My mom was sobbing in front of me. She was kneeling, her face almost touching her knees, sobbing. I knew it was my fault. Dad wasn’t home yet, my older sister was still out on her date and my younger sister was sleeping over at her friend‘s house.. Mom had fallen to pieces in front of me and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to switch places with her. I wanted to be the one sobbing, curled up, or simply reacting. Yet my mother was the one crying. One look at me and she was in tears.

“How could this have happened? Why didn’t I see this coming?” she cried, her voice cracking. I knelt down next to her and put my arm around her.

“It’s not your fault,” I said, “Please don’t blame yourself.” She looked at me, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“How can you say that? You are my little girl. I was to protect you,” suddenly she stood up. I knew her mother bear instinct was taking over, “We’ll calling the Police. He’s not going to get away with it.” She turned to go to the kitchen but I grabbed her arm.

“No,” I said. I knew it was pointless. Nothing good would come out of it. I had already tried to get help before and nothing good came out of it. My whole world had changed because of him and I didn’t want to give him any more power. Besides this was the last time. He said so. He saw what he had done to me, he saw how it effected me, he promised it was the last time. We would stay away from each other. We were bad for each other, constantly setting each other off. I couldn’t describe our relationship but whatever we had I knew it was over. I promised myself as I walked into the house.

“He raped you!” my mother screamed, irrational, “You think that he should get away with it? That he shouldn’t be punished!” Fire was in her eyes, she needed to get retribution for this. She needed to do something.

“It’s me versus him,” I replied. I wondered why I even told my mother? Maybe because this was the last time, I needed to get it off my chest. Maybe because I had lost everyone else. I suddenly felt exhausted. The mere thought of doing anything except sleeping seemed impossible at that moment, “No one is going to believe me. He was my boyfriend. All he has to say is that it was consensual,” I paused, “I’m going to bed.” I turned my back on my mother and headed to my room. She didn’t follow me. Maybe she would try again in the morning to get me to report the whole thing. Or maybe she would drop it. Maybe she would be relieved that I didn’t want to press charges against him. Then she wouldn’t have to hear the whole story. Then she wouldn’t have to face the fact it was in front of her the entire time and she didn’t see it. Then she wouldn’t have to face the fact that she so willingly bought every lie I ever told her. As I shut my door, I could hear her cry again. I took off my clothing, knowing it would be the last time I ever wore those again. I stripped completely naked and paused for a second in front of my mirror. I had changed so much in the past year. I used to be happy. I used to be a bit on the plump side, but no one, unless they felt mean, would call me fat. I was thin now, almost too thin. My reddish brown hair used to be kept short, framing my face, bringing out my sparking blue eyes, now it was limp and long, hiding my face. I looked at my body, thinking about all the bruises I had had and all the ways I would cover them up. The bruises on my biceps from when he would grab my arms. I hardly ever wore short sleeves or sleeveless shirts anymore.

I turned away from the mirror, unable to look anymore. I crawled into my bed. As I turned off the lights, I hear the front door open and my dad, sounding panicked, asking mom what had happened. I fell into a deep sleep, knowing that I would probably have to face it again in the morning.

~

I woke up with the sun streaming through the window. I had slept a dreamless sleep. I, moving as silently as possible, went to my backpack and checked my cell phone. An old habit I knew I would need to learn to break. I had one text message. My heart began to pound as I hit open, “I am so sorry. Call me later?” My phone silently beeped again. Another message, “I love you. We need to talk.” I tossed my phone on my bed. I would have to deal with that later. I wanted a shower. After covering myself with my robe, I grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. I liked to fill the bathroom with steam before I had my shower. My whole family knew that. Dad always told me what a waste of water it was and told me to stop. I never listened. I shouldn’t have been surprised when the door burst open as soon as I turned on the water. Luckily, I hadn’t taken off my robe yet. Dad turned off the water.

“Don’t you dare shower! We are going to the police station right now!” he said. Mom had told him. I couldn’t understand why I was so surprised at that. Why wouldn’t she? My hope that she would push it all aside was silly. I shook my head.

“No,” I said, “Besides I showered last night before I came home.” It was true. After he was done and he realised what happened, he took me to the shower. I remember feeling so numb as he washed me clean. He seemed to caring, so loving with his touches but we both knew we were washing away any evidence. Besides it wasn’t like we needed his DNA in me to prove that he had sex with me. It wasn’t our first time. All he had to do was say that he was consensual and point out the fact we had been doing it for months.

Dad stared at me. He seemed to come down from his blustering rage when he came in. He pulled me into his arms and I heard him say, “My poor little girl.” I felt numb. This was the first time in months he had even paid attention to his family. He was busy with Little Miss Breasts at his office. I had seen it myself. Mom was in the dark, I thought, and he convinced me not to let mom or dad know I knew. Dad would come clean sooner or later. I wondered if he blamed his affair for this. Had he been home more would have he seen through the lies?

“Come on, baby girl, we need to get you to the police station,” he said. I pulled away from him.

“No,” I said again. I didn’t want to go to the police. I didn’t want to tell someone I didn’t even knew everything. I didn’t want to get him in trouble. I didn’t want to voice that last thought. It was over. As soon as I was alone, I would delete those messages on my phone. I wasn’t going to respond. I had said that when he dropped me off last night. He took my hand and pulled me in for a kiss. He agreed with me. Our relationship was too volatile. He told me that he loved me but it was probably best we remained apart. We promised each other that maybe one day in the future we would try again. We knew our love was real. It was intense. The times we were apart left us aching but those other parts, those parts that had changed him and me were too much. This was for the best. So there was no point to go to the police.

“Samantha, please,” my mom was at the doorway. She looked as if she aged ten years over night. Her eyes glistered with tears. I hoped she wouldn’t start crying again.

“No,” I said again, “I’m not going to go,” I glared at both of my parents, “Please, I just want to get on with my life. Let me shower and I’ll be down for breakfast shortly.” Dad looked at my mother and he lead her out of the kitchen. I showered, feeling nothing. Normally, showering was my favourite activities of the day. I got alone time and some time to think. I didn’t always enjoy my thoughts but I was allowed to think without cause.

I dreaded going down for breakfast. My older sister, Shelly, would be there. Shelly was the perfect daughter. My parents loved her. She was a year older than me and a freshman at the local university. She received top grades and had gotten a scholarship for the university of her choice. She wanted to be a doctor, specializing in child care. She had tons a friends and a steady boyfriend. Despite the fact we were close in age, we were never close. Shelly always seemed too busy for me. She had always had her own life away from me. Shawna was my younger sister. She was fifteen and was a sophomore in high school. She was a little nerdy but had a tight group of friends. She was always doing something with them. Whenever I was with my sisters, I always felt out of place. Their lives seemed to be so effortless and happy. I felt the odd bad of the family. I didn’t want to face them now. I knew they would both look at me differently. They wouldn’t understand.

Shawna wasn’t there for breakfast. She was probably still at her friends. She may not even be home for hours. I could hear Shelly talking to my parents as I came down the stairs.

“She may have gotten pregnant. Did she tell you if he used a condom? I doubt he did. In assaults like this, the aggressor rarely thinks ahead. She should also be tested for STDS. She would also need to see if he caused any trauma to her-” Shelly broke off when she saw me standing at the doorway. I immediately felt ill. Wasn’t mom and dad enough? Why did Shelly have to act like she knew everything? She looked at me sympathetically, “You know, Samantha, you really should go to a doctor.” I sat down at the table.

“I heard,” I replied, grabbing the cartoon of orange juice. It was all I feel like stomaching. How many mornings had I come down for breakfast, only to drink juice instead? How many meals had I missed because my stomach was in knots? I spent so much time worrying, wondering what he would think or react. Like the time I entered that short story contest and won. I had forgotten to tell him I had entered. It should have been cause to celebrate, instead he slammed me against the wall, furious that I was hiding things from him, that I was lying to him, that I wanted to leave him. Why hadn’t I told him? Didn’t I want to share my happiness with him? Didn’t I love him? Hadn’t he helped me with my writing before, showing me where to improve? Did I think I was too good for him now?

I put down my orange juice. It was over. I wondered how many more times he had text messaged me? Would he be upset if I didn’t respond? I stood up. I didn’t want to sit with my family. Dad had other plans.

“We need to talk about this, Samantha,” he said, “You can’t expect us to listen to what happened and not do anything. We have to take action. Your mother is looking into getting a counsellor for you. Maybe someone with a professional point of view can convince you to go to the police.” I felt like screaming. Why wasn’t anyone listening to me? I didn’t want to go to the police. I didn’t want to! I didn’t want to!

“God!” I cried, “I don’t even know why I told you!” Dad stood up and glared at me.

“We are your family and we are here to help you!” his voice boomed.

“I don’t want help! I just want to move on! Why do you think reliving it will help me? Haven’t I suffered enough?” I knew it was a low blow but I was desperate. I turned away but dad grabbed my arm, preventing me from leaving. How many times had he done that in the past? I had popped by his place for a quick visit after school, with the intention to leave to do something, like homework. He would grab my arm, and pull me back. He would beg me not to leave, that we could do our work together. I didn’t really want to. I knew we would just end up fooling around. He was always telling me how irresistible I was. I would go home hours later, with my homework undone. It wouldn’t be until the next morning when I would see the bruises on my arms.

Dad immediately let go of my arm when he saw my face. I ran upstairs and slammed the door behind me. I grabbed my cell phone.

“Sam, why are you ignoring me?”

“Sam, I told you I was sorry. Please respond.”

“Sam, stop being a bitch. Call me. Now.”

“I get it. You have already gone to someone else. Slut.”

“Call me.”

“You left your notebook here. Please call so I can give it back.”

“I am sorry about before. Please don’t leave me.”

There were at least fourteen messages on my phone. Each felt like a blow to the stomach. He would always accuse me of being with someone else if I didn’t respond to his calls right away. That was one reason why I stopped hanging out with some of my friends. He always thought the wrong thing was happening between us. He would tell me if I really loved him I would stop hanging out with them, that my friendships were unnatural, asking me how I would like it if he got that close with some of his friends of the opposite sex? My girlfriends didn’t seem to understand why I would start refusing to hang out with our male friends. They said he was too jealous. Soon it became easier not to hang out with them at all. I quickly typed him a message: GO AWAY. I turned off my cell phone and threw it into my closet. I told myself to get a new phone number. I looked at my computer. I told myself to get a new email address and stop checking the old one.

I laid down on my bed. I could hear my parents arguing downstairs. I knew what they were saying. What would they do about their poor Samantha? They would soon begin to argue about whose fault it was. I knew by lunchtime dad would have left the house. He would probably go to Little Miss Breasts and get some action with her. He would be able to leave his family for a while. Put the pause button on this family. I wondered when he started to see Little Miss Breasts. I wondered what the reasons were. Maybe the high expectation of perfection my sisters put on this family was too much for dad. Maybe he couldn’t take the pressure. I couldn’t.

I wondered what Shelly would do now. Mom had probably made her promise not to talk to her friends about this. I wondered if Shelly received some sort of twisted pleasure from knowing her sister was such a screw up, that if for whatever reason she failed at something, she could say, “well, my sister was abused.” After all, I knew, Shelly would blame this whole thing on me. Just like he did. If I hadn’t come to his place looking so sexy, suggesting things then he would have never had done it. He had whispered in my ear while we showered, that this was what I had asked for anyway. I wondered if I did deserve it. I had been teasing him. I did want to make out some but I wasn’t in the mood to go all the way. I hadn’t been for a while. He called me a tease a lot lately and a cold blooded bitch. That seemed to be his newest nickname for me: bitch. He used to come up with the best pet names.

I was beginning to feel crazy. I wanted to get out of the house. Normally when I felt like this I would call him up. He would drive over and pick me up. We’d go back to his place. Now who would I call? I wondered if Alexia would talk to me again. Alexia and I were best friends. We had been since grade five when we both decided that putting worms in all the boys’ desks would be funny. We had our first detention together. Alexia came from a huge Greek family. They always made me feel welcomed. When I started to go out with him, she thought he took too much of my time and she never seemed to believe my lies. Like the typical lie about my black eye. I told her that I had hit the corner of my bookshelf one day. That always made more sense than hitting a doorknob. She didn’t believe me. Alexia even went up to him one day and accused him of beating me. I remembered feeling so horrified. How could she do that to me? How would he react? Afterwards he was furious, saying that all he did to show me that he loved me and I was gossiping about him, hanging our dirty laundry out for everyone to see. He said I was an ungrateful bitch that should be put down. I told him I never said anything and it took a lot of convincing before he believed me. After that I stopped talking to Alexia altogether. I figured it was best that way. Besides, if she couldn’t believe me or respect my decisions, I didn’t want her as a friend.

I wondered if she would see me now. Would she even talk to me? I had to leave the house. I went downstairs. I didn’t see dad anywhere. Mom was cleaning the kitchen. I grabbed my shoes.

“Where do you think you are going?” she demanded.

“Alexia’s,” I replied. Mom paused. She clearly didn’t want me to go off on my own. What if I returned to him? So she called Shelly and asked her to drive me. Needless to say it was uncomfortable car ride. Shelly would try to talk to me but I wouldn’t answer. When we pulled up to Alexia’s house, Shelly took my hand.

“Sam, please don’t push this away. You need to listen to mom and dad,” I looked at my sister. I felt warm from how sincere Shelly seemed.

“You don’t understand,” I replied, and shut the car door behind me. I knew Shelly would stay until I stepped into the house. I rang the door bell. It was Saturday. Who knew if Alexia was even home? Her mother, Mrs. Dyonysius, answered the door.

“Samantha!” she exclaimed, “How are you dear? I haven’t seen you in some time!” I loved Mrs. Dyonysius. She was always so warm and welcoming. I knew she would always be there for her kids but she also knew when to leave them alone. I forced a smile.

“I’m okay,” I said, “Would Alexia be around?” Mrs. Dyonysius ushered me into their house. I knew at this point Shelly would drive off.

“Yup, she’s in her room,” Mrs. Dyonysius smiled again, “Why don’t you go up and surprise her?” I thanked her and headed up to the third floor. The Dyonysius’s house was huge. Alexia’s parents both had high paying jobs and since there were so many kids they wanted a house with enough rooms for each of the kids. I used to wish I was a part of the Dyonysius family. I wondered what they would think of me now.

I knocked on Alexia’s door. I missed her room. She was always redecorating it. Alexia could never stay with a design for long. Alexia opened the door. She was still in her pjs, her hair brush in her hand. She looked shocked to see me.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” she asked. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. What was I doing here? Maybe I should just leave. Alexia pulled me in and shut the door behind her. Her room had a rock star theme. She had painted the walls black, with white edging. Posters of her favourite bands plastered the walls, making the room seem not so dark. She had talked about doing this for ages.

“Sam? What happened? What did he do this time?” she asked. Anger washed over me.

“Why does everyone assume he did something wrong?” I cried, “Maybe it was me! Maybe it was all my fault! All of it! I made my mother cry! I made him do those things! If I was a different person, he wouldn’t have done it! I just bring out the worse of him! I bring out the worse of everything around me! I’m a poison. A terrible poison.” I was crying now. Alexia held me close.

“I know you don’t believe that,” she said. She was always so sure of herself. We stayed silent for a few minutes; the only sound was me crying.

“We broke up,” I finally said, “We had to. It was just too much. I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be with him because of everything. Our relationship was just too wrong. After last night, I couldn’t return to his arms. Alexis, he keeps messaging me. I don’t want him out of my life because I love him so much but he is just so bad. Alexis… Alexis, James raped me.” James. The first time since I had come home last night I had said his name, thought his name. I began to cry again. I loved his name. I loved saying his name. I loved linking our names together. Now I was afraid to ever speak his name. Alexis didn’t say anything. She held me tight. She was crying too. We were crying together.

Finally Alexis pulled herself together. She allowed me to continue resting on her shoulder, “Sam,” she started, “Have you told your parents?” I nodded.

“They want to go to the police. I cannot do that to him. He didn’t mean to. He just gets carried away. It’s just how he is,” I said.

“It was still wrong. Sam, I know you don’t need anyone to preach at you. I know you are probably just a confused ball of emotion but you can’t do this alone. I cannot help you in the way you need. Nor can your parents. As much as I hate to say it, your parents’ are right. He may not have meant to hurt you. He probably never does but he has. He has abused you. He has raped you. Can you honestly let him get away with it?” I began to cry harder. I knew she was right. If it was Alexis who had come to me saying this, I would drag her to the police myself. Suddenly the Alexia’s cell phone rang. I jumped. Was it possible he had tracked me here? Why wasn’t he letting up? Alexia ignored the ringing phone.

“Sam, I’ll take you if you want. We can go right now. I’ll be with you all the way. I won’t leave you alone for a moment. I’ll be with you, okay?” I found myself nodding. Alexia hugged me and told me she was going to get dressed. She grabbed a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. We never used to be afraid to change in front of each other. When I began to lose weight, we used to share clothing. It was around then I stopped changing in front of her. I didn’t want her to see the bruises. Alexia changed in front of me today. It was almost like nothing changed except for the fact everything had.

She took my hand and led me to her car. We didn’t say a word to her mother. I didn’t call my parents to tell them where I was going or what I’d be doing. Before I knew it, we were at the police station.