Telegraph Ave

Chapter 41: Impulse

Stacy POV...

I reside at the kitchen table, fiddling with a paper clip and staring into the marble patterns of the wood. Our block of the neighborhood was quiet for the first time in a long one, and I was plunging into my own sorrows. My sisters haven't been in the best mood this week, and neither have I. A cloud of bitterness radiates my spirit, and guilt weakens me physically. A playback image of my coach's face burns in the back of my head, and I persist on cowering away from telling everyone else.

I glance to my wrist to play with my bracelet, but to my pitfall I remembered that it doesn't belong to me anymore.

Wow... I think to myself, reflecting on the subtle memories Xaiver and I shared. I twitch, longing to push them out of my mental. Reminders are a bitch, which is another reason I want to leave for L.A. If I continue to stay in this neighborhood, it's inevitable that we're going to have to spot each other again. I can't help, but to become sad whenever I even think about him.

Healing hasn't been my best journey.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

I jump to the three knocks that pounded my door. My home was quiet, for it was only my Dad and me. He looks to the door from his computer, and we exchange glances at each other. I slowly rose from my chair and made my way to the door—walking across the cold kitchen pavement.

I touch the silver knob, thinking twice before I twist it. I have a strong feeling on who's behind the door. It felt as if we haven't spoken for an eternity, and that's just how slow the days have been passing me by. However, I opened it anyway and my instinct was valid. He sees me and breathes heavily—I did the same.

My heart pounds and my hands quiver. I sheath them by folding my arms, and avoid to look him in the eyes—nor speak. Eventually, he catches on that I wasn't going to be the first to exchange words, so he mustered the courage to speak.

"Can we talk about it?" He muttered.

"There's nothing to be said."

"Stacy," His tone remains patient. "You never gave me a chance to explain what happened."

"You didn't have too," I reply, looking him in the eyes and backing away. "Cause I saw it all when I walked in. Now if you don't mind, I don't need any reminders of Saturday." I go in motion to close the door.

"Stacy, I was raped!!!"

Those were the last words I heard before slamming the door in his face, and my heart stops. My eyes widened. Looking back to my dad he rose from his computer, exchanging one last stare before walking away. I was shocked and bewildered. Opening the door, I stepped out the house closing it behind me.

"What do you mean you were raped, X?" I questioned him in more irritation.

"Can we go to your backyard?" He mumbles, ambiance is heavy. "I promise to give you nothing but the truth."

I take a deep breathe, allowing myself to listen to his words once again. I nod my head.

* * *

We sat in my bench swing for the past 30 minutes, and I was soaking information like a sponge. He explained everything. From how he was tricked, to the heart-shattering detail of how he had to break the news to his mom. I felt terrible, and my heart tears from regret—it was overwhelming. As I listened to his story, I held back tears. My face felt like a water balloon waiting to explode.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" I asked him, looking toward the sky as tears hung by thread in my ducts.

"I tried... but you weren't in the headspace to listen." He mutters "I lashed out at practice today. Knocked one guy damn near unconscious, picked a fight with another, and exchanged some harsh words to Jordan. I haven't felt the same these past two nights, and it's taking a toll on my sanity. I guess I invested to much of myself within you, because you became part of my peace."