I snort. “I’m not depressed.”
This summer, yeah, I absofuckinglutely was. The only good thing about depression is eventually you go numb and nothing matters anymore. I found that stage in August. After the overdose and the blood, when I realized the Harris family wasn’t gonna let me die. I needed to numb the pain to make things better for them.
But I feel again. Every time Rex touches me, I’m brought back to life. Is it wrong to rely on someone else to help me get better? Yes, but accepting help even when it’s unwanted and unexpected is better than wallowing. Mrs. Cherrybroom said that sooner or later, it would happen. Something would change, propelling me into recovery. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that something would be Rex, but I’m grateful for him. Even if I don’t know exactly what we are.
“Then why did you try to kill yourself? The only reason I could come up with was because I shot you down at the party last summer.”
My jaw drops. He can’t possibly be that narcissistic. Cooper’s always been full of himself. His ego is bigger than the moon, but he downplays it in public. And girls flock to him. Eating up the sweet boy-next-door persona he puts off. “Seriously? You think that was about you?”
“What else am I supposed to think? You kiss me. I have a minor freak out and then two weeks later I find you in a puddle of blood in my bathtub.”
“Jesus Christ, Cooper. I’m not getting into this with you.” Tears pool behind my lashes. I’m trying my hardest to hold them back but it’s a losing battle. This is too much. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing. Steady my thoughts, but it all comes back.
Gerald takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forces me to look at him. “You will watch. You will scream. And you will remember that I own you.”
He unzips himself and fumbles with the button on his jeans. I’ve pulled so much, the knot around my wrists finally loosens. This is my chance. A split second is all I have to try and get away, and I’m gonna take it. I yank my right arm as hard as I can and my wrists slip from between the fabric around them.
Gerald doesn’t notice, his mind’s too fucked up, too focused on the button that won’t let go of his pants.
I reach for my bedside table. Somewhere there’s a pair of scissors beside my journal. I stretch, trying to be as discreet as possible.
Just a little closer…
Gerald’s button gives. He pulls himself out of his pants, his eyes back on me. “What do you think you’re doing.”
I panic and grab the only thing I can reach. A ball-point pen. With every bit of strength I have I stab him in the neck. My screams are muffled by sobs as I pull the pen out and stab him again. And again. Over and over again until we’re both covered in blood.
Gerald falls onto me, groaning. I push his limp, but not lifeless body on the floor and run. I don’t think about the blood on my hands or the fact that my shirt is ripped open, exposing my breasts. And I don’t think about where I’m going until my hand beats against the cherry wood door, staining it with fist-prints.
Bane cracks the door open, the end of a pistol greeting me. I should have expected it. In this neighborhood, anyone beating on your door at three in the morning is asking for trouble. I don’t flinch, or cry, or scream.
I’m numb. Shaking from the fleeting adrenaline.
Bane pulls the door open and tugs me inside, slamming it shut behind him. His eyes trail over my body, worry etched on his face. “Jesus, Piper.”
He leaves me in the entryway. I don't know how long he’s gone. A minute? An hour? A day? Time is stuck, forcing me to stay in the room I just escaped from. Gerald’s voice plays in my mind on a loop. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to chase the sounds away but am met with his face.
A hand touches my arm. I open my eyes, yanking the trembling limb from Bane’s grasp. “It’s okay,” he assures. “You’re safe now.”
I suck in a staggering breath and open my eyes. Salty, wet, pain runs down my cheeks. I turn to leave, but Cooper grabs my arm. As if having the worst day of my life flood my conscious thoughts wasn’t enough, my body chooses this moment to remember what a panic attack is. My heart hammers in my chest.
One Mississippi.
“Yes, you are.” Cooper reels.
I am what? I barely remember what we’re talking about. My brain’s lost in a fog of memories and pain.
“You’ve shut me out for almost a year,” Cooper continues, “and now you’re acting out. I don’t want to find you dead somewhere because I almost missed the signs again.”
Two Mississippi.
I snatch my arm out of his hand and take three breaths. One to steady my heart. One to clear my head. And one to try and control the fire simmering inside me. Using the calmest, most monotone voice I can muster, I say, “There are no signs Cooper. I’m fine.”
“You’re far from fine. You had another panic attack just now because I touched you. I can’t even hug you anymore without your body freaking out, but Rex can.” There’s pain in his eyes. I almost feel bad, but he’s forcing me to talk about things he’s not ready to deal with. “Why is that?”
“You want to know why Cooper?” That’s it. He’s pushed me to the edge. I shouldn’t lay it all on the line, I’m too emotional but I don’t care anymore. Everything was bound to come out sooner or later. Might as well be today. “Because you’re a before. Me wanting to die had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with how Gerald broke into my room the night of that party, after I stumbled home with a bruised ego, and how he forced himself me.”
“Fuck, Piper. I...” Cooper looks around, as if the words he’s searching for will magically appear on the walls. “Did he...you know?”