Wicked Devil: Chapter 27

I wake with a start. My chest heaves and my eyes pop open. Daylight filters in through my bedroom curtains, letting me know it’s morning. Or maybe afternoon. It doesn’t matter.

I stare up at the ceiling, willing myself to go back to sleep. I don’t want to be awake. It hurts too much.

There’s a knock at my door.

I ignore it.

Another knock.

I roll to my side just as the door opens. “Allie,” Janessa calls.

I squeeze my eyes shut hoping she’ll think I’m asleep and leave me alone.

She doesn’t.

I hear her steps fall across the carpet as she comes closer. My bed dips under her weight as she sits on the corner. I stiffen when she reaches out and touches my leg. “Allie, you need to eat something. Why don’t you come downstairs? Your father ordered breakfast. It’ll be good for you to get out of bed.”

I say nothing.

She tries another tactic. “Some friends of yours from school have stopped by.”

They have? A part of me wants to know who. Wants to know if it was Roman. If he’s still angry with me? He hasn’t messaged me since that night and I miss him but … every time a man has come close to me I’ve panicked. Gerald tried speaking to me once. I freaked out. I curled into a ball like a child and sobbed. I still don’t know why. It just happened and I couldn’t stop it.

He hired a doctor to come look at me. That didn’t go well either. For the past three days the only person that I’ve allowed in my room has been Janessa. I don’t like it when she’s close, and I really don’t like it when she touches me, but at least her presence doesn’t send me into a mindless panic. It’s enough.

So, while I might want to see Roman, I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want to risk losing myself again. With him. But curiosity burns through me so I open my eyes and ask, “Who?”

She shifts her weight. “A few boys. Two Latinos and a black guy. They said they were your friends?”

I nod.

“What did you tell them?”

“That you weren’t seeing visitors right now.”

I swallow. “Anything else?”

She’s quiet for a moment and I hold my breath. “I didn’t tell them what happened but … one of the boys got angry when I refused to let him in. He started shouting. I might have yelled at him. Told him you didn’t want to see anyone. Even him.” She grips my leg in apology. “He didn’t seem happy. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just didn’t know how else to make him leave.”

I blink back the moisture in my eyes. “It’s okay.”

She sighs and stands to leave. “Will you at least think about coming down to eat?”

I nod, knowing I won’t. I haven’t left my bed since that night to do anything more than use the bathroom or shower. Something I’ve been doing at least three times a day. Sometimes more. I can’t seem to get the feel of his hands off of me. The smell of his skin.

Janessa starts to say something else but I can’t listen to her anymore. I’m losing myself to my memories. I want her to go away. I need to go back to sleep. It’s the only place I feel safe anymore. Childishly I cover my ears. “Please,” I whisper. “Go away.”

Time passes from one day to the next, even when it feels impossible. Even when it seems like I’m losing myself with each passing hour. Each passing minute. I don’t understand how the sun manages to rise each day when I can barely open my eyes to greet it.

I lose count of how many days go by.

Some days Janessa comes to try and get me to come downstairs. Some days she doesn’t. I manage to drink the bottled water she brings me. On occasion the tea. But I rarely touch the food. The few times I’ve tried have resulted in me bent over my toilet heaving whatever I consumed right back out. My body doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore. I know this isn’t normal. I know I need help. But I can’t find the energy or want to ask for it. I’m numb and I’m afraid to be anything else but numb.

Roman doesn’t message me. Neither does Emilio. Dominique reached out once asking me if something happened. If I was okay. But I didn’t respond. What could I say?

I wake to the sound of heated voices in the hallway outside my bedroom door. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I try and muster interest in what they’re saying. I stare at the closed door, pulling my covers tighter around myself as if that’s enough to keep me warm. But it’s not. All I feel is a bone-aching chill. It never leaves.

“She needs more time.”

“She doesn’t need time. There’s nothing wrong with her and she’s done nothing but sleep. It’s been nearly a week—”

“What else would you have her do? The girl is traumatized.”

“She needs to get over it.”

I don’t hear what they say next. I look at the clock on my bedside table. It’s just after seven in the morning.

I take a deep breath.

I’m okay.

I will get through this.

You’re strong, Allie. You’re strong like Mom.

I take another deep, shuddering breath and force back a fresh wave of tears. Why am I crying?

“You’re strong like Mom,” I whisper to myself. I wipe my tears away and make myself get out of bed. I’m numb. I can be numb and move. I can be numb and do things. Go places. Right? Maybe.

Mom died. My boyfriend cheated. My boyfriend dumped me. My best girlfriend turned her back on me. I lost my home. I had to go to a new school in a new town. My dad never has time for me. I was ra…

I force myself to finish the thought.

I was raped.

I’d been through so much in such a short amount of time. But it was done. Over. Finished. All of it had already happened. I’d push forward. One day at a time, Allie. You can do this.

Numb. So fucking numb.

Janessa’s voice rises again. There’s mention of a therapist.

I don’t know what Gerald says in response but I can tell by Janessa’s tone that she doesn’t agree.

That’s okay.

I’m okay.

Or at least, I will be. Time heals all wounds, right? That’s what all the inspirational quotes and memes on social media say.

The day I arrived in Sun Valley I told myself all I needed to do was survive this year, graduate, and then I could go home.

That is still the plan. I can go home. Things will be better once I’m back in Richland. There won’t be a school full of people who hate me. There won’t be bad men lurking around corners, hurting me to get to my dad. I will be safe. I just have to survive here a little bit longer.

Letting that resolve settle inside of me, I shower. The hot water scalds my skin, but it’s still not enough to warm the bone-deep chill. I scrub at my arms and legs, wishing I could clean myself, but I’ve already learned it doesn’t matter how many times I wash my body, I still feel dirty. I can’t get the smell or feel of him off me.

I spend thirty minutes in the shower before giving up and drying off. I put on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved purple top, careful to cover every inch of skin I can reasonably manage and add a silk scarf to cover the bruising on my neck for good measure.

Leaving my hair down, I blow it dry and add a heavy layer of concealer along my jaw, my right cheek, and beneath my bottom lip. It’s not enough, so I add a layer of foundation on top and then another layer of concealer on top of that. It covers the bruises but I can’t do much to conceal the swelling. With some lip liner and gloss, it should be less noticeable. I hope.

Even with a full face of makeup, my skin is still a little discolored but if I keep my head down like I usually do I should be fine. No one will give me a second glance.

There’s a knock on my door and before I can answer, it swings open.

Janessa walks in to find me sitting on the floor in front of the full-length mirror in my room.

“You’re ready?” she asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah.” I stand and reach for my backpack. My eyes lock on my hands and I freeze, staring at them as though for the first time. My knuckles are bruised. My nail beds torn and cracked with dried blood.

Makeup can’t cover that. I frown. I’ll have to keep my hands in my pockets if I want to avoid any questions. Dread wells up inside of me. I can’t handle any questions.

I grab a zip-up hoodie from my closet. One of the pieces I picked up with Aaron during our Target run.

Janessa frowns when she sees the black garment and then steps over to my closet. She flicks through the clothes hanging there and pulls out a soft white sweater with pale pink sleeves.

Turning, she hands it to me, gently taking the hoodie and placing it back inside my closet. “This goes with what you’re wearing,” she tells me.

I want to scream.

But I don’t.

Screaming doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help. I know that, so I nod and slip my arms into the sweater, feeling another piece of myself die inside. Why does the sweater matter so much?

When we step outside to head to school, an unfamiliar car sits in the driveway.

Dominique stands there, leaning against the hood of his black Escalade, arms folded over his chest.

I freeze.

“Allie,” he calls out and tilts his head back to his car. “I’m giving you a lift. Come on.”

My heart rate picks up and my eyes turn to Janessa, pleading with her to say something. Anything.

I can’t go with him. My breathing becomes erratic. I can’t.

Understanding washes over her face. She gives me a barely perceptible nod and turns to him. “I’m sorry, young man, but you need to leave.”

Dom smirks. “I’ll get right on that. As soon as Allie gets in the car.” He flashes her a dazzling smile. “I’m a friend from school. I’ve given her rides before. She’s plenty safe with me, ma’am.”

Janessa flicks a look to me as if to ask, what now?

But how the heck should I know. I have no idea what to do in this situation. I wasn’t prepared to face him. I had an entire pep talk ready to give myself on the drive to school today. Before I saw him. Before I saw anyone. My hands are clammy and a cold sweat drips down my spine.

My heart hammers in my chest. Faster. Harder. My breaths quicken and I know a panic attack lingers right there on the edge. I can’t let him see me like this. My temples pound, a headache now coming on strong, beating inside me like a battering ram.

“Allie?” she whispers.

I can’t. I can’t.

I know Dom is safe. He’s my friend. He’s safe. I know that. But the idea of being in a car with him right now is sending my mind into a spiral. I can’t.

I turn and rush back inside the house, ignoring both of them as they call out for me.

I can’t.

I’m not ready.

I just can’t.