Page 80 of Jacob

Punching her clenched fist into the pale blue hospital blanket, she says, “I said, I feel stupid.”

“Why?”

“For speaking to him online, sharing things with him. I thought he was agirl. That, right there, was a huge red flag. I’m angry at myself for being so stupid. What was I thinking?” She rubs her forehead.

I can’t help noticing the bracelet bruises around her wrists. Thank fuck they will disappear. The last thing she needs is a permanent reminder of her ordeal.

“Hey, you think you’re stupid? I let you leave with him. I will live with that regret forever. However, I will do my damnedest to make it up to you. Every. Single. Day.”

“You didn’t let me leave with him. I left willingly.” She covers her whole face with her two hands.

I peel her hands away from her face. The face I want to stare at for all time. “Look at me.”

My hands in hers, being more serious than I ever have before, I say, “We can blame a lot of things, but please know you had no control over his thoughts or his behavior.” I reach out to trace the scratch on her cheek with my thumb. “I’m just so fucking happy you’re safe.”

I kiss her forehead again to remind myself she’s real. I’m touching her. I can feel her. She’s here and I’m never letting her go.

“I did the rape kit test.” Her voice is low when she says the words that make my blood boil. She should never have had to gothrough that. “I don’t think anything happened to me. I mean, I would feel it, wouldn’t I?” Her brows furrow as unspoken fear fills her face. I lace my fingers with hers and try to pour strength and support into her so she knows she’s not going through this alone.

“Whatever happened to you, we will get through it together, with your mom and dad, your friends, and whatever medical support you need. We’ll be with you every step of the way, and we’ll do everything in our power to make him pay.”

“He’s not getting away with what he did to me. I’ll make sure nobody else ever has to go through what I have.”

“You’re just like your mom. She’s an awesome little firecracker. Much bossier than me.”

“She is.” She smirks, nodding her head in agreement. Then she blurts out what’s on her mind. “What if he’s touched me where he shouldn’t have?” She dry heaves. Pulling her hand out of mine, she slaps it over her mouth. The bed sheets get thrown back as she jumps out of the bed and bursts through the bathroom door to vomit. Fast on my feet, I jump over the bed into the bathroom to help her. Not like her to have her hair down, I pull it into a high ponytail, and rub her back while she empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.

I want to kill that motherfucker with my bare hands for making her feel like this.

“Oh gawd, I’m so sorry,” she coughs and splutters.

I pass her a tissue to wipe her mouth.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Thank you.” Shoulders hunched, she moves onto her bottom and rests her back against the bathroom wall.

“I don’t want to feel like this.” When she breaks down, I’m on the floor beside her, scooping her into my lap and enveloping her in my arms at the speed of a heartbeat.

Holding her firmly to my chest, I cradle her in my arms, just holding her as sadness and devastation engulf her.

I repeat comforting words over and over again. As I swaddle her, she buries herself deeper and deeper into my chest, until eventually her little sobs and whimpers subside.

Using her pale blue hospital gown to wipe her nose, she tilts her head back, leans it against my bicep, and looks straight into my eyes. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d have no one to talk to about the books you’re reading at lunchtime, and you’d be having to use a substandard backpack that was just plain ugly and sonotParisian chic.” I put on a fake high voice toward the end and roll my eyes mockingly, which makes her laugh.

“The police have my backpack as evidence.”

“I can buy you a new one. Now, let’s get you back into bed.”

We both move off the floor, her face now red and swollen from crying.

When I tuck her back into bed, she hooks her leg outside of the blanket and she says, “I always get hot feet. I like them outside of the covers.”

“Good to know.” I wink, then kiss the top of her head again to comfort her. I like kissing her; it feels nice.

“Would you like something to dri—” I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence as an out-of-breath, flustered Owen bursts through the door like a tornado.

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