I had a dream, one of those nights following Halloween. I was with Adrian, but it wasn't Adrian. Like…it was. But it didn't look like him. Dream logic, I guess. But I knew it was him. And we were together. We were in love. We were walking around Strawberry Fields in Central Park—like, because we'd talked about it. And we were arguing about what movie to see, where we wanted to go for dinner. Normal stuff. Like we were normal. And I looked at him, and I asked him to bend down closer to me. And he said, 'Why?' and I said, 'So I can kiss my boyfriend.' And it was all sassy and cute, and he did, and I kissed him, and…it was so perfect. And I didn't see his face. But, like, I knew it was Adrian. And I knew that he didn't look like a beast.

I woke up, and I didn't know how to feel. I felt flushed and I had to kick the bedcovers off, though it early November and cold as hell. I had felt, at the end, a very definite, very non-platonic want for Adrian to kiss me senseless. To get alone with him, so we'd have the privacy to…

I'd…never thought about Adrian that way. Like…sexually, I mean. I didn't think…I could? I didn't think I would be able to, with how he looked. How…bestial it would be. How…wrong.

I did love him. I did. But a huge underlying factor of not fostering my feelings toward him, or acknowledging his feelings toward me…was the simple fact that I wouldn't ever be able to have...that part of a relationship. Not with him. Not when he…looked the way he did. Like a beast. With a snout.

Like, I'm not ready to have sex any time soon. I know I'm not. I'm sixteen, and I have issues to work through before I'll be able to see sex in a positive light, to be perfectly honest. But…I don't want to utterly destroy the possibility? If I stay with Adrian, aside from being chained to someone who needs me, I would be condemning myself to celibacy. Because I won't cheat. That's not who I am. I won't just go and sleep with someone I don't love because I can't sleep with the one I do love.

But…I also don't like the idea of the scope of my sexual experience being…when I was raped when I was thirteen. I…I don't want that at all.

God.

I hadn't thought about it so bluntly, before, and I'd never used the word, even just in my head.

Words have power. I knew that with how many books I'd read. Words have the power to strengthen and embolden or else crush and distress. When they say 'sticks and stones can break your bones, but words can never hurt you,' that's actually legitimate, 100% bullshit. Tell them I said so.

To put words to something; to give it a meaning and a name…is to give it weight. And to deliberately avoid doing so is a semblance of making it unimportant. The trappings of it, anyway. Like when I hadn't wanted to say Hob's name aloud.

Like if I didn't say Hob's name aloud, he wasn't actually real.

If I didn't outright say that he'd…that he'd raped me…then…maybe it would be like it hadn't happened.

So, when I dreamed of wanting Adrian that way…wanting that part of him, wanting that part of what romance could be, if he didn't look like some wolf-creature, and if I weren't so screwed up…I dunno. It threw me for a loop. I couldn't sleep anymore.

Shall I paint a picture for you? Welcome to the theatre of Lindy's mind, ca 2:54 AM, played in an endless loop for eternity. Featuring titles such as: Should I tell him? Would that hurt him? To tell him I couldn't be with him, and this was why? Would it be better, in any way, if he knew at least that I loved him? And that…I wanted to love him with all of me? But…that I couldn't? That we couldn't?

I tortured myself with these questions and ones like them, and then this gem popped in there: I don't even know if…he could. Do that. Physically. Like…was he a wolf…underneath? Would wolf…parts…work the same?

God, I didn't want to be thinking about this. My face felt hot and red. I felt shame for even thinking it could be a possibility.

The next morning, I was so distracted during Yoga that Will noticed. And he's blind. I wasn't myself for our tutoring, either, and by lunch, Magda had gotten wind of it, and pulled me aside to ask if I needed anything, but was afraid to ask the others because they were boys.

I mumbled that I was fine, I just was feeling a little weird, and I tried really hard to turn it around. I didn't want everyone to worry. I didn't want to explain what was wrong, either.

At the end of tutoring, Will announced that we were starting our break for the holidays, saying we were so far ahead of his curriculum, he needed time to draft a new one, anyway, and that the holidays seemed as good an excuse as any.

Great. I weirded out Will, and he thought it was his fault.

"Are…you okay?" Adrian asked later, when we were in my library, picking out books to read. We always did that together. But it was weird, now. Everything was weird, now.

I'd made it weird.

I made to shrug; I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk about anything; I was still processing hard core. Then Adrian looked serious, lowering his voice.

"I…I didn't tell them. What…what you told me? I wasn't sure what…you wanted. But…I didn't. And…and if you don't want me to, I won't…it's not really my story to tell, anyway. But…just…Lindy, it wasn't right. And…and not saying anything to anyone for so long…hasn't done any good. That…that fucking…" I blinked, and Adrian breathed deliberately, as though to calm himself down. "He doesn't deserve your silence."

My heart thudded, and I couldn't breathe. He…was absolutely right. Woah. "I just…I…I never even…said it to myself, before," I murmured, and it was true. I hadn't even named the act.

Rape. The rape.

"And…you…need to feel good, too," Adrian intercepted quickly. "You…don't have to do anything you…are scared to. Not…not ever. Okay? But…just…I…I wanted to let you know that, I guess. I dunno. I'm hardly one to talk. I haven't talked to my dad, in like, over a year. Definitely…issues there."

God, I loved him.

I moved forward, wrapping my arms around him, happy when he immediately reciprocated, and I was enveloped in him, cocooned in him, and safe.

I wished I could do for him what he did for me. I knew that underneath everything, he was always a little heartbroken because he didn't think I loved him, because of the way he looked.

"If I…talk to someone," I said hesitantly, will…will you? I mean…I don't…" I started to backtrack, because logistics. Adrian can't see a therapist. That wouldn't work. Adrian would cause a panic.

"I'll…call my dad," Adrian said slowly, "if…you call yours. Deal?"

Hmm. That…might work. Adrian desperately needed to say some stuff to his dad. He'd been feeling so lonely, and he didn't deserve that. And his dad should know that Adrian had been hurt by him. Adrian's mom had left them, and so when Adrian's dad left him, too, did he honestly expect everything to be all right?

But…my dad…God. Did…did he even remember? Was he high enough that he forgot? I…almost hoped so. 'So high he sold me' would sit better with me than 'he wanted a fix so bad he let me get raped.' It wasn't much of a difference, but it was still a difference. It was still something that mattered, that I kind of wanted to know.

"Deal," I said breathlessly, and Adrian settled back into our embrace.

AUTHORS NOTE

For the life of me I can't write consistently enough to keep an actual schedule. Just know that I am more aware of my lack of updates in my stories in progress than you might believe. And I try to keep myself quasi-immersed in the fandom of my respective pieces so that I can keep getting inspiration and writing.

More soon-ish!