My peace and solitude were temporary.

As soon as I stepped foot in the house just after two in the morning, I was greeted by my mother sitting asleep against Rodger on the couch. It wasn't long after that she was stirred awake by her husband shifting beneath her. I then spent the next hour and a half being scolded on the dangers of wandering the streets alone at night and ditching. She'd promised to stay at my side until first period bell rang to ensure I was in class. I had thought it was all just big talk and a threat if I didn't show up that she'd actually do it.

As usual, the joke was on me. Because she stood outside AP Chem with a caramel frap and no intention of leaving me anytime soon. I could hear the quiet jokes being made from halfway down the hall, but she was either oblivious to them or pretending to be, as she kept her eyes on me and my constant shifting on my feet.

"What's going on with you, Mar?" she asked, reaching out to brush my hair off my forehead and tucked it behind my ear. "You used to tell me everything. It seems like. . . like you're this entirely different person now."

My heart sunk as my eyes roamed her face. She was hurt, the glassiness in her eyes and lines of concern on her forehead were a great indicator I had gone and done what I do best. Destroyed yet another thing in my life.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" she went on.

No, Mom, I can't.

"I might understand more than you think, sweetheart. I was a teenager once too, remember."

You won't understand this. You shouldn't have to.

"I love you." she pressed her glossed up lips against my forehead before turning and walking out of the school. She'd obviously seen the time, because just as she stepped out the door the first bell rang and Mr. Banner stepped out, then aside so I was under his intense, disapproving gaze. Hurrying in before I could get stampeded in the swarm that was sure to come any second, I sat in the chair in the far back corner, dropping my hands to my lap so I could dig my index finger nails into my lap. Every pair of eyes lingered for a second as my classmates entered the room, a few of them I recognized, but didn't feel as if I knew them anymore. I'd spent two years accompanying them to everything; lunch, dances, parties. But they looked at me as if I were disgusting, that they'd catch a disease just by being within five feet of me, and made sure to sit on the clear other side of the room.

There wasn't a lot being talked about, or maybe there was, but I couldn't focus. The short, angry middle aged man at the front of the class room kept looking to me. As if he were afraid, like my peers, that I'd lose it at any given second. My eyes found the small window looking out into the hall to find Gage standing outside, waving me out. Looking around me to see if anyone else had caught sight of him peeking into the room, I rose to my feet, slipping the strap of my backpack over my shoulder.

"Can I help you, Ms. Cox?" Mr. Banner questioned, peering up form the planner he was writing in.

"She definitely needs it." one of my brother's jock friends commented, sending a laugh through the entire room at the joke.

Mr. Banner looked toward him, then back to me. "Why aren't you sitting?"

"I need to go to the bathroom." I whispered, grasping my left arm in my right hand and pressing my thumb nail deep into it. "Can I get a pass?"

He heaved out an exhausted sigh and scribbled on a white slip of paper before resting it in my hand. For a second, as his hand brushed mine, I saw the sympathetic look I was faced with every time I looked into any adults eyes. He'd no doubt seen the video too, or at least heard of it, and the domino effect of tragedy it'd caused. I almost made it out of the room without hearing the last comment made by my brother's friend, but as soon as I opened the door he made sure to say it loud enough for me to hear it.

"She's probably got someone to go blow." The jock snided. Mr. Banner yelled at him once more while I let the door slam behind me and moved out of view of so the idiot couldn't get the satisfaction of seeing his words affect me.

"Don't listen to him." Gage was leaning into the row of lockers a few feet away, but he'd heard what the jock had said, that was evident in the way he was staring at me. "Guys like that only have girls like you in their dreams."

It was a sweet sentiment, but I just bowed my head rather than thank him. He pushed off the lockers and led me to the doors, and I took the chance to see allow the tears to escape as I stared at the image of the back of his grey sweatshirt blurring in front of me. He didn't turn back to look at me until we were halfway to his spot, and when he saw the tears silently flowing, he dug his heels into the dirt and grimaced.

"All of them are losers, alright? Your brother and his friends? They're all a bunch of half-witted idiots. They wouldn't know kindness if it hit them in their face." he smiles a little, "Their one brain cell can't handle trying to process more than one thing at a time."

I felt my lips start to pull upward and bowed my head.

"Half a brain cell?" he continues walking. "yeah, half of one is more accurate, don't you think?"

I followed him down the hill, finding that it was an easier trek this time and I only almost feel twice rather than the twelve times combined that I had yesterday. Once he sat down, he pulled his lighter out and waved it in front of me.

"That's what they like to do, you know. It gets them off." Gage said, then blew out the flame for emphasis. "They want to put us out, down, so that we can't fight back. I don't know who. . . who raped you, but I'm sure it was one of those dickheads."

I recoiled and hugged my arms around myself hearing the words said aloud. I could tell him to stop saying them, but something about the way he said it made it seem real, like all my feelings and nightmares were valid, that they weren't all some sick, warped fantasy that I'd made up. That's what Louis had made me feel; like I was nothing, that absolutely nothing had happened.

"Crazy, isn't it? That I used to be one of them." he takes hit from pipe and blows smoke out in her direction. "I know how they think. View girls as objects, property, not human beings. Doesn't change either, as they get older. My dad's still like that."

I watched his top lip curl back in disgust, then sat crossed legged beside him.

"This entire world sucks." he sighs, then looks to me. "I see so many human beings walking around with no humanity left in them."

I watched him put the pipe to his lips again, then bring the lighter to the other end of it. His eyes, in direct sunlight, were the color of honey. Not quite brown, a few shades lighter, an amber almost. They flickered toward me, aware that I was watching what he was doing intently.

"You want to try?" he extended the lighter and pipe out in the palm of his hand with a grin. "You've smoked before right?"

A few times, but I'd always been around people I trusted without a care in the world outside of my grades.

"Don't worry, it's just weed." he reassured, "You won't be tripping or anything. It'll help with the anxiety."

I touched my hand to the pipe, then closed my fingers tightly around the lighter and followed as he'd demonstrated seconds before. As I blew it back out, I started coughing and he started laughing.

"Oh, man. I don't miss that." he took his stuff back from me, tapping his shoe against mine. "You good?"

"Yeah." I answered once I'd recollected myself, finding a smile breaking through. "How red am I?"

Gage leaned back, setting the pipe on the short brick wall and stuffing the lighter into his pocket.

"On a scale of the color on your sneakers to a tomato, you're definitely favoring the fruit."

A laugh escaped me and I threw my hand over my mouth, surprised.

"Let's go." he shot to his feet and looked down at me.

"Where?" I looked back at the school behind me, feeling a cold, tight knot furl in my stomach at the thought of going back.

He stretched his arms behind his head and winked. "I know it's been a while since you've smoked, so in case you forgot, you're about to get an insatiable hunger and won't want anything but junk food."

I stood, eying him. "We're ditching to go eat?"

"You have a problem with that?"

I looked at the school once more, then leaned down to swipe my bag from the ground, and met his eyes.

"Nope. Not at all."

*

Turns out munchies paired with the fact I'd been refusing to eat since I'd been released almost a week ago, I ate as though my stomach were a bottomless pit. Gage had led me down the street from the school to a little local owned business and nearly bought their chip and candy supply out. Worse was that the owner, a sweet, elderly black couple only chuckled seeing Gage, as if this were a normal occurrence. He then led me to the park across the street and dropped the bags by the blue post holding up the swing set and threw himself down on the one closest to it.

"You do this a lot?" I questioned, lowering myself into the swing beside his. He was in the midst of chewing a handful of skittles but as soon as he'd swallowed, responded.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not at school often." he poured the rest of the bag of skittles in his mouth before finishing. "But my mom doesn't know that. She thinks I'm there all day. Even thinks I do extracurriculars."

I narrowed my eyes. "Doesn't the school call her?"

"Nope. Perks of being the Mayor's son, I guess. Don't want to deal with my dad."

I nodded, closing my hands around the cold metal of the chains and kicking forward.

Not even a minute later, I looked to Gage beside me to find he'd disappeared was replaced by sixteen year old Louis, swinging so high I was afraid he'd slip and hurt himself at any second.

"You're such a buzzkill." he groaned as he touched his feet to the ground to slow the swing down, eyes locking with mine. Once he was completely stopped, he jumped off his own and moved so he was standing over me. I thought for a minute he was going to push me back or some other really dumb brotherly action that I'd run home and tell our parents about.

He did very much the opposite. He touched his fingers under my chin and as soon as I looked up his cold, chapped lips were against mine. I kicked at him in front of me, tears stinging my eyes.

"What the hell are you doing, Lou? Are you drunk?"

My stepbrother didn't respond, but grabbed me roughly by the shoulders and pushed me so my back was pressed into the cold post, and tried to slide his hands under my shirt.

"Stop!" I tried to push his heavy weight off of me, but he had a good fifty pounds and an entire foot on me. "Stop it!"

"Marley?" the voice wasn't my brother's but Gage's.

Looking up, I found myself on the turf beneath the swing set and yelling at a picnic table in front of me. Gage was crouched at my left, one of his hands on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he searched my eyes for something he likely wouldn't find. "You kinda left me there for a while. You fell and didn't even flinch."

I shook my head, shaking his hand off and trying to stand but my legs gave out and I collapsed again.

"You little slut. Coming on to me and shit." I could hear Louis' voice in my ear. "How do you think Mommy will feel hearing you're trying to sleep with your stepbrother?"

I started to hyperventilate and dug my nails into my scalp, starting to shake my head again.

"Hey, Marley." Gage moved into my line of sight, worry lining every inch of his face. "Should I call someone? Are you okay?"

"No, no don't do that." I said in a choked whisper, hoping my pleading expression was enough to keep him from running off for help. "Please, don't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

His thick brows drew in confusion. "Didn't mean to what?"

"Come on to him." I breathed, touching my trembling hands to my thighs, readying myself to dig my nails into them. But I needed more, the dull ache my nails caused wasn't enough pain to stop the voices. I needed a knife, or a blade, something sharper.

"What?" Gage stared at me in confusion, "Come on to who?"

I lifted my head and stared at him. Slowly I watched his confusion dissipate and sympathy take it's place.

"I need something sharp." I breathed, choking on a sob.

It didn't take Gage long to put two and two together and he shook his head. "No, no you do not."

"Please." I pleaded, my entire body shaking. "I need it."

He touched one of his hand's to the side of my neck and the other to my cheek, eyes burning into mine. "You don't need to cut. It might feel like the answer, but it's not. It only makes it so the scars remain long after the trauma."

"I need it." My voice my cracked and I touched the back of my hand to my mouth as I started to cry. "I don't want to be alive. I don't want to be here."

Gage pressed my head into his chest and held me there. I should have pushed away and run; I had flinched under any physical touch since it happened. But right now that gaping hole in my chest tightening by the second was overpowering my logic.

"I know." he said, and out of dozens of people who'd responded the same way, he was the only one I felt genuinely understood just how badly I wished to be dead, released from this pain, the memories. "But you've got to hold on. You can't let them win, Marley. Not again."

But what if it's easier? I wanted to ask him. Letting them win.

Because the only way to silence the voices was to stop living altogether.