(Lesbian) Heartbreak Hotel and Other Shitty Love Songs (LGBT) (GirlxGirl)

Track Six: Don't Speak --No Doubt

What can I really say now? Suddenly my life is the story of a girl who got raped, and the troubled life she led after. Suddenly every little piece of me can be derived from the fact that I was raped. Suddenly, that's my identity.

Sure, maybe society has come far enough to not blame me for what happened (or maybe not) but I'm always going to be Shelby Matlin, rape survivor, before Shelby Matlin, teenage girl. Maybe for some people, that label is empowering. For me, it is demeaning. And we were just getting comfortable calling me a lesbian. Funny how that works, isn't it? You can never be one thing long enough to own it before you're plastered across the face with something else.

I guess, really, I'm all of the above. Shelby Matlin. Rape survivor. Teenage girl. Lesbian. Hey, maybe I should I apply to Buzzfeed. That would make a great bio.

"You okay?" A voice echoes. I look up at Wren with bleary eyes. I guess I had sat down in the hallway across from my room after letting Bethany out, and I just hadn't found the energy to get back up yet.

"Just dandy," I mutter. He offers out his hand and hoists me up, and I wobble slightly.

"Woah, Shel, you been drinking?" He laughs, helping to steady me. I roll my eyes.

"No, just thinking. I guess that's probably worse though," I laugh. He gives me a devious smile.

"With a brain like yours? Yeah, I'd say so," 

Welp, it's official. You heard it here first, from my own brothers unshaven upper lip. God, he really should wax that thing. It looks worse than my aunties-- and that's saying something. "Shel, I was wondering something, actually," He mutters, leaning his back up against the wall. Jesus. I follow suit, and let my eyes focus on the patterns in the the drywall. A bird with scoliosis. Poseidon. A loaf of bread.

"Is there something going on between you and that girl?" There it is. He did it. I close my eyes, the light secreting in burning an amber hole through my eyelids. I wanted badly to walk straight into it.

"Kind of," I mutter, bracing myself. He nods.

"Don't be mad at him, but Carson told me when I was tucking him in tonight. He didn't know what he was sayi--"

"--I know." I cut him off. What kind of raging bitch machine would I be if I got upset at my barely comprehensive little brother for repeating whatever bullshit I'd said to him? I should've known that he would tell Wren. Or maybe I did know. Maybe it was easier this way. Is that so bad?

"I love you," He finally says after a long, nauseating pause. He grabs my hand and I tear my gaze away from the wall to meet his, shocked at the urgency behind his voice. I continue to stare at him, dumbfounded. "I just want you to always know that. I don't want you to have to ever question that with me, the way I know you do with mom and dad, I just wanted you to know," He says, squeezing my hand tighter.

"I do know," I whisper, my voice sounding unfamiliar to me. Scared, maybe, but calm. He shuffles from foot to foot. I didn't know, though. How could I? How can anybody really be sure that the love they're receiving is unconditional. There are always conditions.

"I know I should have waited for you to come to me, but Shel,"

"No, no, no. This is good. Thank you," I whisper, just wanting him to stop trying to explain himself. He found the need to justify his concern, while I'd spent weeks trying to justify my fear of telling him.

I turn towards Wren and throw my arms around him, letting the familiar smell of his woodsy cologne wrap me up in warmth and set me at ease. I needed this. I needed something good.