Exit Wounds

19 | big girl

N I N E T E E N

LOS ANGELES, CA

          I don't make a decision right away.

          This frustrates Sadie to no end, even if she doesn't voice it directly, but I can tell by her body language she's not happy with my inaction. I can live with it, even if her stiff posture and occasional glare she throws my way can be quite disheartening if I allow myself to be hurt by them, and I realize it's one of those things that only contains as much power as you're willing to give it.

          I care about her, obviously, and it means the world to me that she's this preoccupied with my future and current well-being, not to mention all the work she's been putting into getting me some sense of justice and closure, but I can't dwell on all of this too much. If I want to stay minimally sane, if I want to continue moving forward with my life and my career, I need to be able to compartmentalize this trauma and not let it consume me. I don't want this to feel like a fresh wound forever, to continue contaminating every interaction I have with the world.

          I want to be happy. I want to trust people. I want to be in love someday. I can't do any of those things and be satisfied with it as long as I keep allowing Adam and the memory of him and everything he's done to me to latch on to the most vulnerable parts of me. Rebecca is gone, and the parts of her that still linger need to move on, too.

          "I hope you know timing is essential," Sadie reminds me, as I pull out the keys to our AirBnb. We won't be staying here for much longer and, as much as I hated being back in Los Angeles, I can't deny I've missed being by the ocean. There's something strangely relaxing about being able to walk out onto a balcony and staring out at the midnight sea, watching the waves crash into the shore. In New York, there's only skyscrapers. "Unfortunately, the longer we wait . . ."

          "I think it's a bit too late to be worrying about that," I point out. "It's been well over six years since it happened. Even if the kit results are still stored, it would be insanely difficult to get a conviction. They'd be using the time that has passed since then as an argument, and you know that." She somberly nods. "Even if I had only waited a month, it would be used against me. They'd want to know why I waited so long to report it. Six, seven years later? That's pretty much a death sentence, and Adam is just some guy. Your local piece of shit that preys on barely legal girls because they're too desperate for affection and attention to know any better. Imagine if he was one of the Harveys of the world."

          "He could be, if we let him move on with his life. He's not as protected as he thinks, and even HW fell. The higher you stand, the higher you fall from."

          I sigh. "Sades."

          "Don't call me that."

          I kick the door open, relishing on the fact that my New York apartment's front door is far too heavy to allow me to do this. "It's fine. I'm fine. We don't need to give him power that he doesn't have."

          "I get that, but you were the one saying you are giving him that power. By letting him get to you, by slapping him, by keying his car, by letting him live rent free in your mind"—yes, Sadie, that's called being traumatized, thank you—"you're letting him take the power that should be yours, that he should've never taken in the first place. Look at me," she begs, pulling me back by a wrist. "Avoiding this won't make it go away. This is the one chance that you have to try and get justice. I know you're utterly terrified, but you're not alone in this. Not anymore. Even if I don't mean that much to you when it comes to this situation, you'd have legal support now. You'd have Michelle and your father backing you up."