Where The Light Doesn't Reach

25.

After spending hours in the ER, I'm left sitting in front of the building on a cold metal bench. Luckily my clothes dried not too long ago, but the lack of a sweater is unfortunate for this time of year.

I bummed a cigarette from a sad looking woman who was sitting here before me, and it sits in my mouth almost completely burnt away.

I've been debating about calling Gray.

I know I need to, because there's no way I'm returning to my brother's waiting arms, but I already know he'll have questions.

And this time, I'm going to have to answer them.

No, I want to answer them.

I take another drag of my cigarette and let it out slowly, once more trying to gain the courage to call the taller man. It's already pretty late at night, but I'm positive he'll still be awake. I'm not really supposed to look at bright lights, screens, or read, but still I open my phone to type in the tall man's number, the digits ingrained into my memory despite only looking at it once or twice.

It's not like I have a lot of numbers to memorize.

After another couple seconds of hesitating, I call him.

It only rings once before he answers.

"Carter?"

He sounds surprised, but not unhappy, and the comforting deepness to his voice sparks something in me that I've never felt before. A lump forms in my throat unwarranted, and before I can even say anything then I start to cry.

No, not cry—
Break down.

Gray quickly tries to ask what's wrong and if I'm okay, but I can't respond because of how messed up I am.

I was raped and I have a concussion, and I'm fucking overwhelmed.

"Where are you?" He asks, alarmed. "I'm going to pick you up."

It takes me a moment to answer, and by the time I'm able to pull myself together to tell him then he absolutely loses his mind.

"The fucking hospital! I leave you alone for two days and you end up there? Jesus, Carter—" He cusses some more but I can hear him scrambling in panic. "I'll be right there. Did you want me to stay on the phone until I arrive?"

I tell him yes, because even if it's just my pathetic crying rather than actual talking, it's comforting to know he's here with me.

We don't say much, but I stop my ugly crying just before he pulls up in his sister's car, finally ending the call.

"I'm here."

I have to push down the urge to fall apart again, rising slowly from the bench while dropping my cigarette butt to the ground to stomp it out. I do so before walking over and climbing into the passenger seat, buckling in with caution. I can't help but let out a tired sigh of relief as I sink into the familiar leather.

This is where I'm supposed to be.

Gray studies me with an intense precision, searching for any signs of injury. He stiffens, his jaw clenching at the poor state of my body. I can't blame him; my hair and clothes are a mess, and I can feel large bruises forming in various places. We sit in silence for a couple beats, but questions are inevitable. I knew what calling Gray meant, and this time I'm ready to answer.

"Was it your parents?" He asks quietly. Out of habit, I consider lying. I mentally scold myself for that, ashamed at the thought.

Gray deserves the truth.