What He Never Said ✔️

chapter thirty-two • another visit

"We are more frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality."
- Seneca

"Hey, Zayna. Sorry for being MIA all night. I didn't mean to scare you. Tonight's been crazy. I'll give you the details tomorrow. Oh, I'm sleeping at my sister's, by the way. First thing in the morning, we're going to talk to my parents. I miss you, baby. Text me when you wake up, alright? I love you."

I hang up the phone and slip it into the pocket of my jeans. It's almost one in the morning, so I'm not surprised that I got Zayna's voicemail. She texted me several times while I was with Gemma and Griffin, each message dripping with unwritten worry. Around midnight, she told me she was going to bed, but that she left the back door of the diner unlocked for me.

Gemma asked me to stay at her place. She claimed it was for convenience, since we are paying my parents a visit tomorrow morning, but I think a part of her just wanted the company. Tonight was hard for her. Learning that your best friend killed herself is sad, but having the knowledge that your older brother, someone you once loved and admired, drove her to do it? Well, that's just devastating. That's the kind of information that ruins people, that ruins families.

I'm just hoping the Beauforts will still be intact after my parents hear what we have to say.

"I texted Ella to let her know I won't be at work tomorrow," Gemma tells me, fetching a wool blanket and an extra pillow from the linen closet. "Evangeline will be at school, so we don't have to worry about her. Assuming Mom and Dad don't have a meltdown, everything should go smoothly."

"Smoothly?" My eyebrows shoot up. "Gemma, we're about to break their fucking hearts. Nothing about this will be 'smooth.'"

"I know, I know. I'm just trying to be optimistic."

"Since when? You're never optimistic."

"Hey, I have my moments," she tosses back.

I roll my eyes and lay the blanket and pillow on the couch. I'm used to sleeping on a sofa, but I'm not used to sleeping without Zayna—not that I'm expecting to get much sleep, anyway. Between this evening's chaos and my anxiety about tomorrow, I doubt I'll close my eyes for more than an hour.

"By the way, Bowie," Gemma adds, letting her wavy hair free from the confines of her messy bun, "when I left earlier, I... I went to see Carla."

"As in Carla Porter?" I exclaim. "Why the hell would you go see Raelyn's deadbeat mom?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but she was the one who Raelyn sent the first two 'veritas' videos to, and she was the only person on this planet who knew that Raelyn was raped." Gemma's gaze lowers to the floor beneath us. "Other than you, I mean."

"Yeah, other than me," I mumble. "So, uh, what did Carla have to say tonight?"

"That Rae knew how messed up our family would be after finding out about Benson," Gemma whispers, "and she... she didn't want to cause us that kind of pain."

Perhaps this information is supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn't. All I feel is more remorse, more regret, for not speaking out all those years ago.

"Um, I'm going to hit the hay," my sister announces. "Try to get some rest, okay?"

"No promises," I reply. "Goodnight, Gemma."

"Goodnight, Bowie." She gives me a quick hug before retreating to her bedroom.

Once I'm alone, I lie down on the couch and allow my eyelids to close. In my dreams, all I see is Rae—her crimson hair, her closed-lip smile, her virescent eyes. She looks so happy. I almost forget how much pain she's hiding behind her joyful facade.

I wish she had gone to the police. I wish she had let Benson's ass fry. For once in her life, I wish she had put herself first and not been so concerned about protecting us.

Because, fuck, who was protecting her?

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

After a quick trip to Starbucks for our morning dose of caffeine, Gemma and I drive to my parent's house. She cuts the engine, but we don't get out of the car right away. The air around us is thick with trepidation. Without needing to ask, I know her anxiety matches mine.

"What if they don't believe us?" Gemma's inquiry comes out in a frightened whisper. "What if they think we're lying?"

"It's a risk we have to take," I reply, feigning confidence. Fake it 'til you make it, right? "I think they'll believe us. I hope they believe us. I mean, why would we lie?"

"Benson is the family favorite. He can do no wrong," she says matter-of-factly,

"Actually, he can. And he did." I let out a deep sigh. "I just want all of this to be over. I want him out of my life. Out of our lives. Every time I see his face, all I can think about is what he did to Raelyn."

"I still don't know how you kept this to yourself for so long. It would have driven me mad," she voices with a shake of her head.

"It almost did," I admit, reflecting on how fucked up I've been ever since Raelyn killed herself. "I was falling apart, Gem. I was entering a really, really dark place. If I had gone on any longer... well, I don't know what would've happened. I don't wanna think about it."

"A while back, you told me that you understood why Raelyn killed herself," she reminds me. "Was it because you knew what really happened with Benson, or because you could relate to the feeling of not wanting to be alive?"

I move my shoulders up and down in an indecisive shrug. I know what she wants to hear, but I can't honestly tell her that there has never been a day when I didn't want to be alive. 

"Both, I guess," I finally reply, unbuckling my seat belt. "Let's go in. Better to rip off the band-aid, you know?"

I take out my house key and unlock the front door. The aroma of ham, bacon, and cheddar cheese fills the air. They must be making breakfast.

I hear the familiar sound of Mom and Dad's infectious laughter. I spot them in the kitchen, each holding a cup of steaming liquid in their hands. Mom flips one of her signature omelettes in the pan before sprinkling some garlic salt on it, while Dad grabs plates and silverware from the cabinet.

For a moment, I'm happy—to see my parents, to smell my mom's cooking, to be home. For a moment, I forget the unsavory reason why I'm here.

I suddenly freeze when I see a mane of red hair in the dining room. Alyx's thin frame comes into view. Her heavily-glossed lips are spread into a relaxed smile as she talks animatedly to Benson.

Benson. My brother is here.