What He Never Said ✔️

chapter twenty-nine • final encore

A/N: This chapter contains a description of sexual assault that might be triggering for some readers. Your mental health is more important than the number of views I get. I will not be offended if you skip this chapter and move on to the next (you won't miss anything too vital, I promise). Take care of yourselves, loves.

I watch as Raelyn positions the webcam so that it's farther away from herself. She casts a false smile and then lets out an equally false laugh. Her green eyes look lifeless, like she's already dead inside.

Oh, the irony....

"So this is it, y'all. This is my final encore," she says as she moves out of the frame. Seconds later, she reappears with a bottle of Jose Cuervo, my least favorite type of tequila.

"Oh, my god," Gemma murmurs beside me. Her normally copper skin is ghostly white. She looks like she's going to hurl.

I should say something, anything, to comfort her, but I'm so focused on the screen in front of me that I can't.

"This was my shit in high school," Raelyn continues, holding up the bottle of amber liquid. "My best friend, Gemma, and I would drink until we blacked out. This one time, we got so violently ill that we were up the whole night puking. We had to convince her parents and my grandma that we had both caught the flu." She twists off the cap and takes a long swig. "Tonight, ladies and gents, I'm hoping I do a little more than just black out."

"No." Gemma quickly pauses the clip. "No, no, no."

"Shh, it's okay." Griffin wraps his arms around my sister, pulling her into his comforting embrace. I'm glad he's here for her, because I'm useless at the moment. "I'm right here, Gemma. It's gonna be okay," he assures her.

I lean forward and click the play button. I know Gemma is struggling, but I need to hear what Raelyn has to say.

"Let's start with story time," Raelyn's melancholy voice fills the room once more. "I used to hate telling stories, but now that I have a small human, I've gotten pretty good at it. Not as good as her, of course. For a six year-old, she sure knows how to entertain."

Yes, she certainly does. I've lived with Evangeline for four months, and that girl is a riot. The only good thing that came from Rae's suicide was that it forced me to get to know Vange better.

"Anyway," Raelyn goes on, "I'll begin by sharing some background information about him. He was someone I didn't know very well, but someone I trusted. Someone I cared for. Someone I didn't think would ever hurt me in such a profound, fuck-me-up-for-the-rest-of-my-life kind of way. He did, though. He hurt me, and I guess that's why we're here."

I already know who the "he" in question is. Gemma, however, looks lost.

"That's why I'm recording this stupid video that I don't know if anyone will ever see. Most people just leave a note, right? I'm not much of a writer." She takes another sip of tequila. More than a third of the bottle is already gone. "Hey, maybe I should give Best Friend Gemma a call. She's the next Hemingway in the making."

"If you think that's even a little bit funny, Raelyn," Gemma hisses beside me, holding onto Griffin for dear life. He doesn't seem to mind, though, and once again, I catch myself feeling grateful for his presence. 

"Actually, um, I wouldn't mind calling Gemma right now. It would be nice to hear a familiar voice," Raelyn mumbles, staring down at the bottle of tequila. "I can't... I can't do that, though. If I call Gemma, she'll try to talk me out of it. In all honesty, she's probably the only person that could."