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Where Courage Ignites

12. Bury Him

January 18th, 2018

Troy was silent again as we waited for biology class to start this morning. I decided to check my phone and found an email from the guidance office:

Hello Gabriella,

Thank you for reaching out to us. We're happy you feel comfortable coming to the guidance office in a time of need. We've reviewed your schedule and would like to meet with you Thursday, January 18th during your open period at 1:10pm. Please reply by 10am tomorrow if you may or may not make it. We will give your slot to someone else if you do not respond.

Study hard,

The Guidance Office

First I messaged Taylor to tell her about the meeting, and then I typed a response and sent it off, my phone making a loud swishing sound as it delivered the email.

"Maybe if some of you spent less time on your phones and more time studying," Mr. Brannigan spoke, slapping my quiz down on my table in front of me, "you could pass your quiz."

I looked at the piece of paper marked 54.3% in thick, red ink. I immediately thought it had to be some kind of a mistake, but found a plethora of errors when I inspected the page closer.

I nervously asked Troy, "How did you do?"

"Not so good," he admitted. "My study buddy has been missing in action this whole week. I feel a little lost without her. I sure hope she turns up again soon."

I felt on the verge of tears, not in sorrow (for a change), but in hope. My heart swelled at the idea of meeting with Troy again, and I was overcome with gratitude for my second chance. "I think your study buddy would love to meet with you again. And if she were here, I think she'd want to apologize to you for how she acted towards you."

"Tell her she can make it up to me with more of her mother's brownies," he smirked.

"Deal!" I sincerely smiled and it felt magnificent, if only for a moment.

I dreaded my open period, yet it seemed to approach faster than usual given my distaste for it. I found Taylor, a hand draped over the handle of her rolling back pack and the other holding her phone, waiting outside the guidance office for me.

"Hey," I said, trying to stand straight, but my stomachache preventing me from doing so.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

"I don't know, Taylor," I laid my hand over my cramping abdomen. "I don't know if I can do this."

She turned to me and guided me by my shoulders to look at her. "Gabriella," she spoke. "Everything will be okay."

"You don't know that," I diverted my eyes from hers, aiming them towards the tile floor of the hallway.

"Look at me," Taylor said, gently laying her fingers underneath my chin and guiding me to look at her.

I jerked my head away to the side.

She sighed, "I know you can do this. I know that you have the strength within you."

"Where?" I finally looked into her concerned, brown eyes. My voice shook with sadness as I argued, "Do I appear to be someone strong? I have been a wreck this last week, if you haven't noticed."

"Gabri-"

"I am a mess," I interrupted. "I am nothing but scared and hurt and alone."

"You are not alone, Gabriella." Taylor's fingers tightened around my shoulders and she stepped closer, "You are not alone. You have me."

I dropped my head; "You can't go through this for me."

"No, but I will go through this beside you. I will always be there to support you. No matter what happens, I promise."

I nodded and leaned my head back, forcing the tears to stay in my eyes. "I still don't know if I can do this. I'm not strong. I'm not brave. I'm not courageous."

"Of course you are." Taylor rubbed my arm.

"No," I shook my head, "I'm not."

"You have courage within you, Gabriella."

"Where?"

"Here," She said, pushing her finger onto my sternum. "That is where courage ignites. You have a strong heart and I know it will provide you the courage you need when the time comes. You cannot fail with that arsenal of courage. Now please, go into the guidance office and meet with a counselor. Tell them everything." Taylor opened the door for me.

I sheepishly stuck my head inside, spotting a huddle of chairs in the waiting area and a low desk with an old secretary. I felt a gentle, hesitant push on my back and heard the door shut closed behind me. Twiddling my hands behind my back, I slowly approached the secretary's desk. "Umm," I cleared my throat to find my voice.

"What can I do for you, dear?" The old woman said, her gentle eyes peering at me from behind her thick, circular spectacles.

"I'm Gabriella Montez," I said far more evenly than I thought I could. "I scheduled an appointment with a counselor."

"Gabriella Montez," she repeated, her eyes scanning the computer monitor in front of her while she scrolled. I watched on patiently, my eyes focusing on her thinning, gray hair that framed her face. "I found you," she suddenly spoke. "Okay, I have you entered. You'll be meeting with Mrs. Brannigan today."

"Wait, who?"

"Mrs. Brannigan."

"Can I meet with someone else?" I asked, fearing she was the only Mrs. Brannigan, the counselor and mother Anthony spoke of once before.

"No, unfortunately," the woman spoke regrettably. "She's the only counselor we have in this week."

I stiffly turned to take a seat in the waiting chairs, when I heard my name.

"Gabriella?" I turned around to see a middle-aged Asian woman with the skin, hair, and eyes resembling Anthony's. She had her foot placed on the other side of the doorframe to hold her as leaned out of her office.

"Yes," I forced out against my collapsing throat.

"Come on inside," she said, disappearing into her room.

Against my many hesitations, I stepped forward across the carpeted floor into her office. Once I was inside, she sat on the other side of her desk and motioned for me to take my seat. I slowly lowered into the chair and stared at a pile of star-shaped magnets on the desk.

"So, why are we meeting today?" She folded her hands on top of her desk and I noticed a small, golden wedding ring glistening in the fluorescent light. "What is on your mind?"

I glanced behind her to the cabinets surrounding her desk, adorned with photos of her, Mr. Brannigan, and Anthony. I said in a small, shaking voice, "Anthony."

She looked over her shoulder at the collage. "Do you know my son?"

"Your son," I repeated as a nervous sweat broke out across my body.

"Yes, is – is it something about Anthony?"

I closed my eyes and remembered what Taylor said, trying to channel the courage in my heart. The bloody and roughened chunk of what was left of my heart twitched inside the empty cavity my chest and started a small flame, just enough to get me to start.

"I went to a party," I blurted out quickly so that I could get it all out before my courage was completely depleted, "Anthony was at the party. I started drinking the punch and it tasted funny. I didn't know it was spiked and he got me to drink more. Then when I tried to leave, he forced me into a bedroom," my bottom lip quivered too hard to continue. I dropped my head into my hands and began weeping. I moved my shaking hands up the side of my face to my hairline, gripping onto the roots and tugging at them in distress.

She was silent for a few minutes and I could only imagine how she looked as I bawled in front of her.

"What do you think happened in the bedroom, Gabriella?" She asked sternly.

I dropped my hands into my lap, and they immediately snapped into fists. They constricted tighter and tighter as my nails dug into my palms. Against my shaking body and heaves for air, I coughed out, "He raped me."

Without a moment's consideration, she began, "I know my son. You are mistaken, Gabriella. You are in shock. You are confused. It had to have been someone else. It was not Anthony."

"I know what happened to me, Mrs. Brannigan. I may not have control over what happened, but I certainly know who did it."

"You know nothing!" She snapped, laying her fists onto her desk. "You know nothing of what these false accusations can do to a young man. These kinds of lies will destroy his future!

"Gabriella," she suddenly calmed, "I am so sorry for what happened to you. I want nothing more than to see an awful person served justice, but we will never see that happen if you continue to frame my son. I know he is innocent. You need to remember what actually happened that night, who actually took you into the bedroom. Then we may discuss how to move forward."

I sat in her chair motionless, hot tears leaking from my eyes and caressing my cheeks as they fell.

"Please," Mrs. Brannigan stood and crossed around her desk to the door. "Leave."

I rose from the chair, wiping the snot underneath my nose onto my sleeve in the process.

I exited the guidance office with my head hung low in defeat.

"Here," Taylor held my book bag out to me.

I took it and murmured, "We are never speaking of this again," before fleeing down the hallway. I heard her call after me, but I kept moving, the tears stinging in my eyes.

When the final bell rang, I made my only goal to make it out the front doors and to my mom's van without being noticed by anyone. I winced each time I turned the corner, afraid Anthony would be right behind it.

I had survived all the way out the front doors when I felt someone's hand around my wrist.

"No!" I yelped, closing my eyes tightly and batting the perpetrator off, "Don't touch me!"

"Whoa, relax."

I opened my eyes and found Troy slowly backing away with his hands in the air, a few curious onlookers watching the commotion.

"Troy," I gasped. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"It's okay. I'm sorry if I startled you."

"It's alright." I sidestepped to the brick wall of the building, out of the way of the flocks of people leaving.

Troy joined me and asked, "When do you want to study tonight?"

Just the thought alone of starting on the endless assignments I was behind on exhausted me. Truth be told, all I wanted was to sleep the entire evening away. "Do you mind if I take a rain check? I just…It's been a long day."

"That's alright. How does tomorrow morning sound? I get here around seven."

"Yeah, I'll have to see what my mom says."

"Okay, and don't forget about our agreement."

I shot my eyes from side to side in confusion, "What?"

"You were going to bring me some of your mom's brownies?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, I know. I'll ask her."

"Okay," Troy chuckled. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodbye."

Far too exhausted from the school day, I immediately retired into the safe enclosure that is my bed the moment I arrived home. I buried my face in the pillow and brought the covers over my fatigued body and fell into a deep slumber until my mother knocked on my door.

"Gabriella!" She yelled, "come downstairs and eat dinner with the family."

My nap had only taken off a sliver off of the exhaustion I felt earlier. I rubbed my eyes and took my sweet time leaving the warmth of my bed.

"Gabriella?" She knocked again.

"I'm up!" I snapped.

"Watch the attitude!" She warned me before going back downstairs.

I dragged my heavy feet all the way to my seat at the dining room table.

My father happily greeted me, "I'm pleased to see you've joined us."

"Yeah," I groaned before tacking on, "me too."

My mother laid a plate filled to its maximum with turkey, mashed potatoes, and buttered green beans in front of me. "Gravy?" She held the little bowl and ladle out to me.

"No thanks," I said, already doubting my ability to finish the mountain of food that already weighed down my plate.

My mother took her seat across the table from me and began cutting up Isabella's portion. "How's school?" She asked.

I felt my heart disintegrate at the reminder. "Fine," I hollowly responded.

She followed up, "How are your grades?"

"The same."

"Just fine? Does that mean you're getting A's?"

A sting of disappointment stung at my core to realize that she was more concerned with my grades than why I've been so terrified to go to school each day. "Yeah," I responded.

My father asked, "How's Troy doing? We never see him around here anymore. Are you two still studying together?"

"Kind of. We're both just busy."

My mom said, "I thought you needed his book to study."

"…Yeah," I admitted.

"Well? Don't you need to see him then?"

"Yeah. We were planning on meeting up before school tomorrow morning. Could you drop me off early?"

"How early?"

"Like seven."

She abruptly tossed her fork onto her plate with a clank! "Why am I only hearing about this now? I have my own schedule to worry about, you know."

"Okay, then don't take me in early. Just forget about it if it's a problem."

"It's not a problem tomorrow, but I'm saying that it could have b-"

"So you're mad at me over a just hypothetical situation then?"

My father raised his voice over our bickering, "Can we please have one family dinner together without arguing? That's all I ask for."

My mother and I dropped our argument and the rest of the dinner occurred in silence, only the utensils scraping against the plates and Isabella's occasional coos to be heard.


January 19th, 2018

I couldn't stop yawning on the ride to school. We were even up before the lazy sun rose. My mother easily pulled up to the front of the school without anyone else in line. I walked through the gloom outside towards the bright lights shining from inside the school.

I found Troy at a table in the library underneath an inflatable book dangling from the ceiling.

"Hey," he greeted me with a smile.

"Hey," I parroted, taking a seat across the short table from him.

"Where are my apology brownies?"

"Crap." I hit my forehead against the table and murmured into its wooden surface. "I forgot."

"What?" Troy chuckled.

I sat up straight and repeated, "I forgot to ask my mom. She probably wouldn't have said yes anyways. She was already pretty peeved about having to take me in so early."

"I'm sorry, we could have found another time like after school or something."

"I can't study after school," I divulged. "I can't do much of anything, actually. I always feel too exhausted."

"Oh, do you sleep enough during the night?"

"Yeah," I confessed, my filter evidently not activated yet so early in the morning. "I'm always sleeping."

"Oh…is…are you alright?"

I sighed. "I'm fi-"

"Fine?" He cut me off, "I get if you don't want to talk about whatever is wrong, but you're lying to me. You were crying in class two days ago and you have been acting all different. You're not fine, but so what? Most of us aren't. Admit it. Own it."

I gazed at Troy in perplexion, his words playing back in my head as I deeply considered them. First, I was not prepared for him to notice and call out that something was wrong with me. Not that he's oblivious or unmindful; I just didn't think he regarded my feelings much. Secondly, his acceptance and understanding of my distressed state surpassed that of my own. Could it be possible that I find power and comfort in confessing to this suffering? He said that most of us aren't fine, and I couldn't help but wonder what could be bothering the seemingly flawless guy.

I watched him as he casually reached into his backpack and took out the massive biology textbook as though he hadn't just completely shattered the misconception I had of him. He glanced up and caught my expression. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I quickly shook my head. "We should start on the homework."

My head felt ten times heavier and harder to hold up than usual in biology this morning. The lecture dragged on and on until he finally wrapped it up after what felt like a solid infinity of biology problems. He was giving us a ridiculously exhaustive assignment list when he tacked on, "Gabriella, please come to the supply closet once you've packed up."

Troy and I exchanged anxious glances. I whispered to him, "I'll text you later," before walking to the supply room where Mr. Brannigan waited. He was leaning against a stack of boxes marked EQUIPMENT wearing a serious frown.

"Close the door," he instructed me.

I reached my hand to grab onto the door when a familiar constriction flourished in my abdomen. "I'm not comfortable with that."

Mr. Brannigan quickly stepped forward and pushed the door shut, "Why? What do you have to fear? I'm the one who should be afraid of you. A little girl like you with a single false accusation could ruin my life, the same way you're trying to ruin my son's."

It felt like I had been kicked in the chest. "What?"

"Anthony is a good kid. The atrocity you're accusing him of committing is sickening. Do you know what kind of punishment you could face for falsely accusing someone of rape?"

"I'm not falsely accusing anyone. I'm telling the truth."

"Anthony told us it was you who led him to the bedroom, and it was you who was making advances. And now you regret it so now you want to call it rape. You are lying through your teeth like you have been since the moment you stepped into this class. You're a liar and a cheat."

I held up a shaking finger to him warningly and spoke as clearly as I could, "I am leaving and I will scream if you try to stop me." With tears pooling in my eyes, I reached behind me for the door handle, twisted it open, and quickly spun out of the room.

I ran through the hallways, choking down the urge to start sobbing and screaming. I found a secluded side-hallway and faced the lockers while I focused on calming down. I swung my book bag around my side to retrieve my cellphone. I sent Taylor a message:

We need to talk. Soon.

The bell rang and I anxiously glanced back and forth between each end of the dim hallway. My phone shook in my hand:

Taylor: How about after school?

I'll ask my parents, I responded. Thank you.

"I came as soon as I could," she panted, her hand held up to her face to fidget with the latch on her helmet strap. "My parents made me do all my chores before they let me leave."

"It's okay. How long of a bike ride was it?"

"About twenty minutes," She walked off the stoop again and put her hung her helmet on the handlebars.

"I'm sorry, I could have asked my mom to drive you."

"It's alright. So, what's going on? You said we needed to talk."

"Come with me," I led her inside the foyer and we started jogging up the stairs.

"Gabriella?" My mother approached the bottom step. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"

I turned around and said simply, "Mom, this is Taylor."

Taylor said, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Montez."

"Nice to meet you, too. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Thank you ma'am, but I don't believe I will be staying that late."

"Alright." She began walking back through the arch into the den. "It was nice meeting you, Taylor."

Taylor smiled and waved, then we continued to the second level where I took her to my room. I closed the door behind us and sat crisscross on my bed, and Taylor joined me.

She asked, "What happened during the counseling session?"

"The counselor in that day was Anthony's mom. She told me that I was mistaken and that Anthony wouldn't do such a thing."

Taylor remained silent, her mouth agape and her sympathetic eyes shining with concern.

"It gets worse. She must have told Mr. Brannigan because he confronted me after class. He said that Anthony told them that it was me who led him into the bedroom and initiated everything, like it was consensual. He then called me a liar and cheat."

Taylor stood from the bed and began pacing the floor next to it, wringing her hands on the back of her neck in distress. "How could they say that? How could a counselor share confidential details of a session? How could a teacher say that to a student?"

"How could someone rape?" I added on.

Taylor clutched at her heart as though she were trying to keep the shattered pieces intact. Her lips quivered and her large brown eyes began watering. "It isn't fair!" She yelled, bringing up her hand over her mouth as she started to cry.

I stood and approached her, laying my hand on her back. "I'm sorry," I said.

"No, I'm sorry Gabriella. You shouldn't be the one consoling me. We need to be figuring out what we can do about this injustice."

"There's nothing we can do about it, Taylor."

"Of course there is! We could take this higher up, to someone above the counselors."

"And do what? What would we gain by bringing the administration into it? It would just let more people know than the few who already do. I meant it when I said that I didn't want this getting out there. And even if I soldiered through it, it's just going to be my word against his. Anthony has his parents, members of the school, on his side. There's no hope."

"Even with all of that against you, you could at least try."

I sighed, "That's not a fight I'm willing to put up."

Taylor slowly nodded and softly said, "Okay." She then took her spot on the foot of my bed again, hunching her shoulders over in a downcast manner.

I sighed, realizing there was something more. "You're disappointed in me."

"I'm not disappointed in you, Gabriella."

"Then what's with the long face?"

"I don't know," she looked away from me, but I could still hear her voice crack.

"Taylor, what's wrong?"

She stood and began pacing the space between my window and my bed. "It's just so unfair," she vented. "I will respect whatever you choose, Gabriella. I will drop this if that's truly what you want. I just have to say that I wish you wouldn't. I want nothing more than to see you bury him in the truth."

Bury him in the truth, her words echoed in my head. Serving Anthony the justice he had coming was an appealing thought, but at what cost? I would be totally exposed. I'm already struggling accepting and living through what happened on my own, revealing the most mortifying event in my life would only pile embarrassment onto the problem. As much as I hated and feared coming forward, I hated what he did to me more.

Against every insecure and doubtful thought running through my mind, I said, "Okay."

Taylor snapped her head towards me.

"I will fight."


A/N: Thank you so much for reading! What do you think of Taylor's line, "I want nothing more than to see you bury him in the truth"?