fine, but on the inside it's like I'm not even here." He glanced at the door. "I don't even know where they are now."

"So they just ignore you?" I asked just as quietly. The feeling of the room had grown somber. Words felt like they should be spoken in whispers.

"No, that's not all. When they do see me, they don't have anything nice to say."

"What do they say?"

Clay shrugged. "Stuff. You know, negative stuff, things that make me feel bad about myself," he murmured. His fidgeted with his hands before adding, in such a low whisper I had to lean in to hear, "Sometimes it's like I'm not even alive. I'm dead. They don't want me. I'm not living." He looked at me solemnly. "Do you get what I mean?"

The look set deep in Clay's eyes wasn't a look I had ever seen before. There was pain but something more too, something strange, something maybe even dangerous, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I wanted to say I understood where he was coming from, but it was hard. My parents loved me; Matt and Mike, no matter how annoying they got, loved me too. I guess I had always been surrounded by a supportive family, and imagining my mom, dad, or brothers any other way left me a little sad. And knowing Clay's sadness was real only made this worse.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely.

Clay shrugged. "I've gotten used to it. I've found ways to deal with it."

How could he possibly deal with it? "How," I said aloud.

With no words of explanation, Clay reached for my hand, and I allowed him to grasp my shaky fingers and lay them gently over his left wrist. I relished in the softness of his skin before lifting my hand up. Instantly, a wave of shock ran through me and my breath caught in my throat. Underneath my hand was the healing remains of a long, thin cut.

"Clay! You-you-" I couldn't even get the words out. "You shouldn't hurt yourself!"

"I just… I just needed to feel something," he tried to explain in a rush.

"No!" My voice got louder. I grabbed for his hand, not even sure why, just knowing holding his hand might give more meaning to how worried I must have looked then.

"Julianna, I'm okay. Really. Don't look so upset."

"You're just a really nice guy, Clay. I don't think you deserve any of this."

Despite the wave of tension washing over the room, Clay managed to smile.

"I'm glad you're worried about me." He rubbed my hand with his gently. "But, honestly, I'm okay, Juli. I don't do it often; it just helps, you know. Breathe. You look really overwhelmed."

It wasn't until he said that that I noticed how hot the room felt. It was like we were sitting in the middle of the sun. I pulled my hair away from my face, off my neck. I really hadn't expected Clay's truth to effect me this much. Or maybe deep inside I was worried about my own truth Clay was expecting me to tell him.

"Are you okay?" I heard him ask.

"Are you?"

He looked at me for a moment. "I'm okay if you're okay."

I wished he hasn't answered that way. "Then I don't think… I don't think you're okay," I whispered.

It came back to me unexpectedly, just like in my dream. Grant's deep brown eyes. His strong arms. The fire. Pooling into my thoughts, overpowering my senses, for a moment it felt like I was there again, trapped within the nightmare's grasp, struggling, fighting.

Clay's hand was still wound around mine and he squeezed my fingers. It brought me back to reality. Something wet trailed down my face. Tears. I was crying.

"Julianna, what's wrong?"

"It's- it's nothing."

"No, tell me what's wrong. What happened?"

I turned away, finding it easier to stare out the window than at the boy sitting next to me.

"Julianna," Clay whispered.

Then the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"A-a really long time ago, before Bryce moved in, another family had lived where he lived. They had a son named Grant. He was sixteen, almost ten years older than I was." I closed my eyes. "I was six years old and I had no friends in the neighborhood, so I would go over and try to talk to him. I thought we could be friends." I shook my head shamefully. "How stupid, how stupid I was."

"What happened?"

"We became friends, or what my six-year-old self thought friends were. My parents always said to stay away from Grant, but I went over to his house when they weren't paying attention because he was the only person I had. He was my only friend.

"I honestly thought he was my best friend. I trusted him so much. I could even say I loved him. But he hurt me. He-he hurt me and I didn't even know it."

"What did he do?" Clay whispered.

"We… we did… stuff. He-he made me do stuff. I didn't even know what we were doing; I just went along because-" My voice broke. Clay's hand clung onto mine harder. "I-I trusted him.

"And then I was over at his house one day and my mom showed up and found us." The words were coming out faster. "And I didn't understand why she got so angry or why she called the cops. And I asked her why I couldn't hang out with Grant anymore and I was so upset and then she said he was sexually abusing me and-and I didn't even know it, I didn't know what that was, I didn't-"

I was heaving now, the sobs rising in my throat so quick I couldn't breathe. Wet tears drenched my face. There's was nothing I could control. It felt like I'd left my body, watching myself break down but not being able to do anything to stop myself from giving into the memory.

"Julianna. Julianna." Clay was saying my name over and over again. "Julianna, it's okay. That's all over now."

"He-he-he hurt me so-so bad," I sobbed.

"What he did was terrible. But he's not going to hurt you again."

"He-" Grant's face appeared in my vision and it was terrifying.

Clay shook me. His voice was sterner. "No. Julianna, look at me. You're okay. You're safe."

But I wouldn't stop. And that's when Clay made his move.

In one quick movement, Clay's arms were around me, pulling my face into his chest, my lips pressing against the soft fabric of his shirt. His hands laid flat against my back to keep me against him. He turned his face so his check was resting on the top of my head.

The move caught me off guard, but my body instantly reacted. My hands clung to him. I had to get closer. He felt like life itself. Maybe the closer I got to him, the better chance I had to get out of this nightmare.

I didn't feel like myself at all. I was holding onto Clay and Grant's face was in my head, haunting me, and I didn't want to be here and yet I didn't want to leave and I felt so confused and-

With sudden force, Clay pulled me away. Gasping for breath, I looked at him almost apologetically.

I had just broken down in front of a boy I barely knew. I had just told him the secret only about four other people knew. He must think I'm crazy.

I wiped away the few tears still lingering on my checks.

"I should go," I whispered weakly, embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Clay whispered back. When I started to move away from him, his hands firmly grabbed my waist, forcing me to look back at him. In a louder voice, he commanded, "And don't go."

I tried to laugh but it came out as a cry.

"I'm a mess."

"You're pretty when you cry."

"Don't say that. I should really go, Clay."

I tried pulling away again, but his grip remained. He moved closer.

"Just wait," he breathed.

"For what?" I whispered, staring at his green eyes only inches from my own.

His eyelids closed halfway, making him look both sleepy and attractive. His face moved closer to mine and my heart started beating faster and faster before I could even understand why.

One of his hands came up and stroked my tear-stained check before curling up into my hair. He whispered something, I was just too overwhelmed to understand.

What was going on? This shouldn't have been happening. I had just told Clay my secret and I was in his arms and now this. This. Why wasn't I stopping this?

Clay's forehead touched mine. I breathed in his scent before closing my eyes and waiting for his lips to touch mine.