Page 156 of Crew
"I was going to use the bathroom in the hallway."
Stupid toilet paper.
"Bren." Channing's eyes had shut tight. He didn't want to hear this, but it was coming. It was time. Finally.
"Maybe I should've grabbed a robe. I don't know. Maybe if I'd stayed in my room..." If I'd had toilet paper. If I hadn't needed to use the bathroom outside of my room.
I felt her coming now. She wanted to protect me. She wanted to envelop me so I didn't feel what I was about to say, but I pushed her off. I wanted to go numb, but I couldn't. It wasn't right, not this time. Not yet.
My throat was scraped raw. "The cops made note of what I was wearing that night," I told him. "A sleeping tank top and boy shorts."
Like it was my fault.
Like it mattered what I had been wearing.
I still felt their silent accusations. It had been in their eyes, the way they looked at me, as I sat there covered in blood.
I had to get to the bad parts. I couldn't hold her off anymore. Inch by inch, I let her in, and I became so numb I couldn't feel my lips.
"I was in the hallway, on my way back. The cops told me later that when I flushed the toilet, that's how he knew someone was up there. He heard me."
I had reached for my bedroom's door handle. Three feet and I would've had the door locked. I would've been inside. I would've been safe.
"He came out of nowhere."
I never saw him. I felt him.
There was a shadow on the stairs, and then his hand was on my mouth. He dragged me back into their room.
God. I clamped my eyes shut. What if it'd happened in their room? What then? What would've been the ending?
"Bren?" Someone had called my name.
He'd paused, just inside their bedroom, and he must have changed his mind.
"He was going to rape me in Mom and Dad's room. Then he heard Dad, and he took me into my room instead."
He'd shut the door and whispered in my ear, "You fucking tell him you're fine and you're going to bed, or I will kill you. You got that, cunt?"
"He shook me as he threatened me."
Our dad had said that's how he knew I was lying. I never told him I was fine. It was a lie.
I didn't lie.
"I said what he told me to. I recited it word for word."
But I'd known what was by my bed, what I could grab.
"He said he was going to kill me." Even now, anger swelled inside me. I felt it pushing at the numbness.
"He waited until Dad bought my lie and we heard him leave."
I'd heard one agonizing footstep on the floor after another until they faded. I'd felt my humanity going with him.
"He threw me on the bed. He started ripping my clothes off. He was in a hurry. He fumbled for his condom--so thoughtful of him, right?"
I'd known where my knife was.
