But I don’t see how it can.
I slide out of my seat and crush Maria into a hug, hiding my face over her shoulder. It’s one thing lying to one of your best friends. But to have to look her in the eyes as I do… it breaks my heart even more. I’m surprised it’s still working, the hammering it’s taken since the election night party.
Maria’s arms tighten around my back, and she squeezes me. “Why don’t you go down and see if Reed’s back yet? Talk to him about the move. Griffin and I can manage the feeds tonight. And you can come back in the morning to see Rosie before the person from the sanctuary comes to collect her.”
“Okay.” I sniff, barely holding it together. “See you in the morning.”
I know she can sense that so much is wrong. And I wish I could share it with her. I wish I could ask for her advice, or even just sob on her shoulder at the unfairness of it all.
But I can’t.
It isn’t my secret to share.
I gather up my purse and tell Maria I’ll collect my things in the morning. Then I decide to take the stairwell down a level instead of riding the elevator. My footsteps echo off the empty walls as I descend to mine and Reed’s apartment.
Mine and Reed’s.
Nothing will ever be mine and his again. It can’t be. Not now.
I stop on the final step and give in to the pressure rising in my chest as I break out into gasping, wracking sobs. My back hits the cold hard wall and I slide down it until my ass lands on the step. I curl my feet underneath me and cry. Cry for me. Cry for Reed. Cry for ten years ago and what he went through.
And I cry for what I must do now.
I take my phone out of my purse and bring up the video I was sent the night of the election from an unknown number. It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to watch it since that night. Just the thought of what it contains has had me running to the bathroom in Maria and Griffin’s apartment to throw up so many times they would probably think I was pregnant if they’d seen me.
I click play and watch as the grainy image begins to move. It’s a poor picture. Like it’s been filmed on an old camera. The angle makes me think it must have been positioned on a table or desk near the foot of the bed.Hidden?
There’s no sound. And I’m grateful for that, at least. It would make it even harder to witness.
Blonde hair appears first. She walks into the hotel room and then stops, looking back over her shoulder, appearing to be speaking to someone. Then she moves out of frame and returns, her hand in someone else’s, pulling them along, almost playfully. But the way he sways on his feet and staggers to the side tells me he is either extremely drunk.
Or drugged.
She strokes the side of his face, brushing warm brown waves of hair away from his eyes. Then she begins to undo his shirt. His hands go up to hers and he holds them still, but she bats him off and laughs before carrying on.
She takes his shirt off, and then her hands are all over him. Touching his biceps, his shoulders, his chest. He stands there, swaying, not reciprocating her attention at all. He looks like he could pass out on the floor any second.
Then she leads him toward the bed and pushes him back. He falls onto it with all the grace of a tower block crumbling after demolition.
Out cold.
Then she climbs over the top of him.
I pause the video as I retch. Swallowing down hot cocoa laced with vomit. The video still has more to play. The menu bar isn’t even a quarter of the way along. But I can’t watch it any further. This is as far as I got the night of the election. I know what’s on there. I don’t need to see it.
Reed said there was no evidence. That the police couldn’t help him when he reported it. Griffin and Riley couldn’t find anything to help uncover what had happened to him. But they were wrong. For whatever reason, it was so well hidden that no one found it. No one ever saw it.
Until now.
Now I have a video of Reed’s assault from ten years ago sitting on my phone. Burning a hole in it. And searing a giant wound into my chest at the same time.
To start with, I couldn’t understand why I was sent it. Or by who. The message gave nothing away. And I spent the first night when we got home after the election lying in Reed’s arms in bed pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t worry. But the truth is, I never slept that night.
Maybe I will never truly sleep well again.
There was no explanation with the video.
Nothing.