I prop myself up on my elbows, my eyes narrowing before it clicks.
Flicking the switch off at the door, I drag the chair from my desk onto the bed. My legs buckle when the chair wobbles under pressure. With my hands on either side, as if surfing, I keep my balance and reach for the protector encasing the light. I twist it until it pops off, then remove the light. I step down, go to my bedside table, and place the globe into the lamp that died years ago, but I never thought to replace the bulb, as I have the light attached to the fan. After I put it in, I turn my lamp on, and the room fills with an orange glow.
I then place the phone in the centre of the protector, step on the chair, and place the protector back on the fan. “There,” I breathe while dragging the chair back to my desk. “I will take it to school to charge, and when I get home, I will keep it there where Dad will never find it.”
My phone vibrates on the bedside table, and I reach for it when I stiffen at the name. Andy. Except it isn’t a message. The phone continuously vibrates, and I feel pressure to answer now rather than prepare for a conversation I’ll delay for the rest of my life.
My thumb hovers over the green button. Closing my eyes, I press down on the button and hear the static from the receiving end. “Noya?” Andy questions, surprised that I picked up the phone. And if I’m frank, if I’d left it for one more ring, the call would have ended, and I wouldn’t have called back.
“Hey, Andy,” I murmur. I sit down on my bed and brace myself for the conversation. There might be a point where I won’t be able to stand any longer.
“What have you been up to?” he asks casually… too casually.
“I was at Conner’s,” I reply, hesitant about his reaction. “You?”
Silence.
I bite my lip and peel off the dry layer of skin on my bottom lip while I wait.
“Okay.” Andy breathes out deeply. “Here goes nothing…” I close my eyes and prepare myself mentally. “What happened in the car… I’m sorry I made you pass out.”
I sag my shoulders. All the faith I have been clinging to fades because Conner was right. He’s not going to own up to what he’s done—not unless I force him to.
“Andy, do you know why I passed out?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it happen to a couple of girls.” My eyes widen. “When a kiss is too heated, a girl can pass out from it.”
Pardon?
“Uh… n-no,” I reply. “Andy, you…” I bite my lip and feel the sting behind my eyes, across my chest, and wrapping around my throat. His hand gripped my breast while he forced himself onto me out of this sick thing called desperation. “You kissed me without my permission.”
“That’s bullshit,” he spits, causing me to flinch. I move the phone away from me when he becomes defensive. “I would never fucking do that. You know me, Noya. We’ve been friends since childhood. I’ve had your back for years, protecting you from people like your dad. I was listening to you when you were hurt, and I’ve been nothing but kind! So, don’t you dare push this fucked up narrative on me because you don’t want Conner to know how much of a fucking—that you kissed me.”
“Why?” My lip trembles, and tears spill down my cheeks. “Why are you lying, Andy? Why can’t you admit what you did was wrong?”
“Because I did nothing wrong!”
I close my eyes. There is a stinging pain in my right ear, and it grows louder and louder. Dad used to do that to Mum and me a lot. When I was younger, I’d ask Dad why he hurt Mum. He grew defensive, claiming he never harmed her… and never hurt me. For a time, I thought it was affection. He loved us so much that he couldn’t contain it. I was so naive.
A four-year-old, naive little girl who witnessed abuse for the first time.
And now… now I see it within Andy. It hurts to see him go down that path. The sick, twisted manipulation to make me doubt what I saw…
I clutch at my breast and bow my head in pain.
At what I felt.
“You did!” I wail. “You touched me inappropriately and forced your tongue down my throat! I even told you to stop and pushed you back, but because my dad beat me earlier, the pain was unbearable, and I couldn’t keep you back any longer!”
“You’re lying!” Andy croaks, his voice breaking. I suck in a breath and open my eyes. I hear the soft, muffled sobs and lower my gaze, as I can picture him sitting on the corner of his bed, crouched over and crying. “You’re lying. I’d never do that to you, Noya.”
I sigh softly and wipe the tears that stream down my cheeks.
I feel nothing anymore. There’s no sympathy or remorse. There’s no healing this because Andy doesn’t like what he’s done to me so much that he forces a different narrative in his mind to make himfeelbetter. But all it’s doing is hurting me more.
I feel more withdrawn.
Distant.