“I didn’t think you’d ever lie to me, not like this. Not straight to my face.”
Her eyes go wide, they’re bloodshot and look so sore. “You don’t…” she stops, shaking her head. “You don’t understand.”
“Help me understand. I want to understand,” I say, turning to face her fully.
“I can’t, it hurts too much.” Tanika reaches for her chest and holds it, clings to it tightly, like it might break right in front of me.
“Then tell me why you’re hanging out with those bikers. Tell me, Tan?”
Her eyes look up to me. “They help me escape, and they don’t judge me.”
“I wouldn’t judge you if you just told me.”
She shakes her head again. “You don’t understand,” she repeats.
I pull my hand back from her and stand from the couch. I start pacing in front of her, but she doesn’t even move.
“Do you owe them something?” I ask, trying to guess at what, I don’t even know.
“No.”
“Okay, does your family?”
“No,” she answers, then stops breathing, holding her breath, then she pushes one out.
“I was assaulted, Rochelle, and they help me forget.”
I pause.
Look to her and see her gripping at her wrists.
“What?” I ask, confused, and sit back down next to her. Pulling her to me, I hug her hard while she cries into my hair.
I hold her. I hold her for as long as she needs to be held until she realizes she’s safe and she can let go.
When she does, she looks up at me.
“You don’t have to tell me everything if it hurts you too much to say the words.”
“I was out… it was the night after I met Blaze. I like him. If you got to know him, you would see he’s good, despite his gruff exterior,” she says, offering me a shy smile.
“I’m sure he is.”
Tanika laughs. “He doesn’t like you. He thinks you aren’t a good friend.”
“Blaze knows what happened?” I ask, not even answering that friend part. I know I haven’t been a great friend over the last month. I’ve been shit, actually. But she still could have come to me. Regardless, I would have been there for her. If I’d have known.
“He didn’t. Well, not until after that day in the lake.” Tanika shrugs. “He suspected, but I never confirmed it. I guess I did that night.”
“Are you comfortable to tell me what happened?”
“I was out. You were…” she pauses, “… well, you were grieving, and I went out with some new friends. I ended up leaving them early.” She hiccups, wiping the snot from her face with the back of her hand. “I don’t remember it all. He came up from behind, pushed me to the ground and started tearing at my clothes. He got my pants down and I could feel him…” she visibly shudders. “I could feel him… down there. And, somehow, I managed to push away, and when I did, I just ran. I ran so hard and fast that I went straight home. When I got there, my feet were bleeding and I had no clothes on down below.” Tanika’s visibly shaking now, tears streaming down her face, probably matching mine.
I reach for her and she comes over, lays her head on me and cries. She cries for what happened to her, and cries for a loss I didn’t even know she had lost. I hold her. I hold her all day and night, and we don’t talk again until the next day.
“You need to go to the police,” I tell her.
“I did,” she says, reaching for the water I put in front of her. Tanika takes a sip and looks up at me. “They told me they would ‘look into it.’”
“We can go back.”
She visibly flinches at my words. “No, Blaze said he would handle it.”
“You don’t want to be involved with how they… a biker gang… will handle it,” I say, thinking of all the things I’ve read about them.
“You don’t know them. I was hoping you would see the good in them, but you don’t do you?” she asks, pushing up from the seat.
“You’ve been doing drugs with them, Tanika.” My hands go up in the air, incredulous. Anger radiates from me. How can she not see that they’re not good for her?
Walking over to the sink, she places her drink in it. “It’s my escape, okay? I need to escape. You don’t understand.”
I stand and walk to her, stopping her from going anywhere. “No, I don’t understand, having never been through this. But I will be here for you. Drugs are never a good escape. Tell me you get that, Tanika. Tell me you understand,” I say, on the verge of shaking her, but also with a tear falling down my cheek at the anguish and pain I am feeling for her.
She pushes past me, not caring, and reaches for her shoes that are on the floor. When she speaks, she doesn’t look back at me, “I can’t. I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll call you,” she says, heading outside. I hear a motorcycle, and when I look out to where she’s gone, Tanika’s placing on a helmet.