Page 16 of Chaos & Corruption

“Damn it, Mila, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

“I shouldn’t have let you come here.”

The girl is not making any sense, she’s jumping from one thing to another. I drop my hand from her chin and lean back. I used to be able to read her. One look and I’d know what she was thinking, sometimes I’d be able to finish her sentences too. But I’m so out of touch with what’s going on, I don’t know what to do.

“This place is hell, Victoria,” she whispers. “And those guys . . . the football players you were talking to—Webber—he’s fucking Satan.”

I narrow my eyes. I didn’t get any bad vibes from him, but then again I was too enthralled with Alex to take much notice of Webber. Was he drunk? Yes. Did he act like a fool? Yeah. But it was all harmless.

“Mila—”

“No, Victoria, listen to me. You need to stay away from those guys.”

“That’s going to be kinda hard considering they live downstairs from us,” I return. “Where is all this coming from? Did Webber hurt you?” Dread churns in my gut as I start to think of all the horrible things that he might’ve done to her, shameful acts of terror that would explain her manic behavior.

She snaps her gaze back to me and shouts, “They’ll ruin you!”

Then she’s on her feet, pacing in front of me.

“We have to move. Tomorrow I’ll go talk to the housing advisor and see if there is a dorm open.” She stops pacing and turns back to me, her eyes wide. “You should call your father. Tell him you changed your mind, that you’re missing home. Anything. He won’t care about the tuition and if you transfer out before classes start he might even get a partial refund.”

I stare at her for a beat before I rise to my feet. I’m two seconds away from calling my father and not because I want him to come pack my things, but because I’m actually scared my best friend is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Mila, you’re starting to freak me out,” I murmur softly. “I don’t know what happened—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence because she balls her fists and releases a shrill cry.

“I was raped, Victoria,” she sobs, looking me straight in the eyes. “I was fucking raped.”

There are moments between us, secrets we’ve shared and memories we made. Times when we only had each other, when it felt like the whole world was against us. Those were the times when I was most certain God purposely didn’t give me a sister so that I could chose my own. Ten years ago, I chose Mila and she chose me. We’re not sisters by blood, but we are sisters of the heart and right now, watching her tremble, hearing her confess her ugliest secret, my heart feels like it’s being split wide open.

“I’ve never said that out loud,” she whispers, the shock of her confession settling in.

I don’t have a response for that. What does one say to someone after they share such a tragic secret? Do they say I’m sorry? What’s that going to do? It won’t erase the shame. It won’t fill the void that some monster has left behind. There are no adequate words to say to someone who has suffered through that kind of horror. All you can do is give them your love and support and that’s what I do. I rush to Mila and wrap my arms around her. I hold her with all my might and let her cry it out.

I shoulder her grief.

I absorb her pain.

And I cry.

I cry for Mila and all the faceless women I’ve never met. The woman who live with the same scar as my best friend.

Mila pulls out of my arms and wipes her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” I whisper. Cupping her face, I force her eyes back to mine. “You have nothing to be sorry for, do you hear me? Not a thing.”

She doesn’t react right away, but after a moment she nods. I take a deep breath and push my fingers through my hair, taking a moment to choose my next words carefully.

“I don’t know what the proper protocol is in a situation like this, so if I say something that upsets you or ask you a question that you’re not ready to answer, you just tell me and I will drop it.” Again, she just nods. I move us to the couch and force her to sit. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Last semester.”

I stare at her quietly for a moment. When Mila came home for the summer, I saw her a lot. We went to the beach almost every weekend and not once did she let on that she was suffering. It was like we picked up right where we left off when she left for Stonewall and now that I know the truth, I don’t know what to make of that. Would she have told me if she wasn’t triggered tonight?

“Before you ask, it wasn’t Webber,” she whispers. “He wasn’t the one who raped me, but he was there. He saw it happen and instead of doing anything about it, he and his friends spread awful rumors about me.” She turns on the couch, leaning her back against the arm. “Everyone at Stonewall thinks I’m some filthy slut, that I sleep with professors and break up families.” She shakes her head. “It’s not true, Victoria. None of it is true.”

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