Page 72 of The New Year's Party
Nothing happened.
It was hearing Bennett say those words that sent her over the edge. It was instantaneous, a trigger, like a firework exploding inside her mind, inside her body, bursting everything into agonizing nonsense. The narrative she’d so painfully managed tofinallybuild, the truth about what happened, was being shot to pieces. They’d agreed together, Bennett andPhelps—without her—on a different story. A story in which her assailant was guiltless and Olivia was unhinged.
So she ran.
Into the tall cornfield that should have been harvested in the summer.
All that work for the corn to grow, painfully pushing up through soil and air to reach its full potential—painfully striving upward to complete its story, its reason for being, its purpose—now abandoned, tall and dry. A waste. Useless for anything except getting lost in.
She stood there in the corn with her burden and her questions, and realized she couldn’t move, could not physically take another step, until she answered them.
Tears streamed down her face.
It felt like her body had turned inside out, and now her heart was pulsing outside her chest, alive and hurting and exposed.
Yes, she was afraid to face her victimhood.
Yes, she had preferred the other narratives, even the ones that made her guilty, because being powerless was scarier than being guilty.
What was the truth worth? She was starting to fear it might be worth everything.
No—she was starting to hope.
Shemustbe brave enough to own her own story, because if the truth didn’t matter, then her pain and trauma didn’t matter either, and Olivia didn’t want to live in a world where her hurt didn’t matter. That was hell. She’d spent enough time there.
Could she make a different world for herself? Even if no one cared about the truth but her? Even if no one listened?
She felt lighter, even though these thoughts were still heavy, even though nothing was solved, nothing guaranteed. Somehow, already it was easier to breathe, even though she was still lost, still standing there in the mud and the wet, still sad and angry and scared. She closed her eyes and breathed in slices of air and asked the last question to the sky, her head flung back, her chin pointed up.
Even if I lose Bennett?
The stars winked like silent witnesses, sealing her decision.
Yes.
She would forge her own path, alone. She would step through the glass with her heart held outside her body—even if there was no one to protect it. Even if she didn’t know where her path was leading. She couldn’t depend on anyone else—their responses, their agreement, their consensus. Her truth had to have value on its own, in some fundamental, lonely, necessary way.
If she found help, empathy, understanding? Good. But she would not wait for those things to move forward.
She took a step, feeling the crunch of hard ground followed by the softness of dirt underneath. Then another.
She was walking. This time more slowly, this time using her arms to protect her face from the stalks. She was lost, but she was walking, and that meant she might not be lost forever.
Now, back in Phelps’s yard, it felt like she had returned from another planet. She ascended the deck where she’d smoked with Ted. She slid open the glass door and stepped into the warm inside, her skin stinging from the temperature change. The first thing that hit her was the silence. Where was everyone?
The second thing that hit her was a sudden nausea. She leaned on the kitchen counter. Ugh. She didn’t want to throw up. If only she hadn’t shared Ted’s joint... A sound came from the living room. “Hello?” she called out. The front door slammed. Was the party over? Was that the last person leaving?
She managed to walk into the living room. What... what hadhappenedhere? Had someone punched the wall? Were those blood spots?
She needed to talk to Bennett. Surelyhehadn’t left... She made it to the hall with the bathroom and bedrooms.
“Bennett?”
Nothing.
She was finally at the bathroom, but Allie was occupying it... and to Olivia’s annoyance, she didn’t seem close to done. The situation was urgent, her stomach turning over on itself... Wasn’t there a bathroom in the basement?
She stumbled downstairs. This house was falling apart. Her life was falling apart, and however valuable the truth was, it still hurt, oh, ithurt. Why had she agreed to come here? Why had she thought she could live through this party unscathed?
