THE GIRL AFTER

C H A P T E R 3

"Mirrors: they show you what you lack, not what you have."

Marty Rubin

            I felt like I couldn't breathe. The air was thin and small as I sat in the car after practice, Bentley and Cameron in front of me. They were talking about a girl at the school, but I could barely pay attention as I tried to continue my breathing.

    I had always been a healthy child, hardly ever getting sick and I had never had breathing problems, but seeing him sitting in the passenger seat talking to my brother about some poor girl, it made everything difficult.

    "Athy, how was your day?" Bentley spoke, but I ignored him. I couldn't help but feel anger towards him. He was the one who brought Cameron into our lives and he was the one who had brought Cameron there that night. He was snoring in the other room as I was being assaulted. But I couldn't also help but be wary. He was my brother, but I didn't know what he was capable of. If his best friend was able to hurt me as he did, maybe so could Bentley?

    "Athens? Are you okay?" I felt like my heart stop as the words slipped past his lips. I used to love hearing his voice, and when we were younger he would even read me to sleep. His voice used to be soothing and calming, but as he spoke that afternoon in the car, all I could hear was "I'll kill you if you even try."

    "Athena!" I heard my name being yelled, but my mind just slipped farther into the memories, farther into the pain that was forced upon me that night.

    "Don't move."

    "Don't scream."

    "You'll enjoy it."

    Rough hands pushing down on my arms and his knees holding my legs down as he pushed himself in, tears streaming down my face. The t-shirt in my mouth making me choke on my sobs as he started breathing heavily.

    "Athena Quinn!" My brother's loud voice pulled me from my thoughts. He was staring at me with anger in his eyes. "Cameron asked you a question and you just ignored him! Mom and dad raised you better than that! Answer his question." I turned to look at Cameron but noticed he was already staring at me with a smug look on his face as if he knew what I was thinking about.

    "I'm fine," I muttered, looking back down at my hands. We stopped at a stoplight and still had 5 minutes until we were home. I wasn't sure I was going to survive the rest of the car ride, much lest the rest of the year having to go home with him every day.

    As Bentley started moving the car when the light turned green, I noticed him repeatedly looking through the rearview mirror at me. I could see the worry in his eyes, but there was still anger there. Angry at me instead of the person he was supposed to be angry at.

    Growing up Bentley and I were close. We would always do everything together, but then Cameron's family moved in down the street and he became the person Bentley would do everything with. I was pushed to the side, only being talked to when they needed something or mom would force them to play with me. I was thrown away back then, and it was happening again, but this time it hurt more because I couldn't confide in Bentley. I couldn't tell him what happened, he would never believe me.

    The moment we pulled into the driveway, I was out of the car and in the house. I couldn't handle being in that small of a space with either of them again. It caused too much pain, too many memories, and my heart couldn't take any more. I already felt like breaking down every time I saw blue eyes or brown hair, thinking it would be Cameron.

Trying to complete my homework was even different. Everything was, but I was hoping schoolwork would be the one thing that would stay the same, but I couldn't focus on it. Every time I tried to take deep breaths, my mind wandered and I couldn't stop myself from looking at the bed. The spot where it happened. The blood was still on the sheets because I couldn't bring myself from cleaning them, from touching them after what happened. They were just a terrible memory of the worst night of my life.

Practice a few hours before was also different. I had to wear long sleeves and leggings in the 90-degree heat just to hide the bruises from my classmates. I could barely stand to get hit as each time the bruises hurt even more. I was slower and my coach noticed, making me sit the bench and yelling at me. Every time I tried to do something normal, it backfired, and I was done with it. With everything.

    As I stared in the mirror that afternoon after doing homework, I didn't look like myself. It was me standing there, but it wasn't me. The girl staring back at me was just a shell of the former me. The girl before Cameron. The girl before he raped me. She was just the girl before, and I was the girl after.

   

Just the girl after, and I was going to make sure she was stronger than the girl before. The girl would no longer be weak.