You Can Go Home Again

Chapter 11

I wake up in the middle of the night, having a panic attack. I feel him on me and inside me. Why couldn't I fight back better? How did I let this happen? I grip my head as I bury it between my knees, trying to control my breathing. What if I do get pregnant with his baby? I want to throw up just at the thought of it, and also from not fully sleeping off all the booze. I make my way to the bathroom, trying to stop the shaking as I do. I try throwing up, but I just keep dry heaving. I only feel worse, and the shaking has increased. I shove my fingers down my throat and finally make something happen. I vomit until there's nothing left. I lay on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, my stomach aching near where I'm still not fully healed. I clutch my stomach, willing myself not to feel anything anymore. I've done it before. I can do it again. I try, and I lay there not wanting to move until it works.

"Ugh!" I exclaim after a while. "Why won't it fucking work?" I start to cry again wishing I could change the past or erase my memories. I'm not going to be getting back to sleep anytime soon, so I decide to take a long shower. Steam fills the room as I step into the shower. I let the water just wash down me. I imagine the water actually washing away any places Ray touched me last night. I take my loofa and scrub everywhere, and then I scrub them all again. After the fourth time of scrubbing everywhere, I finally get out. I wipe the steam of the mirror and notice the bruises that have formed on my neck. I'm going to have to get more creative than just makeup to cover up these guys. I do put on layer after layer of makeup, until they just look faded. I blow-dry and straighten my hair so I can wear it down to hide my neck. I touch them lightly, remembering how tight Ray's grip got. I look at myself one last time in the mirror, taking notice of the bruises on my hips and thighs too. I sigh and move to dress accordingly.

I throw on a pair of leggings and a sleeveless sweatshirt before making my way out to make coffee. As soon as I open the door, I can smell the pot someone is already brewing. Curious and cautious, I make my way into the kitchen, but no one is in here. I grab a mug and some honey, and I pour myself a cup.

"I thought I might see you out here," I turn around and face Derrick. I look at him, and he looks as tired as I feel. "Look, Harper," he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, as he clearly tries to find the words.

"Don't worry about it Derrick," I say before he starts again. "I should have told you everything back then. I should have told you everything as soon as I got home. You and I were always too passionate to work anyway," I shrug as I stir my coffee.

"You don't mean that," he accuses. "Once again, you're saying things to either push me away or keep me at a safe distance. Which one of us do you actually think you're protecting?" He steps closer to me, and instantly the smell of his bodywash overpowers me.

"Derrick, I," the words catch in my throat, and I have no idea what he wants me to say.

"Harper, when I found out about you and Ray, I was hurt. I was angry. I was devasted. I thought our biggest problems were something else entirely up until recently. Never would I have imagined that it was another man, let alone Ray."

"Ray and I, it's not what you think it was." I bite my lip, afraid of what I might say. A lot might have been said last night, but the nature of my and Ray's actual relationship is still a secret.

"Well then, what was it? Please, Harper, just tell me. I've been wracking my brain, trying to understand how I couldn't have seen, how I didn't know. I don't want to feel all this rage. I want to understand why you chose to go back to him again and again, but also stay with me." I stare into the black void that is my coffee, last night playing over and over in my mind.

"Please," I beg Derrick, "please don't make me talk about it."

"Why? Did he hurt you?" Derrick asks, a new rage beginning to build. "Harper, tell me right now," he demands as he grabs me. I pull back from his grip and straighten my stance a little more.