CW: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, RAPE, ABORTION

Four Years, Seven Months, and Thirteen Days Ago

The dark sky hangs low over our meager gathering. The freshly dug grave in front of me is deep and ominous, it's mouth open wide to consume the closed casket that now houses the corpse of my best friend.

The tears coat my face, making my tracks in my expensive foundation. Every time I suck in a gasp of air between sobs, my bottom lip is pulled into my mouth before being released with breath. Snot has escaped my nose and found it's way into my mouth, the slimy saltiness coating my tongue.

I stare into the churning sky, tuning out the preacher who is spewing his practiced spiel that I know Bec would have absolutely despised. In a move that surprised no one, her parents crafted her funeral to be what they wanted, completely disregarding the person their daughter was in favor of the one they wanted her to be.

They said that she died from a miscarriage; that she had an affair with a teacher at her boarding school and gotten herself knocked up. They said she was excited to be a mom, despite the shameful circumstances. They said she was really turning her life around. They lied.

Bec wasn't bisexual like me. She was 100% all about the ladies-a lesbian, anti-dick, homosexual, gay, however you want to put it. And I'll be damned if she wasn't the most stubborn human being. She knew exactly who she was and was completely confident and sure of herself. She wouldn't pull a 180 because some random man smirked at her. The Bec I knew would give any guy that even looked at her too long the finger and gone about her day. There's no way she would have willingly slept with the man that got her pregnant. The only other option makes my stomach lurch with dread. I have a feeling that something much more sinister is going on. Something her parents would have buried so it never sees the light of day. Whatever it is, I'm hell bent on finding the truth. Because I know that it's what killed my best friend.

I glance at Bec's parents out of the corner of my eye. Her mom is dabbing her eyes dramatically and her father is as stoic as ever. To anyone else, they appear to be grieving parents. I know that's bullshit, though. I may not know exactly what went down while my best friend was stuck in that school, but I know it isn't what her parents claim. According to her little brother, who I recently ran into, the day their parents learned of her extracurricular activities with me, they disowned her privately before shipping her off.

I will never forgive them. As far as I'm concerned, her parents are to blame for Bec's death. Despite that, I was forced by my own shitty parents to write and give a detailed apology to hers after I was released from Mercy's Grasp.

I don't believe that my parents were ever told the specifics of my treatments, but even if they were, I believe that they wouldn't mind as long as I was cured. They believed Doug when he told them I was cured of my sickness, praising him and gripping his grimy damp hands as I sat meekly, finishing my act with flawless phony righteousness. It's a lie I'm happy to allow them to continue to believe for now. I was trapped in that place for just over ten months. It took me longer than I thought it would to convince the right people that I was no longer anything but straight, but I did it. It cost me more than I want to admit.

I stare past the dark oak casket and bushy white flowers, past the dully gleaming black hearse parked nearby, past the army of weathered headstones rooted in their eternal formation. I stare into the distance, which is swirling in mist now. The last year has stolen pieces of me that I don't know if I can ever get back. Some parts, like my hesitation, I don't want back. Others, like Bec, I'd do anything to have returned to me.

I wipe my face with the sleeve of my black dress. It's the same one I wore to homecoming my sophomore year of high school. I remember that night well.

The heavy stench of sweaty teenagers packed like sardines in the ventilation-lacking cafeteria is still ingrained in my nostrils. The music playing was an edited radio mix of a shitty pop song that was always playing and always got stuck in your head for hours, submitting you to torture you couldn't end. I was sulking along the back wall, staring out at my classmates dancing like they were in a Jennifer Lopez music video. I was clutching my can of Sprite, wondering why the hell I was even there. Bec materialized beside me, causing my drink to go flying when she spoke.

You look good in that dress. I bet you'd loo better out of it.

That was the first day I realized that I honestly loved her. Love her. Because, even though she's still gone, I still love her. I always will.

The pastor has finally concluded his droning and everyone is starting to leave. I start wandering back towards the line of parked cars that are now dusted with tiny water droplets. Stuck in the middle of the umbrella-clad herd of sniffling, sobbing, and otherwise silent funeral goers, I have no choice but to force my feet to slow to their pace. My tears have dried, and I'm feeling numb. My mind is somewhere far away. I feel someone press into my hand briefly, but I don't think much of it until I focus my eyes again, clenching my hands at the speed of the group insistent on moving in a crowd like common sheep. I can make out a piece of paper in my left fist, tucked neatly inside my fingers. I glance around, but no one seems to have noticed the one side transaction that just occurred. There's also no sign of anyone that looks like they would have slipped me whatever it is I'm holding.

I don't dare to look at the note until I'm locked in my car, the rain beginning to beat down on my windows. Cautiously, I unfold the notebook paper. There's a message scrawled on it in what's clearly a guys messy, give no fucks, nearly unreadable handwriting. Luckily, I'm able to decipher the alien script.

0730 River Road
11:30 PM
Be there if you want the truth.
She left it for you.

I reread it a couple of times. I recognize the address as a hang out teenagers like to go to to drink at on the weekends. It's nicknamed 'The Slab' because a large piece of flat industrial concrete juts into the wide, gently flowing river. I've been out to the site a couple of times for bonfires and parties, the dense woods providing cover from the cops that occasionally patrol by on the main road about half a mile away.

Since my tears have stopped, the rain seems to have picked up my slack. I take a deep shaking breath and crank my engine, heading towards the apartment my cousin and I are renting together. Her parents are helping us pay for it while we're both in school. Her dad and my mom are siblings, which is the only reason I'm trying to appease my parents for now.

When I walk in, I grunt a half-assed hello to my cousin, Codi, who was blessed with normal people for parents and not religious nut jobs. I slink to my room, shutting the door behind me. I strip out of the dress and replace it with sweats and a tee shirt. I set an alarm on my phone and collapse on the bed, exhausted. I have seven hours until I have to be at The Slab to learn the truth, whatever the hell it may be. I'm still trying to figure out what 'it' is from the mysterious note. I realize that a year ago, I would have not even considered following the instructions on the paper, citing common sense and reason, but in reality, following the commands of my anxiety. I can't help but smile. I really have changed. I'm more like Bec now than ever before. I find something oddly comforting about that. My eyes drift closed and I give into my definite need for sleep.

The gravel crunches and pops beneath my care tires. I slow to a crawl and cut my headlights as I creep down the rocky road. I'm heading towards the river, attempting to calm my nerves. The closer I get, the faint flickers of the bonfire become more clear through the trees, the orange glow dancing on the surface of the slow moving water.

I pull in and park behind a lifted black Jeep, killing my engine. I step out of the care and shut my door, ensuring that I lock it behind me. My worn combat boots make almost no sound against the compacted dirt, and I keep a firm grip on my knife, which is tucked in the back of my shorts. My black tee shirt is faded and old, but holy hell is it comfortable. My grey Neff beanie is pulled over my black hair, and as usual, I opted out of makeup meaning my subtle freckles will be completely visible in the light of the fire.

Up ahead, I can make out a group of maybe ten people, all talking among themselves and sipping out of beer cans and red plastic cups. A few of them are smoking what appears to be cigarettes, but I wouldn't be shocked if there was a blunt or two in the mix. As I step out of the cover of the dense brush, the smell of weed hits me and I know I was right about the blunts. Everyone stops and stares as I make my way towards them. I recognize a few of the faces as mutual friends Bec and I shared that I haven't seen since before I was sent to conversion camp. We nod solemnly at each other. Other faces, I don't remember ever seeing before tonight. One in the latter group calls me by name.

"Carter!" The guys appears to be my age, with long ashy blond hair that falls a couple of inches below his shoulders. His jawline is angular and I can make out a subtle, shallow dimple in his chin. His stare is intense, but not nearly as intense as his pale green eyes. I head over to him. He grins at me as I approach.

"You know my name. Shouldn't I know yours?" I question him, keeping my guard up. I didn't realize how tall he is until I found myself standing next to him, dwarfed by his height. If I had to guess, I'd say he's easily 6'3". He extends a hand, which I ignore, hugging my arms around my torso.

"I'm Alec. I knew Bec while she was attending boarding school." My heart drops at his introduction. That dread is quickly replaced by anger.

"Are you the dickwad who got her pregnant?" I snarl, my nails biting into the palms of my hands as I clinch my fists, ready to lay this motherfucker out. He takes a step back, hands raised in surrender.

"God, no! I was one of the people looking out for her. We were friends. I know the man who's responsible, though." Alec peers at me. The rest of the group has fallen silent, watching the conversation unfold with varying degrees of interest. I feel my face fall, the anger retreating as fast as it appeared. In it's place is an empty feeling that makes me feel completely hollow.

"Do I have you to thank for this?" I fish the note out of my tiny, nearly useless front pocket. I extend it to him after unfolding it, flattening the creases the best I can. He nods, taking it and tossing it in the fire. The paper doesn't stand a chance against the raging flames. It shrivels, turning black and disintegrating more and more with each passing second. I stare at it until it disappears completely. I shift my gaze back to Alec, who is watching me intently.

"Bec wrote a letter for you. She said if anything were to happen to her, to find you and make sure you get it." He informs me, pulling an envelope from his back pocket. My hands are shaking as I take it from him. Bec's hypnotic calligraphy is clear across the back. She simply addressed it 'Butterfly'. I choke back a sob as I trace the delicate letters with my fingertips.

"Thank you." I whisper, my voice thick with tears.

"You know, she talked about you constantly." I bring my eyes back up to meet Alec's. His face is kind and understanding. I wipe the tears away roughly, not wanting to let all these people see me cry. I slide my finger under the sealed flap, ripping it open carefully. I unfold the notebook paper and clutch it between my shaking fingers, reading Bec's last words to me.

Carter,

I love you. I will always love you. Don't you dare forget it.
Look, things are bad here. If you're reading this, then they have gotten worse and I am no longer able to gift you with my presence.
You better not cry for me, you gorgeous bitch.

I smile at her words, despite the tears still straying down my cheeks. I can hear her voice in my head as I read, reciting the letter as my eyes dance over the lines.

I know that if I do die, my parents will throw some bullshit funeral and make up some sob story that will keep them looking like loving parents. Carter, listen to me-it's all complete fucking crap.

I know, Bec. I know.

I clench my fists slightly, the fragile paper crumpling under my pressure. She was spot on with her prediction. I know her parents lied. I knew Bec better than they did-better than anyone. I turn my eyes back to her writing.

Want to know the dirty secret? Do you really want the truth?
Who am I kidding? This is you we're talking about. Of course, you do.
Well, my love, it isn't a happy story.
I'm not sure if anyone bothered to tell you, but I'm expecting.
That's right! I'm pregnant. But it wasn't a choice I made for myself.

My heart sinks. She doesn't have to say the word for me to know exactly how she got knocked up. My mind jumps back to Doug and the unwanted feeling of him inside of me. Bec was raped. Nausea stirs in my stomach.

One of the fucking assholes that teaches here came into my room one night.
Butterfly, I thought I was going to die. By the end of it, I wanted to die.
He held me down and told me if I made a sound, he'd kill me. I fucking laid there and let him fuck me. I didn't try to fight back. Why didn't I fight back?!
I found out I was pregnant a week ago. There's no way in hell I'm keeping that bastard's spawn. I have to get it out of me, but I can't leave the premises. That doesn't matter, though. I will get it out of me no matter what I have to do.
That's why I'm writing this.
If anything goes wrong, if I don't make it, I just want you to know the truth.

I choke back a sob, my heart aching for Bec. I have a fury building inside me, a raging blood lust that is all consuming.

The truth is that you have always been stronger than me. You have always fought through the pain and come out stronger.
I'm not like that. I hope I survive and we can be together again one day.
If that isn't meant to be, I have one request.
Trust Alec. He's someone that I think should have a place in your life. He can help you. Let him.
I miss you with every part of my being. I love you more than words can say.
Live a little, Butterfly.
I promise everything will be just fine.

Forever yours,
Bec

My chest seizes with grief. I fold the note carefully and slip it in my pocket. I crumple the envelope in my hand and cast it into the fire. I meet Alec's pale eyes, which reflect the dancing flames.

"Now you have the truth." He says somberly.

"It doesn't do any good." I reply. "That man will get to go back to his family, and no one will ever know." I stare out at the dim reflections on the surface of the river.

"What if I told you that Bec left proof of what he did?" Alec reaches forward and gently brushes a strand of my pitch black hair out of my face. His hand lingers on my skin. I find myself smiling.

"Then, I'd say let's release it and cause a little trouble. It's the least we can do." I tell him. He matches my grin with one of his own.

"I was hoping you'd say that." He studies my face. "You know, you're exactly as Bec described you." He chuckles. I cock an eyebrow at him.

"And how exactly did she describe me?" I'm curious.

"She said you were stubborn, feisty, and tough as nails. All of which have checked out." He laughs. My smile grows. Bec always knew me better than I knew myself. "She also said that when the time came, you were going to change the world." His tone is more serious now.

"Oh." My voice is quiet. The weight of her prediction falls on my shoulders. The others have started gathering together on the other side of the fire while Alec and I talked. We join them. Alec is the one to speak first.

"We are all here because we all knew and loved Bec. We all know the truth isn't what her family made it out to be." He looks around the messy circle, his eyes conveying the intensity of his words. "Bec deserved better than the bullshit she got. That's why we're going to give her a proper send off!" His raised tone echoes off the water. He's met with cheers and raised drinks. "I think one person here is the most suited to lead us in saying goodbye." His gaze lands on me. "Carter? Will you do the honors?" My anxiety spikes and I almost refuse, but Bec's voice rings in my ears.

Live a little.

I nod and take the cup that a faceless hand extends to me. I step forward. I don't hesitate, knowing what I want to say. What I need to say.

"We all knew Bec, in one way or another." I pass my eyes over the group of people, the fire casting an orange glow over us. Shadows dance back and forth over our faces as the flames crackle and pop. "She was never scared to say what was on her mind. She was always herself, no matter the consequence." I'm met with nods and a few people raise their drinks. "Bec was forced away because she loved someone of the same sex. Because she loved me." I pause. "She was attacked and her parents are lying to everyone to make themselves look better in all this. We know the truth, though. We cannot let that truth die. We will not let it die!" I raise my cup.

"Hear, hear!" Alec chimes in, his cup joining mine. Others voice their agreement, as well.

"We cannot get her back now, but we can keep her memory alive. We can live as she lived-authentic, carefree, and wild. We can stir up trouble and expose the truth. We can and we will-for Bec!" I inhale, the scent of trees and smoke tickling my nose. "We may go our separate ways, but we will always be connected. Those who are no longer with us are watching us from the stars, waiting for the time that we will join them again. Until that time comes, let's raise hell and make them proud!" I cheer, tilting my head back and gazing up at the summer sky, the stars shining brightly down on our small group. I smile.

"YOU HEAR THAT BEC?! WE'RE GONNA MAKE YOU SO FUCKING PROUD!" Alec yells. I release a triumphant war cry, my voice mixing with his as we cheer and scream. The others in the group, emboldened by our sheer volume, join in and scream at the sky. Our drinks are in the air, our heads are turned to the heavens, and in that moment, nothing can stop us.

"FOR BEC!" I scream.

"For Bec!"

"Bec!"

Others echo my sentiment, all of us intoxicated by the warmth of the fire and the hypnotized by the glitching reflections on the water. The tiny pinpoints of light above us twinkle and shine, the only witnesses to our united goodbye to Bec. I close my eyes and enjoy the slight breeze brushing my skin.

I'm going to get back the pieces of myself the last year has stolen.

And then, I'm going to change the world.