CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (Part Two): He's Just Drunk

"Why can't Ashley be here instead of you?" he asks. "I love her more." His words sting, but I ignore them. He's drunk.

He's drunk.

He's drunk.

"Because you just tried to rape her, Mitch," I say, trying to keep my voice level.

"No, I didn't," he says.

"Yes, you did."

"You're lying."

"I'll show you the picture tomorrow. Just go to sleep."

"I want Ashley here," he whines.

"Well you know what, Mitch? We can't always get what we want in life. It sucks, but that's just the way it is. Now shut up, lay down, and go the fuck to sleep," I snap at him. He looks like he's just been slapped. I regret it for a brief second, but then I remember what her tried on Ashley and regain my resolve. He lays down.

And keeps talking.

"Easy for you to say. You're not used to getting your way because you're ugly," he says. He sounds offended, and I have to actually hold my wrist to keep myself from hitting him.

"True as that may be, you just tried to force yourself on one of your friends. That's not something you can take back, Mitch."

"It's not like she'll even remember it," he says. I'm just about to tell him that not everyone is as drunk as he is when he goes on.

"Besides, if it had been you that I was supposedly trying to have sex with, you woulda let me do it. You're so easy." His tone is matter-of-fact, but every word hits me like a brick.

"What the hell are you talking about," I say evenly. My voice almost breaks.

"You wanna know why the girlfriends don't like you? It's cause you flirt with their boyfriends all the time."

"That's not true," I say.

"Yeah, it is. You even flirted with me when we first met. I just wish I'd had a chance to talk with your ex so I could find out just how easy you are." His factual tone makes it so much worse.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," I say. Because he doesn't.

He has no idea. No one does.

"Really? Because all that flirting you do is the only reason the guys like you. I had to do a lot of arguing to get them to let you be here this week. I guess it was okay once they were flirted with. Kinda all you're good for, anyway."

"Mitch, please, just go to sleep." I stop fighting and just let the hurt wash over me. My voice sounds broken. I rest my head on my knees.

"I'm just telling the truth. You're useless and ugly and easy and we keep you around because we know it won't be hard to get into your pants."

At the word 'useless,' my last bit of resistance disappears.

"Are you crying?" Mitch asks. I almost laugh at his childish, innocent tone.

"What do you think, Mitch? You've spent the past few minutes telling me that I'm good for nothing but sex." My voice hitches periodically.

"Oh. Well, if it makes you feel any better, you give nice hugs," he says. I look up.

"Really?" I ask.

"Yeah." He says. "All your fat makes you all warm and squishy."

At this, I lose any patience I still had. I get up and place my hand on the doorknob.

"Wait, don't go," he says.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I need you," he says plaintively.

"Really? Because you just called me fat, ugly, useless, and easy. Maybe you should fucking think next time before doing that."

"I'm sorry I made you cry. I know what I did wrong and I won't do it again. Please stay," he says.

"No, you don't," I say.

"Don't what?"

"Know what you did wrong. You don't get it. No one does! You might think you know me or understand me, but you don't. You can't, because I never let that happen. The Lily you know is the one everyone knows. The real Lily is so much less than that." I take my hand off the doorknob and sit back down.

"In my junior year of high school, I went into deep depression. On the outside, I was fine. When I was alone, I was honest with myself. I was broken, and it was my fault. I'm my own problem. I don't need anyone else to beat me down with the truth, because I handle that myself just fine.

"One night, I got particularly low. I was stressing out big time, and I couldn't find an escape. So I vented on myself.

"It hurt a lot. I wasn't cutting but I might as well have been because it hurt probably more than a knife would. I was using a pen to dig the word 'FREAK' into my arm. It just seemed like the perfect embodiment of what I was, summed up in one word.

"I was all the things you've said I am. I had fat. I wasn't pretty, to say the least. I was useless, unable to live up to the standards set for me. I was desperate, and if I'd had the opportunity I woulda been easy. No doubt. I felt like a mutant. What kind of normal girl is five foot nine at fifteen years old?

"The ink wore off, obviously. I moved on. Became more confident and outgoing. Got my ass in gear and finally got done what I needed to. Thing is, that girl is still here. The fifteen-year-old alone in her room, hurting herself, is still a part of me. I can't get rid of her, no matter how hard I try." Mitch is asleep, but I don't care.

"You wanna know why I'm crying?" I whisper. "Because it's true. Almost every word you said was true. I'm not pretty, I'm not all that helpful, and I can stand to lose a few pounds. So you know what? Yeah, I flirt. Because I can't tell flirting apart from normal talking. And yeah, it probably wouldn't be hard to get into my pants. I've had exactly one boyfriend my entire life. For God's sake after all these years I'm still a–" I falter.

"Alone. I'm still alone. But at least I figured out how to love myself for who I am." I stop, realizing I've run out of steam and things to say. Instead, I just let my head fall back onto my knees. I cry, really cry for the first time in a long time.

Without warning, I feel an arm pull me into a side hug.

"I'm sorry, Lily," Mitch says. "You're not really ugly, and the girls do like you. I just said that because I was angry. I get jealous sometimes, that's all. I feel like you're supposed to be mine, but I forget that that's not true. Okay? I still love you. You're one of my best friends. I would never try to hurt you. I just didn't know." His words are slurred, and I realize that he's still drunk out of his mind. I bury my face in his shoulder, waiting until the sobs die down to speak.

"It's okay, Mitch," I say, wiping my eyes. "Nobody knew. You're the first person I've ever told. Not even Belle or Lizzie know." He hugs me tighter in response. We stay there until I get uncomfortable. I get up and blow my nose while he goes back to his pillow.

"Mitch?" I ask after we've both laid down on our separate sides of the bathroom floor.

"Yeah?"

"Please don't tell Belle about this, okay? I don't want her to know."

"'Course not," he replies, comforting me. He won't remember this conversation, but at least he promised anyway.

I wait until his breathing is deep and even to stop the recording on my iPod.