Inside the hospital, bright fluorescent lights sting my eyes. A strong scent of disinfectant clings to the air. Combined, the lights and smells are giving me a monster of a headache. Doctors and nurses keep talking to me and asking questions.

So many fucking questions.

I tell them about how I woke up almost naked with a guy on top of me. When I leave out Chrissa and Brody's names, Cruz shoots me a questioning look. I ignore him. I'm still not sure if I want to press charges.

My nurse, Diane, tells me that what I went through was a form of sexual assault. Hearing the words "sexual assault" cements my experience in reality. I die a little inside. I can't believe this is happening to me.

Diane wants to help determine if I've been raped, too.

God.

Did Brody rape me?

I wish I remembered something. Anything. I wish I remembered what I said to him in that bedroom.

Did I tell him to stop? 

My gut tells me that I didn't lead him on. I mean, sure, we've made out a couple of times, but it was only so I could sell him weed without getting caught at school. Even before we got to Sam's party, I turned him down when he asked me out. Brody knows I'm not interested.

Right?

Shame and uncertainty trickle through me.

Maybe I shouldn't have let boundaries get so blurry between Brody and me?

Maybe I shouldn't have accepted that fucking punch, maybe I shouldn't have let down my guard, and all of this nonsense could've been avoided.

My brain starts shutting down. I don't know what else to tell Diane. I want to give Brody the benefit of the doubt, but I can't be sure about what he did—or didn't—do.

Diane then asks if I want to complete a sexual assault evidence collection kit. She says that I can choose to complete as much of it as I'm comfortable with. Afterwards, my kit can be used to file a police report, to press charges against my assailants, but I don't have to act unless I want to.

Cruz gives me an encouraging nod. I decide to complete a kit. He's sent to the lobby as I stay in the exam room with Diane.

As I answer question after question and spread my legs for swabbing and swiping and poking and prodding, I don't engage in the moment. I distance myself from the sensations. Diane is careful, professional, but her movements still feel intrusive as fuck. I pretend like I'm letting someone else go through the motions.

This isn't me.

This can't be my life.

This mentality is the only thing keeping me afloat.

By the end of my exam, Diane doesn't uncover any injuries or evidence to indicate that I had been raped orally, vaginally, or anally. I'm not bruised or scratched up or feeling sore in any of those three areas.

This is the good news, I suppose.

But my drug test comes back positive for Rohypnol, otherwise known as roofie, the date rape drug.

This is the fucked up news.

Everything is documented in my kit.

I don't know what to do with this onslaught of information. I'm simply numb at this point. Dehumanized. Desensitized.

I shut down completely.

To his credit, Cruz has stayed by my side during this whole ordeal. He doesn't say much at all, but his presence makes me feel less alone.

Before we head out, Diane offers to let me shower in the hospital. I take her up on it. As I wash up, I want the ugliness of the night to wash away, too.

Cruz and I don't get back home until 4 am. By the grace of God, Ron and my aunt seem none the wiser as we sneak up the stairs. Before I go to my room, Cruz whispers to me, "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

His kindness shocks me.

I nod stiffly. "Okay."

I don't dare to ask him for anything else, though. He has already done too much for me tonight.

"Good night," I mumble, not knowing what else to say.

"Night."

On this rather anticlimactic note, we part ways. He goes to his room. I go to mine. About ten steps separate his room from mine. Before, I hated being so close to him. 

Now?

I'm thankful that he's ten steps away.

I close the door to my bedroom. Quietly. Lock it. Once I'm alone, I realize that I probably should've thanked Cruz. He really came to my rescue tonight. Hell, I probably should've done a lot of things differently tonight.

Why am I such a fuck up?

The tears that I've been holding back over the last few hours finally begin to flow.

A dam breaks.

I throw myself onto my twin mattress and cry and cry and cry until my pillow is drenched and my head aches like a motherfucker. I want to cry myself to sleep, but sleep never comes. In the darkness and solitude of my room, my brain revs into overdrive. Even though I'm dead tired, I can't stop thinking about Chrissa and Brody. I'm so hurt and angry and sad and confused about what they did to me.

Intentionally.

How can anyone treat another person this way?

This question is beyond my scope of understanding.

Desperately, I repeat my mantra.

This isn't me.

This can't be my life.

Yet, I can't seem to contain the emotions raging through me. My body begins to tremble and shake from the intensity of it all. Flashes of sensory details keep popping up. I try to keep the images at bay, I try to fight off the memories, but I can still feel the weight of Brody's body pressing down on me. I can still hear the sharp trill of Chrissa's laughter. By the time the morning sun trickles through my window, I'm still awake.

Still reliving the insanity.

Then, my phone begins to ring. It's a video call from Persie.

Fuck.

I quickly snap out of my psychosis, wipe my face, blow my nose, and hope that my eyes aren't too red and puffy. I don't want my sister to know anything about what happened to me last night. I'm her big sister, after all. I'm going to be her legal guardian soon. I need to have my shit together.

The sing-song voice of a little blue fish named Dory echoes through my mind: Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

I pick up the phone and forcibly strain my mouth into a bright smile. The effort alone exhausts me. But I manage to chirp in a cheery voice, "Morning, Persie-girl."

"Hey, Athena, I wasn't sure if you were awake yet..."

Seeing my sister's familiar face makes me feel a little better. Her pretty brown curls are braided into two twisted pigtails, and her big brown eyes remind me of Bambi. Persie has been through hell, just like me, but you'd never know it by her wholesome appearance and heart of gold.

"Don't worry, I was awake," I assure her, "what's up?"

Persie gives me a funny look through the screen. "Is everything okay?"

My smile freezes on my face. "Why do you ask?"

"You look like you've been... crying?"

Damn it.

Persie has always been a little too observant for her age. I try to brush it off, "Dude, I made the mistake of staying up all night to watch Forrest Gump. I was bawling my eyes out."

Persie sighs, "I don't understand why you like that movie so much, it's so sad!"

"Hey, now," I protest, "Forrest Gump is a classic!"

Persie sticks out her tongue at me. "I'll take anime over classics any day of the week!"

I tease, "You're such a nerd."

"Takes one to know one!"

I eye her affectionately through the screen. "You got me there. So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Oh, yeah," she mumbles, "I wanted to let you know Rick and Willow just decided that they're taking us to the beach for a few days. My internet might be spotty, so don't freak out if I go MIA, okay?"

Rick and Willow are Persie's foster parents.

"Got it," I say, "thanks for letting me know. Have fun, Persie."

"Thanks, Athena."

We hang up shortly after.

The second Persie cuts out of the screen, my smile falls away. My mood plummets again. Reality sets in. It's a Saturday today. Thank God I don't have to go to school and face Chrissa and Brody yet, but everything still feels pretty fucked up. A part of me wants to stay in bed all day and wallow in misery. Another part of me wants to get the hell out of this house. I'm suffocating. I need fresh air. I want to clear my head.

Maybe I should go for a walk?

I quickly get dressed. I throw on an oversized hoodie and some sweatpants. As I step outside my room, I'm surprised to find the spawn loitering in the hallway. Cruz glances up the moment he spots me.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I reply with a confused frown.

Whatever happened to his don't talk to me, don't look at me rule?

"I was, uh... waiting... for you."

My eyebrows shoot up. "You were?"

"Yeah," he mutters without a trace of his usual rudeness. "I wanted to make sure that you're... okay?"

My heart flutters a little.

It's like he really cares or something?

I give him a small smile. "I'm... okay."

His green gaze locks onto my face. I know my eyes are probably still red and puffy from crying.

"Liar," he chides softly.

"Okay, fine, maybe I'm not okay yet," I admit, "but I'm... trying... to be."

He eyes my outfit. "You going somewhere?"

"Yeah, I wanna take a walk."

"I thought you were grounded?"

"I'm just taking a lap around the neighborhood."

Cruz looks at me expectantly. "Can I come?"

Whoa.

The spawn wants to tag along?

Weird.

I'm pretty certain the only reason he's being nice right now is because he feels sorry for me. Not that I'm complaining, of course, I like this softer side of Cruz. 

Probably a lot more than I should.

I pause shyly before nodding, "Sure."