Chapter Three
(Remember that this book will contain themes of sexual assault. Please take care and stay safe when reading.)
CHAPTER THREE:
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'They tell me, "Don't go there We know you love a nightmare. There's more than a crush here. Why aim to be crushed here?"'- dodie
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When did you change? When did you morph into this nightmarish monster who disregards everyone who cares about you? Can the real you come back?
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Dr Emma Smith, her counsellor, had been seeing Carrie on and off for about ten or so years, after building up a solid relationship with her. Listening to Carrie describe would remain ingrained in Dr Smith's memories forever. While, it is indeed true that she has heard stories of some real horrors from patients, horrors that may be considered to be more severe than Carrie's experience, the way that 15-year-old Carrie told the story highlighted her pain. Blame was at the forefront of the story as she relayed it. Not the fault of Jack, but Carrie. Everything she said and how she did it indicated that she was blaming herself for not doing enough; for failing in some way.
"We had been close since we met. We sat together at the front of the bus, talking and playing games and watching movies. Every holiday we went to each other's houses or went on trips together. Once, we went to Knowsley Safari Park together, that's one of my favourite memories with him. Then, when we moved up to high school, new people in our year joined us on the bus, so we started talking to them more and each other less, worried that we would be made fun of if it was too obvious that we were so close. This time apart separated us, but it didn't mean we weren't still best friends. Most nights, we would talk, sometimes about random things, sometimes about more meaningful and deep things. We confided in one another, supported each other. Then came the time that Jack hit puberty, and it all changed. He started making more sexual references, and his interest in me became clear. We had always liked each other, it was obvious, but we were too afraid of rejection or ruining our friendship, so we said nothing. He asked me out a few times, and I said no because I was too scared. Having an attachment disorder meant that I ran away from any possible situation in which I was at risk of getting hurt. Of course, this didn't work, but I was scared of being vulnerable and making that new form of connection. I often wish I'd just been brave enough to say yes to him, who knows what would have happened? But still, we talked and remained close. I'm still not sure what happened to him... he's so different now. It was probably my fault. All of the times he asked for advice and support I should've done more. Maybe he wouldn't have changed so much if I had been a better friend."
Carrie had begun to give Dr Smith some context before telling her about the assault itself to give her an idea of what kind of relationship they had had before it changed. Both the doctor and her patient had a grim expression on their face as frowns pulled at the corners of their lips, and their eyebrows furrowed, mirroring each other.
"Then, it was last Christmas, just before my school broke up for the holidays that it happened. He messaged me from further down the bus asking to talk so, of course, I said yes. So, he came and sat down opposite me; it was a bus with tables and seats either side, like a train. He sat down and smiled that smile at me, a smile I think was only for me. I was surrounded by bags of books and work I needed for revision over the holidays, so I was rather cornered in, not that I thought much of it at that time. He then proceeded to reach his arms across the table to reach me, again I thought nothing of it. He was sat forward in his seat, and his arms were stretched out in front of him so he could reach me from the other side of the table. And that's exactly what he did. He touched my thighs in an uncomfortable place and trapped my legs with his own, stopping me from moving."
Carrie paused for breath momentarily as her eyes glossed over in an attempt to close herself off, ashamed of being so vulnerable and weak. Salty tears slowly began to build in the corners of her eyes.
"It was my fault," she continued. "I didn't say no. I just froze like a complete idiot. My mind couldn't comprehend what was happening as his fingers lightly stroked my thighs, and his legs kept tightly wrapped around mine. One of his hands moved from my thigh to my hand that was resting on the table in front of me. He picked it up and held it in his, and my heart rate increased, even more, it was pounding in my chest, ready to burst free from fear and adrenaline. His whole face darkened while he did all this. He was no longer my best friend; he was someone I had never met before, nor hoped to meet again. He remained silent until we were almost at his stop when, finally, he said: "we'll be in my room." I was supposed to go to his house for New Year's Eve with my family, and I think he was planning that we would get up to something there. In the end, I stayed at home while my parents went, but I know he wanted something to happen there. Suddenly, we arrived at his stop, so he kissed my hand, untangled himself from me and got off the bus. As soon as he was off the bus, I burst into tears with no idea what had just happened or why. I was confused and shaken, and I was angry at myself for that. I still am. It wasn't rape. It could've been so much worse; all he did was feel me up. But it felt so much worse because it was a betrayal. I know I'm overreacting and other people go through so much worse, so I hate myself. After that, I didn't talk to him again. I couldn't look at him without my heart rate accelerating so much that I felt as if my whole chest was vibrating. I still can't, a few months later. I'm still terrified of the boy who used to be my best friend."
By the end of her description of events, a few tears had escaped and trickled down Carrie's face, just slightly ruining her mascara and leaving a trail in her foundation. Dr Smith looked at the teenager in sympathy as she then began to explain some of the psychology behind her reaction to what had happened while also reassuring her that it was not her fault.
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That appointment was one that Carrie could remember even ten years on; it was not the first time she had told someone what transpired, she had told dear friends and her parents. Whenever she recounted what had happened, she never had any difficulty saying the words 'sexual assault'; they were simply words that illustrated what had happened to her. Explaining it to professionals, however, felt completely different. It was as if saying those words out loud had suddenly become some taboo as her throat clenched and a lump formed when trying to speak those words.
Weak.
She told herself that she was weak. They're just words, so how could they hurt so much to say? It was irrational that she knew, making it all the more difficult. Her focus drifted to punishing herself for how she was feeling and how she had reacted to him. What if she had just said 'yes' to him on any of the multiple occasions that he had asked her out? Would he have been different? Better? Admittedly he would never have sexually assaulted her if she had started going out with him instead of being too apprehensive. That was one of her biggest regrets, perhaps one of her biggest mistakes too.
Saying no.
Losing their friendship had been the toughest part of all. He left a hole in her heart, a hole that she denied the presence of for many years. She moved from having her best friend by her side, having someone to fall back on when she needed anything, supporting him when he needed it in return, to having no relationship with him at all. Of course, she still had Sammi, yet this didn't ease the pain. How was it possible to transform from auctioning off blue nose bears at the front of the bus to never looking at each other, let alone talking to one another? They had carried on to the sixth form, meaning that they saw more of each other wandering around the buildings, having previously been at the same high school but separated by gender and different sites. Fury and grief simultaneously darted into her heart whenever she saw him around. Fury at herself and him for allowing their friendship to fall apart, and grief because it was a loss that nobody could fill. Seeing him around talking happily to other girls, acting as if Carrie had never existed stung the most.
Bitterness swelled in her chest whenever she saw him.
She often wondered if he ever thought about her. Did he miss her as she missed him? Did he feel that same pain whenever she was laughing or joking with other guys? Carrie never blamed him for moving on or being happy without her. In fact, she was pleased that he was, not that it made it any less hard for her to see, besides, they had never been together in that way. What a selfish thing to feel, she continuously told herself. Why would he carry on thinking about her after not speaking to each other for years? Neglecting each other's presence when they were in the same room often made her question if she had imagined things every time she thought he smiled at her in that special way, that she was distorting their connection and friendship in her mind, making it something it was not.
Then, looking at old photos and cards, just remembering the time they had spent together reminded her that no, she did not imagine things. Simultaneously, they had been both close siblings, and close in the opposite way; they were companions; they had feelings for each other, not that they ever admitted it. Carrie had flipped from telling people she liked him to denying that they were ever friends and back again, and he did the same. Friends repeatedly told her that, if she did have a crush on him, that it was a waste of time, he wasn't worth it.
If only she had listened.
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Once more, Carrie trudged upstairs to her guest room and stepped inside, already sensing a surge of conflicting emotions sweep over her. Kneeling at the side of the bed, she pulled out the box in which she kept her most cherished items, and flipped the lid open, eyeing the card she had looked at the day before. Trembling hands gently rummaged around in the box for a minute before they hit an old photo from Alton Towers, a local theme park that they would frequent regularly. A picture of Carrie and Jack, both 11, his sister and Carrie's parents sitting on the 'River Rapids' ride was displayed as the photo cover was flicked open. Jack was grinning ear to ear and holding up a 'peace sign' with his hands. Next to him was Carrie, also grinning widely as she stuck her tongue out at the camera. The photo only confirmed that they had once been close friends, spending as much time together as possible. Memories of the day dashed into her head, his first-ever ride on 'Oblivion', a ride that suspends you while looking over the drop, before releasing you into an abyss. Carrie had come off, laughing her head off at Jack, who had turned pale and begun feeling sick.
Let go.
Let him go.
Writing the letter had, according to Carrie's counsellor, been the first step towards accepting what had happened and letting it go. Next was starting to get rid of some of the physical reminders of their friendship; not all of them, just a few to begin with. He was still a part of who she was, so deleting him would be a mistake. So, Carrie picked up a couple of other items that reminded her of Jack, careful to leave the card, closed the box and shoved it back under the bed and then made the plan to burn those few items.
She would begin to burn away the ties that bound them.
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Word count: 2217
Approx reading time: 11 minutes
(Please be aware that I am English, and therefore, some spelling will be different from American English. These are not typos; it is just the British spelling.)
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