Page 39 of Saving Barrette

Shock hits his face, his brow furrowing, but his movements don’t stop. He stalls, yeah, for a fraction of a second. I see the emotions working over his face. The confusion. The need. The love. All of it. He’d give anything to make me whole again. Even… this.

Giving me intoxicating kisses, he’s searching for an answer, one I can’t give. But then his movements change and become more forceful. His grip tightens and his mouth moves to my neck, his lips at my ear as he breathes. “I love you. Never forget that.” And then he slams into me harder than before, my breath expelling in a gasp.

“I love you,” I tell him.

A shudder runs through him, his movements quick, and harder than before and it’s everything I need and want in this moment. I claw at Asa’s shoulders, his back, anywhere I can get a grip on him and it only seems to drive him forward. It’s almost too much and I sense the emotion working its way through me. It starts with the breathing, my heart thumping, the flashes in my head, but I can’t make sense of any of them. It’s just images, ones I’ve never seen before. Dark hair matted to a face I don’t recognize. A purple Rams football hat. It’s from North Thurston High School, where I graduated from.

I stare at the ceiling and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want these memories. I shake my head and push against Asa’s shoulders.

A moment later, a rumble leaves his heaving chest, and he throws his head back as his second orgasm rocks through him. I hold on, refusing to let my mind ruin this, but I’m counting the seconds before I know it’s happening. Before it’s too late and I burst into tears.

Asa must sense the change because he lifts up and pushes away from me. He’s not looking at me. His hands move to his knees and he pants. His lashes flutter, a quick peek at me and then he pulls away completely.

And then it happens. I push away from him toward the wall and burst into tears. I curl into myself, holding my pillow. My chest feels like there’s someone on top of me, but he’s not. He’s not even touching me.

Asa moves and swings his legs around the side of the bed, my shirt crumbled around his waist. “Christ, I knew we shouldn’t have,” he says through gritted teeth. His head twists and he looks out the corner of his eyes at my body. He’s shaking with anger and annoyance. “We shouldn’t even be having sex, Barrette. You and I both know it’s not what you need.”

“It’s not you….” I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. “It’s me. It’s always me.” I want to tell him it’s not all me. It’s Roman. It’s Eva. It’s all the reminders that he deserves so much better and I can’t give him that.

Asa turns his head and stares at me, tears in his eyes. His chin shakes when he breathes out the words, “We’re destroying each other.”

I nod, knowing it’s the truth. It hurts. It burns. It festers inside us and we’d be stupid not to admit the truth. There’s no way around it. I push, he gives in, and it’s not what he needs. “You should let go.”

Twisting toward me, his fingertips find my lips. “I can’t,” he whispers, his eyes heavy on mine. “I won’t. Not ever.”

He moves closer to hold me and I let him. We might be destroying each other, but the need to be with him is too consuming.

An hour later, when I watch him leave this time, my heart pounds furiously against my ribcage. He thinks I’m sleeping. Normally I can’t bear to see him leave, but this time, I torture myself with seeing him disappear.

I get in the shower after he leaves, letting the warm water wash over my skin. I feel my ribs and the bones in my hip protrude. It’s gross, but food doesn’t hold any appeal to me anymore. I’m lucky if I can get in one meal a day.

I think back to an hour ago and the way those memories hit me while we were having sex. Somehow the nightmares I’ve been having turned into a flashback montage and fragments of a scene from that night.

How though? Why when I was having sex? I remember in my neuro class where the professor talked about traumatic events in your brain being encoded and you store significant details about them. Whether they get retrieved that’s unknown. We sometimes chose to block them out until a memory triggers it and your brain uses its code to look it up, so to speak.

My brain looked up one detail I had never seen until now. My attacker, at least one of them, had been on the football team with North Thurston.

“WHAT’S THE NAMEof this class again?” Roman asks, nudging my shoulder. “I’ve been looking for my book for a like a fucking week.”

I snap out of my trance and realize I don’t remember coming to class or sitting here. I don’t remember getting the coffee in my hand or putting on the clothes I’m wearing. Time fades with each day and I simply,don’tremember.

I point to the board where the name is written in black dry erase marker.

Roman laughs. “Oh… right.”

I look down because I’m no better. Roman glances at my textbook for my photography class. “Clearly you didn’t remember either.”

“At least I brought a book. I can pretend I know what I’m doing.” I turn in my chair so he can’t see my book. “You’re gonna look like you forgot.”

He studies my face. He sees the dark circles and the weight loss. He sees the way I only ever wear hoodies or long sleeve shirts and jeans to hide how much my body isn’t my own any longer.

“Are you okay?”

I roll my eyes and fight through the need to move away from him. “I’m fine.”

He shifts in his chair and leans toward me, our shoulders touching as he slouches. “You don’t look fine.”

I’m not, but there’s no way I’m telling Roman that. There are two girls in front of us who are giggling, and they have the laughter that makes me scream inside. High pitched and rich.

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