Run.
That’s my motto. Most people have that take a deep breath thing that barely works for me so I stick to keeping my breath and using it for something useful; running. The feeling of your lungs expanding and deflating rapidly, your heart thrashing against your chest and feeling completely weightless as you take off, is freeing. It makes you feel alive, like nothing can hold you back. You forget about all the bad things that have happened, and you’re free.
After I was mentally, emotionally, and physically fucked up as a child, I need to forget and let go of everything.
When I let myself think about what happened, every moment is spent in the darkness that imprisons me, torturing me, tearing me apart. It mutilates every last bit of my sanity.
I thought that day would wipe it all away. When I woke up in that hospital room with Owen sitting on a chair beside my bed, holding my hand as he fell asleep, I cried because I still remembered everything. Every unwanted touch.
I cried because I was still alive.
That day of the car accident, I should have died. The doctors didn’t have much hope. Too many bones were broken or shifted in the wrong place. Michael was driving fifty over the speed limit. Hitting the pole that hard was a death sentence. The doctors even said I would probably never walk again if I woke up, but I healed. It was the world’s shittiest miracle. Because when I woke up I had to watch Owen mourn the loss of his father. I wished I could turn back time and never cause the accident, but then I think of that little girl and I don’t feel any remorse. I ridded this world of an evil monster. I also stole my best friend’s idol.
I had seven years to get over that fact and I simply can’t.
I’m alive and I still have my best friend. I will not take our time for granted. In a way, I am. Because we could be together, be a real couple. We both want it.
But then I hear his father’s voice in my head, I feel him touching my skin, and I push my feelings for Owen away.
My feet hitting the pavement and my sharp breaths are the only sounds I hear around me. The whispers have stopped. My mind is at ease for the time being. I’ve been running for at least twenty minutes, pushing myself into overdoing it. Going easy isn’t an option.
I’m about to pass out. My lungs send a big “fuck you” to my brain as I head back to my apartment.
I lock the door and kick off my sneakers and then head upstairs to take a quick shower. My body is used to this torture, but the warm water cascading over my limbs feels like heaven. By the time I’m done and my head hits the pillow I’m out like a light.
“Zoë, wake up. You’re going to be late,” Echo’s sweet voice hums somewhere beside me. I feel her delicate touch nudge my arm as she repeats what she just said.
I smother my face in my pillow and groan. I feel like I didn’t sleep at all. Why did I choose a class at nine-thirty in the morning?
It’s already November. We’re almost done. You can do this, I tell myself. Graduation is this close. Being out in the real world, doing me, is this close.
“I’m up,” I mumble. “I’m up.”
“Okay, I made you some tea. It’s on the counter.”
Before I can say “thank you” she’s out of my room.
I sit up and swipe my phone from my nightstand. There are a few texts from Owen asking if I want to grab breakfast with him but the latest one says he already got it for me because I’m going to be late.
I text him a few smiley faces before I start to get up and dress quickly, and then I’m out the door with Echo, heading to my car.
Mom and Dad were reluctant to get me a car. They refused to even let me buy one but they felt that since I’m about to be a real grown up, I needed a car. They gifted me the newer model Infiniti Q70L in black obsidian a few months ago. I’m in love with it. And the fact that it’s super safe with all the collision warnings and cameras makes my parents love it just as much. When I’m behind the wheel, I don’t think of the car accident. Because I’m in control.
The devil can’t touch me here.
Ten minutes into the ride to Owen’s place, Echo shifts in the passenger seat, eyes downcast. “Hey, sweets?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been feeling weird ever since Halloween. When I mentioned the dick pic.” She looks up, brown eyebrows furrowed. “It’s not like I meant to find it. I just hacked into Owen’s computer sophomore year because I was worried he was obsessed with you. Like, stalk you in the night and take pictures obsessed. But he’s not, thank god. I finally saw that he just really cares about you. And since I’ve been pushing you to see that, well, I’ve seen his dick and I never told you. I’m a sucky friend.”
I start shaking my head, laughing because she’s giving me those puppy-dog eyes over something that doesn’t even bother me. It’s a dick pic. Owen took it for someone to see. It just happened to reach Echo’s stalker eyes. “Coco, it’s totally fine. Trust me. And you are not a sucky friend. You’re the best one. I love you, and I feel like I should tell you not to hack into computers, but you know that already.” I give her a pointed look. She chuckles. “Just don’t ever send that to anyone. Wait…” I take a left onto 15th Ave NE, “you don’t have it on you, right? You didn’t send it to yourself?”
“Uhhh…”
“Echo! Delete it! Now it’s weird. You just made this weird.”
She starts to giggle. “I kept it for you in case you wanted to see it! I was being a thoughtful friend.”
“No. I don’t. Delete it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“He’s huge.”
“Don’t care.”
“Definitely top ten of all the penis I’ve seen.”
“Please stop,” I groan, turning onto Owen’s street. He lives in Cedar apartments, which is much closer to campus then where Echo and I live. I like to run and I wanted to be as far away from Owen as I can be. When he found out I got an apartment three and half miles away from him he stared at me for a few extra seconds, eyes searching for an explanation.
We were always close. Until I started pushing him away.
That did more harm than good.
Echo sighs and reaches for her phone when I spot Owen waiting up ahead. I park my car in Cedar garage and then we walk toward him. He wiggles his eyebrows at me as we get closer.
Echo turns her phone to me. “Take a peek before it’s gone.”
I try my hardest not to look. I do. It’s wrong and I’ll feel disgusting knowing that I’ve seen Owen’s penis and he wasn’t the one to show me. But my curiosity gets the best of me and my eyes shift to the screen.
It’s an animated unicorn.
“Ha! I knew you wanted to see it. I deleted it though. Gone forever.” Echo winks at me and clicks something on her phone before dropping it into her bag.
“Got your favorites. Bagels with peanut butter,” Owen says, holding up a brown paper bag with the logo of the café he’s always at. It’s a couple of streets down where he could have waited for us but I know he walked back here to wait for me to park my car.
Owen’s always been this way. He’s like this with his younger sister when he visits. He never lets her wander around alone, always picking up things if she needs it. He’s just programmed to care about people.
“Ooh, I knew I kept you for a reason!” Echo cheers, grabbing the bag and digging inside.
We watch her attack the bagel like it was the only food she has seen in months. Owen chuckles and steps up to me, wrapping his arms around me like he does every day, and greets me with his deep, sexy voice, “Hey.”
“Hi,” I breathe into his chest.
“We have to get going!” Echo yells.
Owen’s hugs are the best hugs. Before he lets go, he tightens his grip and keeps me against his chest for another three seconds before letting go and kissing my forehead.
I drop my head and smile at the sidewalk because looking at him after he does that makes my heart soar.
Always has.
Zoë, Five years o
ld
There was a boy. He was holding onto his mother’s leg and wouldn’t let her go. He screamed and cried while she tried to unwrap his little fingers from their death grip. He kept shaking his head, screaming, “Please Mommy, I want to stay with you!”
Mommy and Daddy dropped me off at kindergarten ten minutes ago with the promise of going to the zoo only if I behave and try to make a friend on my first day of school.
I skipped into the classroom and said hello to everyone. That made them smile. Mrs. Rego patted me on the shoulder and said she was going to love having me in her class.
When we heard the screams, everyone ran to the wooden door and tried to peek through the glass. I snuck out when I saw that a boy our age was the reason for that.
His mother was pretty even though she had tears running down her face. It made me sad. I didn’t like to see people cry. “Owen, sweetheart. You have to let go. I promise I’m coming back. You’re going to make friends, learn new things, and have fun here.”
“I don’t want to stay here all by myself!”
I stepped up to Owen and tapped his arm.
He stopped crying and looked over at me.
“Hi, I’m Zoë,” I said, adding a little wave. “I can stay with you until your mommy comes back.” I never liked being away from Mommy or Daddy too long either.
I looked up at the pretty woman. She looked like Mommy with her dark hair but hers didn’t have the blonde strands that Mommy had done by her friend Jenny. Owen’s mommy’s eyes were so blue they looked like the ocean.
“Hilary, I need to be at work in twenty minutes,” a man said, walking toward us. He looked down at Owen and I, and then he knelt down. His eyes were the color of a Christmas tree, just like Owen’s. “Owen, buddy, we need to go.”
Owen took a shaky breath and then brought his eyes back to me. “Okay.” He let go of his mother’s leg and took a step back so we were side by side. I felt his fingers wrap around my hand really tight and he smiled.
Daddy always said people who smile are the best kinds of people. They make the best friends. Like Mommy.
“We’re going to be the bestest of friends, I just know it!” I waved goodbye to his parents and pulled Owen with me so we could enter the classroom. “I like your smile.”
“You have pretty eyes,” he whispered as we walked through the door. His cheeks turned pink and he wouldn’t stop looking down at his shoes.
I started to giggle because hearing him say that made me feel weird. My little heart felt like I was running around the park. It was beating so fast.
And then he hugged me.
I felt like flying.
I tap my fingers against the armrest of the leather couch I’m sitting on. The only sound in this room is a pen scratching against paper as Mary, my therapist of five months, writes down a few notes I’ll never see. Some days she switches to her iPad. When I came in thirty minutes ago she grabbed her notepad and pointed to the couch near the wide window for me to take a seat. She lets me admire the view of downtown Seattle before she starts off with wanting to know how I’m doing.
It’s our routine for the next thirty minutes and then she looks up at me with a genuine smile on her red stained lips.
It’s the smile she gives me when she talks about Owen.
I slide my hand down from the armrest onto my lap and I interlock my fingers, staring at my pink fingernails.
“How did it feel to hold hands with Owen?” she asks, no doubt staring at my hands as well.
My lips curl up and I imagine his hand in mine. I can feel the small scar in-between his thumb and forefinger from when he ripped the skin apart during a basketball game when he was sixteen. He took up the sport after his dad died. Baseball was their thing. He didn’t want to play it anymore.
“I feel weightless when I’m with him.” I drag my eyes up, staring at the dark brown curls sitting on either side of her chest. “Owen is so gentle and sweet but my mind conjures up what his dad did and then I…panic.” I shake my head, not wanting to go back to those moments. “I want to be with him but I feel like I can’t.”
Her pen scratches against the paper again and she nods. “Have you ever thought about telling him about the abuse?”
My eyes find her dark brown ones quickly. “I can’t.” She’s brought this up a few times over the last few months I’ve been with her. She’s never had a patient that was abused for so long and has kept it to themselves, never telling a soul. There’s a first for everything. I refuse to tell my family. Especially Owen’s family. What good would come out of it? He can’t hurt anyone anymore. Besides me.
She holds my gaze for a while longer before she says, “Have you ever tried being intimate with Owen?”
“You mean have sex or touch him?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head again. “Neither. We’ve slept together in the same bed a couple of times but we’ve never gone that far.” I look down when I say the rest. “Owen is attracted to me. I’ve felt him a few times. Over the clothes. Never under.”
“Owen has never touched you when he gets an erection?”
I start to blush and it’s embarrassing. Now we’re talking about Owen’s erection. “No, he’s the perfect gentleman.”
“Do you want to be physically involved with him?”
My eyes focus on her black four-inch heels. “I want to know if it’s possible.” I cringe when I think of what she might say next. She told me to try and pursue a relationship with Owen. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gives me an assignment to try and fuck him next. “Are you going to tell me that I should have sex with him?”
She smiles widely, dropping her eyes to the notepad. “I’m trying to help you build up to that step for when you are ready. I was going to suggest that since holding his hand worked maybe it’s time to try something else. Have you ever kissed him?”
I play with the hem of my sweater and I bite my lip. “I’ve never kissed him but he’s kissed me. It was only a peck on the lips.”
Setting the notepad down on the table sitting between us, she breathes out slowly. “I want you to see if you could initiate the kiss this time. Take it as slow as you need it to be.”
I nod. “I think I can do that.”
I can definitely do that.
“Excellent.” She glances at the thin watch on her wrist. We still have twenty minutes.
“Would you like to talk about the car accident today?”
For years people have tried to get me to talk about it. I was diagnosed with PTSD two months after I was released from the hospital when I told my first ever therapist that I was having nightmares. I took medication that numbed the pain but it also numbed my emotions. I had to stop taking them because either I felt nothing or too much. There was no in-between and I’m someone who needs to feel.
Sure being reminded of the accident daily didn’t help but it was awful to lie in bed staring at the ceiling thinking and feeling nothing. Nothing made me smile. And when Owen came over when I was medicated all I wanted was for him to leave because he cared too much and it annoyed me.
“Not today,” I answer, just like the other times she has asked.
Will the day ever come?
Will I ever be the girl I used to be?
Both questions have the same answer. No.
I’ve never been the type of person to push people away. I was always bubbly, talkative, and full of life. I welcomed conversations with strangers. Mom and Dad thought that was a little off-putting at first because they were worried I would wonder off and get taken by someone. Our family was known for having money. You can’t really hide it when your last name is on buildings around the world. Having their own business go global more than two decades ago set them for life. It’s how I can live comfortably. Dad is a real estate developer and Mom is an architect so they work together perfectly, along with the rest of their team.
When I was younger, I used to run up to my neighbor whenever she was bringing in groceries, and say, “Zoë W
hitmore at your service, ma’am!” Mom and Dad taught me to always help the elderly. They might be stubborn at first but help is always appreciated.
“You shouldn’t be so giving, darling. People might take advantage of that one day,” Mrs. Ramos would say in a scratchy voice.
I didn’t know how right she’d be.
Mary’s eyes stay on mine silently probing for where my mind just took me. So I tell her.
I walk out of Parrington Hall when my only class for the day ends. I have nothing else planned for the next hour so I take my time walking past buildings, enjoying the scenery.
My favorite time of year to be walking around campus is in March when the cherry blossom trees are in full bloom. It’s like walking into a peaceful dream when the blossoms fall from the tree, floating in the wind. It’s like Picasso himself threw paint everywhere and created a masterpiece.
This is a place I dreamed of traveling to.
I came to U-Dub because their English department is one of the best in the country. And have you seen the Suzzallo library?! That majestic place takes my breath away every time I step foot inside.
Looking around at the bare trees I can’t help but think of what my therapist said earlier this morning.
My phone dings from inside my bag, pulling me away from thoughts of possibly kissing my best friend. I dig around until I find it.
Echo: Can’t make it for lunch :(
Me: You asshole, you promised!
Echo: I just don’t like Freddie that way…
Me: I can tell Freddie to stay home
Echo: Don’t be an asshole ;)
She was the one to bring up having lunch today before she heads back to Indiana to visit her mom for the weekend. If she didn’t want Owen’s roommate to overhear the plans last night, she shouldn’t have said them right in front of him. We were all done with classes and heading to Owen’s place for dinner when Echo thought of what she’d want to eat today so she couldn’t not invite the guys to come after they heard her. Freddie gets a little flustered around Echo and it comes off a little creepy. But he means well.
Let Her Go Page 3
