Lydia

Jake and I attended Zach's funeral in Gainsville a week later. We stayed with my mom and dad this time (we alternated between parents when we visited), and left Violet with them while we were at the funeral.

Zach's family placed an obituary in the paper with details about the funeral, which resulted in people from the community, including our school, attending the event.

Mr. Stevenson, who was our social studies teacher, and Pamela Buchanan, the substitute teacher (Jake's affair), were there. The old gang showed up. So did Elsie, who sat near me.

I saw Katie, who sat on the other side of the church. Elsie told me they drifted apart over the years.

Reggie sat in the back, hiding behind a big pair of dark glasses. I always thought Regina Brown was somewhat strange. While the memory of Zach was alive in my heart, my friendship with Reggie was a dead cactus plant that I couldn't be bothered resuscitating.

I looked down at the funeral pamphlet. During lunch in tenth grade, Zach sarcastically announced that his full name was Zachary Bruce Lee, named after the legendary actor and martial artist Bruce Lee.

We thought he was joking, but there it was: Zachary Bruce Lee. I smiled at the thought of him. We had many good memories together.

The speeches proved to be a teary affair.

Jake broke down during his speech. He struggled to get through it, so I walked up to him and held his arm. His shoulders shook and his tears spilled. His voice broke as he tried to finish it.

After Zach's family and close friends carried the coffin to the cemetery next to the church, we gathered to watch them lower the case into the ground. We all watched the coffin descend into the hole.

The priest gave a short prayer, and Zach's family said goodbye. He was only twenty-seven.

It was a sad dream I wanted to wake up from, but no. It was real. All too real.

---

After the funeral, we attended a gathering at a sports clubhouse, organized by Zach's family.

Zach's brother, Chris, handed me an envelope that was marked with my name.

"Zach would have liked me to give this to you," Chris said.

I started to open the envelope when he gently placed his hand on mine to signal stop and wait.

"You don't need to open it now. You can wait until you're in your own, personal space," he said.

I took the hint. There must have been something in there that I needed to see in my private time.

"Thank you, Chris."

---

Later that evening, people from our high school, including a few teachers, met up at a local bar.

Jake had sent out a message through his social network to people in our school who knew Zach, inviting them to meet up for a few drinks in memory of him. Zach, being a social guy, would have wanted that.

Jake told people in his message to share the invite with others who weren't in his network.

I forwarded the invite to Elsie, in case she missed it. She sent a friend request to me after our coffee, so we were connected to each other.

Pam and Mr. Stevenson, who insisted to call him by his first name, Trevor, were among the Gainsville High staff who showed up.

Pam slinked over to Jake and touched his arm.

"How are you, Somersby?" she purred softly. Her eyes examined his broad shoulders, tapered waist and strong arms.

"I'm lost for words. Never thought this would happen," Jake replied.

I moved away from Carrie and Dean, and gravitated towards Jake.

"Hi. Lilith, right?" She sized me up with one sly, narrow eye while drinking her mojito.

"Lydia," I replied.

"Oh yes, Lydia Coleman. You were the annoying kid who wouldn't leave Jake alone in class. I remember you now." Pam laughed.

At that moment, I thought of one word: snake.

"I came close to giving you detention after disrupting my class during sex ed. I sure hope you learned a thing or two from it," she said slyly, pointing her index finger toward me.

I looked at Jake, who noticed I was uncomfortable.

"I recall Jake was equally disruptive," I retorted.

"Oh, really? Somersby was such a good student," Pam claimed, openly rubbing his solid, muscled arm in a seductive manner.

"No, he was in on it too. You see, Jake was teasing me. He likes to tease. But you'd know all about that," I shot back, smiling salaciously at Jake.

I caressed the back of his neck and shoulder.

"Ooh, really? Is that right, Jake?" Pam looked surprised, almost offended.

"Um, Pam, Lydia is my wife," Jake said, before clearing his throat.

Pam and I stared at each other. She looked at me with hate.

"Nice to see you, Pam. Lydia, we should go and talk to Mr Kumar. He's about to leave," Jake said, and guided me toward the exit, where we greeted the school's principal.

Later that evening, Elsie came up to me.

"Nicely played," she said, as she handed over a drink.

"What do you mean?" I stared at her in confusion.

"Pam Buchanan." She raised her glass.

I followed suit and raised mine too. Elsie clinked her glass gently against mine and we both took a sip.

"That bitch gave me detention and I remember it all too well. She was clearly wrong about her facts and I tried to reason with her. I fought for the facts and ended up in detention."

"Did it have anything to do with you and Jake being together?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink.

"Absolutely."

We both drank some more and watched the crowd around us.

Carrie came up to us and greeted Elsie.

"Where's that friend of yours?" Elsie asked.

"Which friend?"

"Reggie."

"We're not friends anymore," Carrie answered.

"She's deadwood to me," I added.

"Good. She was a two-faced lying-" Elsie started to say.

"Okay ladies, let's channel in our positive thoughts," I interrupted. "Cute guy alert over there! Twelve o'clock!"

"Where?" Carrie and Elsie chimed together.

"Right there!" I pointed at some random guy. Anything to change the subject into a more positive flow.

"Are you blind?" Carrie yelled out at me.

"She's got her drinking goggles on," Elsie chuckled.

We all laughed and clinked our glasses.

I looked around and saw Jake talking with some old school buddies, while Greg was on the other side of the bar, talking with Rosita and her crew. Lindy was jabbering away, drunk as a skunk, with Katie, who was equally drunk and loud.

This was how Zach would have wanted his wake to be. All his friends gathered together, having a good time.

"You guys get the feeling that Zach is in heaven watching us?" I asked.

Carrie and Elsie looked at each other, then at me.

"Here's to Zach!" Elsie raised her glass and we toasted together to our friend.

Saying goodbye was never easy. It hurt.

---

There was one person I noticed earlier at the funeral, and at the bar.

Somebody who I did my best to avoid.

Devon Declan.

I couldn't stand the sight of him. He was physically attractive, but to me, he was the devil.

As I came out of the ladies' room later that night, I heard him call my name.

I kept walking, pretending I didn't hear anything. I didn't know if I could ever be ready to face this.

He touched my shoulder and called my name again, so I turned around and stared at him.

"Devon."

"Lydia. You look...good," Devon said with a drunken, slurry smile. He'd had a little too much to drink and he smelled like sweat and beer. His angelic hair was still a golden crown of waves. His blue eyes were deceptively charming and cool.

Sexual predators came in all shapes and sizes.

He could have been a model. He was still fit and handsome. He dressed in expensive clothes-Italian shoes, a well-fitted shirt, nice pants from a high-end store, and, of course, a branded watch. Tick to all boxes.

This was one form of a sexual predator. He forced me into having sex with him years ago on prom night while I was intoxicated, powerless, voiceless, and not fully conscious.

"I have nothing to say to you, Devon," I spat at him and turned away again.

I started to walk fast, and went outside for fresh air. The restrooms were near the exit, and I felt like I was going to vomit, after seeing Devon.

I needed fresh air. I needed to catch my breath; I was starting to hyperventilate.

There were people milling around outside, so I wasn't alone. The street was well lighted and there was a taxi queue nearby.

"Lydia, wait! I want to talk to you," Devon's voice rang.

I turned around and looked at him.

"Talk, then."

"You're a feisty one." He smirked. "Still looking hot."

I glared at him.

He moved up closer to me. I felt his body heat.

"You were always good at sucking cock. So fucking hot with that mouth of yours," he said.

"Shut up, Devon! Shut the fuck up!" I backed away, as he tried to play with my hair.

"No! I'm not done playing with you," the asshole said.

I saw a tall figure right behind Devon.

Jake. His face was full of anger. Maybe even rage. He pushed Devon away from me and punched him right in the face.

"Don't fucking touch my wife," he yelled at Devon, who stumbled back.

People were crowding around us now.

"It's okay, it's fine. The show is over," bloody-nosed Devon confidently yelled at the gathering crowd, as he walked away from us and toward the cab rank.

"Don't you ever fucking touch her, speak to her, or look at her ever again!" Jake shouted.

"I wouldn't want to touch her anyway. She's a cheap whore who'll spread her legs for your Gs," Devon yelled back as he wiped his bloody nose.

He said that because he knew Jake was from a wealthy family. As I said earlier, Devon's values were all screwed up.

All of a sudden, I felt a ball of fire traveling from the depths of my belly and surging to my throat. It was about to release and explode.

I was doused in a fuel of anger, and felt my voice rising like a Phoenix from the ground, becoming airborne again. For too long, I had lost my voice. Now was the time to be heard.

"DEVON! HEY! Remember prom night? Do you sleep well at night, knowing what you did? Of course you do, because that's what psychopaths do. Hear me?"

The rage poured out of my eyes, throat and every pore of my lithe body.

"Devon Declan, you raped a young woman in this town on prom night nine years ago. You left me with an unseen scar I live with for the rest of my life. You are guilty and you know it!" I shouted, looking at a sea of faces.

I wanted the world to know the truth.

Devon kept walking away, ignoring my voice.

"Scared to face the truth, Declan? I hope that karma bites you hard, because karma is a bitch," I screamed with rage.

Devon got into a cab, and it drove off.

Coward. Devon was nothing but a coward.

Jake then walked away from the crowd, which started to disassemble, and I followed him.

We walked over and sat on the stairs behind the building that housed the bar. It was in a quiet and safe area. We could hear the thumping music, but it was nowhere near as loud as it was inside the bar.

I grabbed Jake's shoulder and hugged him tight, as he clung on to me with a need for comfort. I looked down and saw his right hand was red.

"How is your hand? Do you need to see a doctor?" I asked as I held it gently.

"I'll be all right," he replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It just needs some ice."

Jake then broke down and sobbed in my arms.

"I can't lose you. You mean so much to me," he cried.

What Devon did to me on prom night-the night of the rape-had affected Jake too. I was not the only one whose soul was garnished with the emotional scars of abuse. Jake shared those scars with me, and it was something he was willing to do for the rest of his life. Why? Because he loved me.

"You and Violet mean the world to me, Jake. You are my life." I cradled him as he rested his head on my chest.

---

The next day, Jake and I were nursing painful hangovers. We both woke up around one p.m. on Sunday. The previous day and night had been an emotional roller coaster.

I received a call from Carrie, asking how we were. I told her we were okay, just emotionally exhausted. She told me what she had heard.

Apparently, word got around that Jake broke Devon's nose, and Devon refused to talk about it. He said he wouldn't press charges against Jake. We both believed he was scared that if he pressed charges, I would come forward and press charges for rape.

There were people who heard me tell the truth about what Devon did. His newly tarnished reputation was something his family money could not buy in a town like Gainsville.

I was the town crier, sans bell and a tricorne hat.

To be honest, I was relieved that Devon chose not to press charges, because I would have retaliated by pressing rape charges. I did not want to go through it all again. Not that way. That was my own personal choice. There was another way that I would voice out and speak up again later on in life.

My mom raised her eyes when she saw the ice pack on Jake's hand. She was about to head out to work when she told us that Dad had taken Violet over to see Angie and Robbie earlier that day, and that we were more than welcome to join them.

The news about our encounter with the devil had not reached our parents yet. When they eventually learned the truth, they gave their emotional support to me and Jake.

After having a late breakfast (or lunch) and showering, I told Jake about the envelope that Chris handed to me.

"Go ahead and open it." Jake encouraged me as I held the envelope.

I opened it and found an old photo that Jake took of us when we were in eleventh grade. It was taken the week we first met. Our first selfie together.

"Oh goodness, Jake! I looked sooo young," I squealed.

On the back of the printed photo, Jake's handwritten words were: #MissyandJake #bff #bae

"The corny shit we got up to." Jake laughed gently. "I must have forgotten that photo at Zach's place years ago."

"Look, we had chemistry! I still can't believe how young I looked back then," I replied.

Jake also personally received some items from Chris that Zach would have wanted Jake to keep.

An old school yearbook. Inside, there were a couple of photos of Jake and Zach smiling. In between the photos, there was a note from Pam to Zach.

It turned out the Jake wasn't the only ex-student Pam had an affair with.

"Zach you sly dog." Jake smiled.