Sheriff ✔

Chapter 25

Under the cover of first light, we made our way to William's old house to meet Lilith. Hand-in-hand, William and I slowly made our way through the house as we waited for the woman to arrive. We paused in front of the threshold to the master bedroom. I studied the circled pink stain on the floor.

"Can I have a moment alone please, my love?"

William kissed my cheek, his gaze sad. "I'll be downstairs."

I took a step into the room, almost expecting to feel a shock when I crossed the doorway. Another step. And then another.

I heard the whirring of the vacuum, and the smell of onions flooded my nose.

Please, I'm a virgin. Don't do this.

Please, I'm a virgin. Don't do this.

Please, I'm a virgin. Don't do this.

"Evalyn?"

I untucked my head from my chest. When and how had I ended up on the floor in a fetal position was a mystery to me.

"Evalyn?"

I smacked away the hand that gently rested on my shoulder.

"Leave me alone!"

My voice was unrecognizably guttural and rasping. A growling whine ripped from my throat as I once again smacked the hand that tried to touch me.

"It's not your fault."

This was a different voice – Lilith's.

I tucked my head back in, willing myself to be small as a speck of dirt.

"Evalyn, what he did is so, so wrong, and it is not your fault."

Please, I'm a virgin. Don't do this.

I tasted salt on my tongue. My eyes were tearing of their own volition.

"It's not your fault."

"I should have locked the door," I moaned, vocalizing the sentiment that had been burgeoning within me the second after my encounter with that man.

"I should have called William. I should have fought harder."

"The issue is his actions, Evalyn, not yours. If he was not wicked and terrible, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"I can't," I responded simply. I really couldn't. Not with anything.

"That day haunts my steps, Lilith. He's around every corner. He's behind every unlocked door."

I felt the older woman kneel down next to me.

"You have a right to feel hurt and scared and paranoid. I was the same way and still struggle with it at times. But you are beautiful, you are deserving of love. You are not damaged goods – you are not worth any less because of the actions of some truly worthless bastard."

My eyes were working in overdrive now.

"Would you like me to rub your back, Evalyn?"

I nodded, and she gently began running her hands over my back. I felt my bunched muscles release their tight posture.

Though my eyes remained closed, I heard another person – it must be William – kneel down beside me.

"Can I hold you, doll?" he asked, hoarse and low.

Again I nodded. He drew me onto his lap and against his chest. I buried my face in his sweet-smelling shirt.

After a while, "I want you to remind yourself constantly that you are deserving and you are beautiful. No more roughhousing with yourself, my love."

Clutching to his shirt for dear life, I looked up at him.

"W-what do you mean?"

"No more not eating, Evalyn. No more pinching. No more roughhousing."

I didn't realize that he had noticed. I didn't realize that anyone had noticed me. Small, broken, twisted me pining away under the gravity of what happened one Monday afternoon. After that day I just assumed that trauma would be who I was. That would be how I was defined.

But maybe not.