The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (people reading books txt) 📗

makes a note to keep her relations with Demetri on the quiet side. Getting back on track, I tell her how things with Julian were easy and nice, until—

“We saw Beaux at Mimi’s.”

Kat’s mouth drops in surprise. I think she’s going to jump out of her seat and cause a scene. Instead, she sits uncharacteristically quiet, so I continue.

“He came in with his . . . girlfriend. And I . . . I couldn’t stand the sight of him,” I tell her, unwilling to go into detail on how truly disturbing the encounter was. “Julian put two and two together and he kissed me. Apparently, PDA makes people uncomfortable, because Beaux never even noticed us.” I move my thumbs back and forth in my lap. My heartbeat quickens as I remember back.

“But even more shocking than seeing Beaux was how I felt after our kiss ended, how I’ve felt ever since,” I reveal.

“And how have you felt?” Kat asks, breaking her silence.

“Like . . . like I want more,” I admit.

A huge smile spreads across Kat’s face and her cheeks glow pink. I imagine she’s screaming I told you so inside her mind, but she doesn’t say it, not yet at least.

“Anyway, I . . . I’ve tried to keep my distance ever since it happened, because I still have things to figure out,” I ramble on.

“Like what?” Kat interrupts. Kat stands, and as if a preacher at Sunday service, says, “Emma Louise Marshall, do not run away from this. Look, I know I’ve joked about you needing a rebound and even about you and Julian, but . . . it’s been almost a year, Emma. And you have this gorgeous, kind, thoughtful guy right in front of you and if you . . .” She pauses to think. “If you let him get away, we are no longer friends,” she finally says.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Kat says. “I mean I knew something was brewing when he insisted on staying to look after you the night of Brocatos, but hearing all of this and gauging the price of those roses—he likes you, like really likes you,” Kat says.

Kat refills our coffee cups and sits down across from me once more.

“And you just admitted you like him to. So, what’s the problem?” she asks.

I exhale and drink my coffee. This is where it gets tricky. This is where it gets uncomfortable.

“Beaux is in your past, Emma,” Kat tells me. “The only one holding you back now is you.”

I know she’s right. I do, but—

“I know we don’t talk about it,” Kat begins. “And let me start by saying, I respected your decision back then and I will continue to respect any future decisions you make, aside from keeping Julian at arm’s length, obviously. But . . .” She pauses, dropping her eyes to the floor. The hairs on my arms rise in response. “I know Beaux did more than hit you,” she finally reveals. My lips part. My blood turns to ice. “And when you didn’t press charges, you allowed him to hold a power over you that is unbreakable until you accept the truth,” Kat says.

I want to tell her “Stop! Don’t say it.” but my throat tightens and I’m unable to speak, unable to breathe.

“He raped you,” she says.

That word—that single word I’ve refused to allow in my vocabulary. My heart rate quickens, and my forehead grows hot. I feel like I’m sweating, like I’m panting.

“Emma,” Kat says, taking my hands in hers. “Focus on me, just me.” I do. I look into her familiar blue eyes until my rapidly beating heart forces me to close mine. I clasp her hands tighter and attempt to still my mind. It doesn’t work. I see . . . I see him.

Blood pools in my mouth to the point where I feel I may drown in it. There is a reprieve in his assault as Beaux removes his pants. I gasp and spit the blood on my white duvet. The sight of him over me ignites my body in fear. With fear stronger than my adrenaline, the pain of my wounds overcomes me, as does the pain of him entering my body.

Beaux moves his hands from my shoulders to my throat. He squeezes and with more and more pressure, my mind goes numb and my insides burn as he moves in and out. I flounder and try to push him off, but my efforts are in vain. He is too strong.

I stare at the ceiling until the room starts to fade. “Look at me,” Beaux grunts. He pulls me by my hair and forces me to look at him. As it becomes harder to remain conscious, blurred edges inch closer and closer to his face, yet I still see him, over me, choking me, violating me. Until I see nothing at all.

Despite darkness as my eye’s reward, my ears continue to betray me. Beaux screams and grunts as he uses more force against me. His skin slaps into mine. The pain should be greater than it is, but my body shuts down with each passing second there is no fresh air in my lungs. Kat pounds on the door, crying and cursing. She yells into her cellphone for the police to hurry. I try to move my lips to tell her to run, but I’m unable to. My body is heavy, weak, and numb as it jolts back and forth in response to Beaux’s pressure.

In my last moment of consciousness, I feel Beaux press himself hard against me. He finishes as sirens echo in the background. Hot against my neck, he whispers, “Now, we’re done.”

I buried this for so long. Even as it happened, as he . . . raped me, I didn’t allow myself to call it that or even process what was happening to me, what was really happening to me. And I . . . I didn’t press charges because I knew that meant explaining something I couldn’t even understand, something I couldn’t accept. I . . . I stayed quiet, and I kept this to myself. At least, I thought I did. And I guess I hoped that if I kept quiet,