Love Me | Series Book #1

FORTY FIVE

I told them.

Without realizing, I confessed, and the revelation came after a second that felt like eternity.

"Did he hurt you?"

My mother spoke first. So loudly, the sheriff who was halfway out the door,  back-tracked.

"Yes," my truth erupted, for the very first time. "Mason hurt me, Mom."

A glance darted between me, then my father. The mask that held up my mother's face, finally cracked as she inhaled my words, as though it had escaped out of me out in one breath, and overpowered her. A sob, got caught in her chest, a raw one...that couldn't be concealed with any futile attempt to smooth its edges.

And all at once, I could breathe. As though my breath had returned back to me, after a lifetime bound in the middle of my throat.

And it hurt, witnessing my pain tear into my mother. It was too little too late...and yet I couldn't be angry.

I didn't have a place for it anymore. I could no longer conceal it beneath the pain, which sat one layer beneath the wound. Always festering, awaiting a perfect moment to surface, that didn't exist. Just like there was no time or place for me to cram the words "my boyfriend hit me" into our daily routine. It didn't have a place on our refrigerator agenda, between the email follow-up reminders, and practice schedule post-its.

My truth didn't have a place to reside in this house, until now. Right in the middle of the living room.

It was my story to tell. Not Rachel's, or even Mrs. Peterson, though they did help me in my journey to unearth it. But, no one else could face my parents, look them in the eye, and unmask the monster that had made its way into our home, but myself. I could no longer wait, hoping someone else might see, or open their mouth to save me.

No one else had keys to this house, but me.

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Day two with a broken arm from school warranted the visit from Aly and Rachel, except I wasn't home when the doorbell rang. After revealing everything to the sheriff in my living room, my family and I had spent the entire night in the station, as I recounted the whole truth, about the very last time I saw Mason.

"And then he pushed me, I woke up and I wasn't sure how long it had been. But certainly long enough for the sun to set. I didn't have my phone on me so I couldn't check."

"...and then?" Sheriff Santiago pressed.

"He called the ambulance to pick me up. I woke up in the hospital. I haven't seen him since then. I promise."

I wasn't sure know how many times I told that story. Even after I told them, I kept repeating it to myself, on the car ride back home, uncertain if I got all the facts right, or in the right order. If I somehow, messed up even one minute detail, it would call my credibility into question, making all of this worth nothing.

That was a fear I wasn't ready to face. One that was worse than hiding.

We were there the entire night, and finally, a breakthrough emerged, somewhere around 4 AM. A solution, perhaps not permanent, but simple enough give me breathing room, until the full investigation was complete.