𝘾𝙍𝘼𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐 ↣ 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉

six - change my mind

[i was a child. i said no
i begged no.

why didn't you listen?]

____________________________________

When I walked in, Chloe looked up.

She was sitting at a table, arms folded across it. Her cheek was resting on her arms, but she sat up stiffly as soon as she heard the door knob rattle.

Her raccoon eyes were red-rimmed. She had obviously been crying.

I don't think I stopped crying for weeks after I got away from him, either.

"Who are you?" She asked me, softly.

She looked up at me, like really looked, and I had to stop myself from gasping out loud. Her eyes were sunken into her face, cheekbones sticking out. Her blonde hair was loose around her face, blue eyes shining against pale skin.

She was wearing clothes that the hospital gives you when you leave. I had the same loose white sweater, black joggers, and shoes. Chloe looked exactly how I did when I got out; sick, and tired, and in pain.

"My name's Mickey. It's Chloe, right?" I asked. I remembered the police officer that talked to me when I was in the hospital called me McKenna, and I hated it.

No one called me McKenna. And no one called me Kenni, not anymore.

"Cleo," she said.

For a moment, I was silent. I considered why I was even there in the first place. "I know what you went through," I whispered.

I could still hear my own screams in my head. I remembered everything.

"No, you don't," Cleo said back, almost angrily. And I understood that. I knew how it felt to go through that and have people tell you they understood when they didn't. Because, no, people don't understand. They say that so you don't feel like you are alone in your suffering.

But Cleo was not alone in her suffering. I was right there, still suffering too.

"Try me," I said, raising one eyebrow. She raised both of hers, for a moment, before looking away from me. I frowned. I watched her, and waited. Eventually she pulled her head back up to look at me.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to look at me when you talk," I countered immediately. "I know me made you look at him and not mumble. But he's not here and he can't hurt you anymore."

Her chin tucked tiredly to her chest. Her sight stayed focused on her feet. "How did you know about that?" She didn't look at me.

"There was this one time, that I didn't look at him when I apologized. He whipped me until his arm hurt, and then had his friend take over." I paused. "It went on all night." Cleo readjusted herself in her seat, so she was facing me. She sat up indian style, legs folding close to her. Good, I thought, he didn't fuck up her leg too.

"You-?" She cut her own question off, maybe not sure how to ask it.

"Yeah," I said simply.

"How do you talk about it?" She asked me. I laughed a little bit and shook my head.

"I still can't," I said. "I didn't tell my best friend. I haven't told my new family." She raised her eyebrows, as if asking then why are you telling me anything?  "A deputy said James had another girl,  she was here. They said you were young. I don't know. You went through what I did so I can't tell you anything you won't get. You know?"