Vulnerable

Anna and Sandy, after a thrilling evening running around the hospital, head back up to their room where Sandy finally opens up about her past.

“We were all drinking like we’d never seen water for ten years. But instead of water it was vodka. Gosh we were crazy. We’d gone to the park and climbed the jungle gym and howled at the moon until our throats got sore, at which point we drank some more. It was a wild night.” Sandy’s eyes sparkled as she told the story. It was as if she was seeing it happen again, like it was a movie right in front of her.

“Jackson, my boyfriend at the time, had driven me home. It was around 3 o’clock in the morning. Mom was probably still at work. She usually took the night shift at the diner on Fridays. I walked through the door, trying to be as quiet as possible so I wouldn’t wake anyone. It was usually easy sneaking in and out of the house. My room was on the first floor, so I never had to worry about any stairs creaking or anything.”

“Things were so easy back then,” She laughed. I knew she was rambling. I knew she was avoiding telling me something. She looked at me and realized I knew what she was doing. She smiled and continued.

“I stumbled into my room. I nearly tripped over eight pairs of shoes, and I didn’t even bother taking mine off. I collapsed into bed and stayed like that. I didn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t. So I just stared at the ceiling for a bit.” She paused.

“Then I heard my door creak open just a bit. My step dad, Stew, whispered, ‘Sandy? You awake?’ and I told him I was. He closed the door behind him I heard him lock it. I thought this strange, so I turned around, but before I knew it, he was on top of me, ripping off my shirt and tugging down my shorts. I tried to scream, but he slapped me and told me not to make a sound or I’d be sorry…Well, you can guess what happened next.”

“My god,” Was all I could make out. A tear dropped from one of Sandy’s big green eyes and landed on my bed.

“I wouldn’t leave my room for a week, unless I was home alone. I wouldn’t leave the house. Jackson kept calling me. I wouldn’t pick up. How could I? After another week, life was becoming unbearable. The constant sneaking around, the constant feeling of shame and disgust. So one day I went to my mother’s bathroom, found some of her pills, went back to my room, and took them. I woke up to the sound of banging. Someone was trying to get into my room. I no longer cared who it was. The door broke down and in ran Jackson. He spoke my name. It wasn’t very clear to me, but then he screamed it over and over again. He ran to me and held me. I told him I was sorry. I passed out again, and awoke here. Apparently, Jackson rushed me over just in the nick of time. My stomach was pumped and I was saved. They constantly asked me questions like why I had taken the pills, why had I felt the need to kill myself, blah blah blah. I wouldn’t tell them. I was scared. Of what exactly, I don’t know. But I was terrified. I wouldn’t even tell Jackson. I didn’t really even love him. I cared about him deeply, but I never loved him like that.”

“The counselor they had me see while recovering was a real piece of work, and a lot like me. After session upon session of her trying to figure me out, she told me one day about something that happened to her when she was younger. She was raped by her brother after he had come home drunk. After she told me this, I finally got up the courage to tell her my story. I cried and she listened. They told me I had to stay here longer, and I told them I wanted to. It’s been a long while. I’m still here, but I’m still fine with it.”

“Wow,” I breathed. She chuckled.

“You haven’t said much but ‘my god’ and ‘wow’.”

“Sorry, it’s just…I’m sorry, this happened to you. I’m just…so sorry.”

“Well, quit being sorry for me. I’ve quit it. You should too.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, she began to cry. Then I began to cry because she was crying.

Then all at once, the space between us was erased, and her lips were on mine.

It was quick.

“Oh god, that was rude of me. Here I am, a blabbering fool. A crying baby,” She said, wiping away the tears from her face.

“Hey, I’m crying too,” I told her, wiping my own face.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I feel your pain, Sandy Green. I don’t necessarily know your pain, but I feel it. I feel it as if it was my own because…” She looked at me -- eyes swollen, hair messy, and face flushed -- and I looked back at her. My heart was beating a thousand times per minute, and I felt I couldn’t breathe, but I managed to smile and say, “Because I love you.” She smiled wide and leapt on top of me, her mouth meeting mine again.